This was local to me. Friends, clients, adult children of friends, in the Towers. My train station lot full of commuter cars of people who would never return, neighbors finally getting home, filthy, exhausted, two days later.
That morning I, and other artists were meeting to hang a group show. We all kept going, after the first strike, still met, still hung the show, crying. We'd all separately decided that terrorists couldn't be allowed to interfere with art. We wouldn't give them the win.
In that spirit, here's a presentation of Indian trade cloth and cultural exchange, as promised yesterday. I'm posting without commentary, since the slides are labeled and dated. Where pieces are not attributed, they're in the collection of the presenter.
Happy day, everyone, there's always light and art and each other.
