I was three when the north and south towers of the World Trade Center fell on September 11, 2001. The memories I have of that day and what happened after are not my own, only stories and snapshots in my mind put there by what I have heard from others and seen on TV. It was not until my first visit to the 9/11 Memorial in 2014 that I made my own connection with an event that impacted and changed the life of our country.
Located at the site of the former World Trade Center complex, the memorial, named Reflecting Absence, occupies approximately half of the 16-acre site. The most significant part of the area are the two huge waterfalls and reflecting pools. About an acre in size each, they are set within the original footprint of the Twin Towers and are the largest manmade waterfalls in North America.
Architect Michael Arad, in collaboration with the landscape architect Peter Walker, design was selected from more than 5,000 entries from 63 nations. Arad watched the second plane hit the South Tower from his roof on the Lower East Side. Long before there was talk of a competition, he envisioned a memorial that incorporated the element of water. He imagined “two voids tearing open a surface of water and the river failing to fill it up.” The “inexplicable” image, he added, captured “a sense of rupture and continued absence”. So not by accident, water plays a significant role in the memorial. “In what we ended up with, you can see each strand of water as it goes over the edge of the weir, appearing as separate, individual streams as it falls. By the time it reaches the end, the clarity dissipates, and it becomes a woven tapestry of water. I think it speaks to individual and collective loss — bringing together many lives into one,” Arad explained.
Perhaps one of the most symbolic aspects of the memorial is the Survivor Tree. A Callery Pear tree was discovered at Ground Zero in October of 2001. Its limbs had been snapped and burned, its roots damaged. The tree, even though severely damaged, was removed and given over to the NYC Department of Parks and Recreation. Amazingly, after being rehabilitated, the tree was brought back to the memorial in 2010. “New, smooth limbs extended from the gnarled stumps, creating a visible demarcation between the tree’s past and present. Today, the tree stands as a living reminder of resilience, survival and rebirth.”. The reflecting pools are surrounded by over 400 trees that give a sense of peace and provide a softness to an otherwise hard area. The trees reminds us that there is renewal and rebirth.
A more poignant visual at the memorial are the names of every person who died in the 2001 and 1993 attacks inscribed into the bronze that surround the reflecting pools. The sheer number of names, 2,977 in all, one after the other make a powerful statement and is reminder of the enormity of the loss of life from this tragedy. The names are arranged in groups according to where they were at the time of the attacks and are staggered so each has it’s own individual space within their group.
Like other memorials to the fallen, Reflecting Absence, was created to commemorate and be a visual reminder of what happened for those who lived through it and for those who come after. The African Burial Ground also memorializes those who were victims of a tragedy in our country. The 18th century burial ground was uncovered during preliminary site work for a federal building in 1991. Located in Battery Park the 6 acre national monument is dedicated to the forgotten history of enslaved Africans in colonial and federal New York City, who were integral to its development. Like the 9/11 Memorial, a contest was held for the design of the monument and the winning design was chosen from over 60,000 applications and also like 9/11 the symbolism runs deep. An over 15ft granite prism like structure stands, representing the bow of a ship, like the ships that carried thousands of Africans to America. “As a memorial, the architects goal is to show that the granite block that you first see as you pass by Broadway is much more than a solid large piece of rock, but a symbol of the thousands of different stories and lives that have been affected by the Middle Passage”.
The sound of rushing water is heard further enhancing the ship idea. There are seven mounds on the site marking the re-interment area of over 419 African descendants found on the site and the area is separated from the monument with a grove of seven trees. “The mounds serve as markers and the trees as guardians to the entrance of the Libation Chamber.”
The walls of the memorial, like the names on the walls of the pools at the 9/ll memorial, are inscribed with Adinkra symbols representing “different African cultures and peoples, whose lives changed forever once docked in North America”. This monument memorializes what was there before, so much like what the 9/11 memorial does. Ironically the two memorials are related in a more direct connection, the African Burial Ground Project’s library was destroyed on 9/11 as it was in the basement of 6 World Trade Center. Happily, most of the artifacts were recovered in the rubble.
Another monument in lower Manhattan, The Korean War Veterans Memorial also stands to commemorate those who lost their lives. The 15-foot obelisk of black granite has a cutout in shape of soldier, known as the Universal Soldier, on a three tiered base. The bases are engraved with the flags of the 22 participating countries while the surrounding circle of pavement are inscribed with the number of soldiers dead, missing and wounded from each country. Like the names inscribed on the walls of the reflecting pools at 9/11 the flags of the 22 participating countries show war has no eyes. It does not care the color of skin, gender or nationality. While those who were killed when the towers fell were not actual soldiers engaged in combat, they did lose their lives while doing their jobs. “Around this magnificent memorial, the paving slabs are inscribed with the names of the soldiers who fell in battle from all twenty-two nations who took part in the conflict. It is a place for quiet contemplation and a chance to reflect on the courage and bravery of those countrymen who quite literally lay down their lives for peace, justice and fairness.
The 9/11 Memorial is powerful and full of meaning. The deep, dark openings in the ground where the reflecting pools sit do “reflect absence”. The water cascades down into nothingness, a visual reminder of what was lost on that day. Not just lives and buildings, but a way of life, a way of viewing our country.
But not everyone finds the memorial to be fulfilling commemoration. It has been panned as too symbolic and full of contradictions. Contributing writer to The New Yorker magazine, Adam Gopnik wrote, “The site contains more contradictions, unresolved and perhaps unresolvable, than any other eight acres in Manhattan. A celebration of liberty tightly policed; a cemetery that cowers in the shadow of commerce; an insistence that we are here to remember and an ambition to let us tell you what to recall; the boast that we have completely started over and the promise that we will never forget”. He finds the falling, draining, and recycling, of the reflecting pools, which he feels are not pools, and they leave no room for reflection, unsettling.
Michael Kimmelman, architecture critic of The New York Times, wrote, “the site has been given over to overly literal symbolism: fountains the size of the towers’ footprints; America’s tallest tower, with a fortified base; a museum underground with a pavilion that resembles a collapsed building. The place doesn’t do much to celebrate the city’s values of energy, diversity, tolerance openness and debate. His comment is in stark contradiction to Arad’s deliberate design to make the memorial part of the city. “The original master plan called for a memorial 30 feet below street level, but I wanted to challenge that idea,” he explained the AIA. “This should be about creating a profound site for contemplation and memory, but it should also be something that’s part of the city.” Concerned that the recessed spaces would become estranged from their urban context, Arad sought to meld the memorial to the city. “I wanted it to be part of the city, something that would benefit everyday residents on their way to work.” This priority emerged from his own experience as a self-made New Yorker. “I had lived in New York for three years when I was working on the competition entry, and it was public space that made me feel like a New Yorker.”
I agree that “No one critic can make proclamations concerning whether a memorial site succeeds in mitigating the lingering trauma and loss of a violent cataclysm for the public. Spiritual sustenance and healing is exceedingly personal”. But from my own observations and experiences I find some common ground with their points. The two times I visited the memorial I also noticed was the police presence and that most of the people visiting were tourists. I agree with Michael that the memorial doesn't feel like New York, but not for the same reasons, to me it feels like an ethereal place out of busy reality. I say that because as you walk closer to the pools the sound of water becomes almost deafening to the world outside the park.
Kimmelman also refers to the park as, "Formal, gigantic, impersonal, flat, built to awe, something for tourists."(footnote https://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/29/arts/design/finding-space-for-the-living-at-a-memorial.html) Why not let it be those things? The memorial is awe inspiring but we as individuals have given it meaning, each person has their own experience at the memorial. The formal and gigantic elements remind us how small we are and of the loss felt by the nation, but creates community and a feeling of togetherness when individuals gather around the pools.
It also makes sense that tourists would be drawn to one pool, maybe read around the names, and then move on to something besides the other pool. I think it might be cool if the other space had new life and energy. Maybe instead of there being a second drop, there could be an island with a large tree to represent growth. Obviously I'm not an architect but I do know that differing details entices people. I do think that something growing up out of the abyss would go along well with the idea that, "life has a way of renewing a wounded city". Perhaps it doesn’t have to be so literal. Maybe it is those that continually gather around the memorial that represent the renewing of a wounded city.