The passage of time changes us

New York, forever

Oct 20, 2023

West to East

The first week of October, I traveled to New York to install a public art project I’ve been working on longer than any project in my career, more than 5 years. The pandemic played no small part in the extended timeline. I’m elated that this project has come to fruition and will live in a Brooklyn public elementary school for the foreseeable future.

Leaving the school on the final day of install, on the evening of Indigenous People’s Day, I heard several different languages being spoken on the street, saw women in burkas, kids riding bikes, and elderly walking with groceries. I felt proud to have been a small part in creating an environment that will belong to the neighborhood, one of the most diverse in Brooklyn. What was once a burned out building is now a school that thoughtfully blends old and new. Preserving the historic facade and turrets, the architects designed an addition that cleverly gives students modern spaces and access to the outdoors in the form of a rooftop netted playground.

Sunset Park Avenues Elementary School, P.S. 516, Brooklyn

My artwork fills the ceiling of the lobby, cascading down a curved wall behind the reception desk, drawing on neighborhood history and mapping to create an abstract landscape. Individual forms are printed, laser cut, and welded to create a layered, three-dimensional relief. The artwork, titled The Blue-Sky Line, was commissioned by the NYC Department of Education, NYC School Construction Authority Public Art for Public Schools program, in collaboration with NYC Department of Cultural Affairs Percent for Art program.

Here’s a sneak peek from install:

Sunset Park Avenues Elementary School, P.S. 516, Brooklyn. Collection of the NYC Department of Education, Public Art for Public Schools

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Lost in Art

In the intensity of working long days and commuting between Brooklyn and New Jersey, I barely checked my phone. The tragic events in Israel over that weekend reached me late. I could not help but think of 9/11 and how it felt in NY in the months after. On the eve of the U.S. invasion of Iraq, a sign on the street I will never forget read: Our grief is not a cry for war. The air was filled with dread. That sentiment is burned into my mind as an encapsulation of what so many felt then and feel now.

I remember thinking that life as I knew it had changed. Whatever freedom I had constructed in my mind was an illusion. I’m aware that the luxury of holding the illusion of safety in the first place is a privilege. But the collective loss of innocence and overwhelming grief was nonetheless a shock.

The weekend tinged my previous days with melancholy. I had spent a day in Chelsea with art, blissfully alone, looking at paintings somewhat rabidly. It had filled a longing to look and think at my own pace. It had made me feel grateful for the time I’m given and who and what I choose to spend it with.

Elliott Hundley at Kasmin. I wanted to live inside this show.

Autumn

I had forgotten that fall in NY is varsity team. What paintings, and so many works on paper and prints. But that weather… autumn, not too cold, not too hot, blue skies, crystal clear, reminds me of how it felt on 9/11/2001, one of those perfect fleeting fall days.

There is dissonance between how the mind processes abstractly and moves forward, while the body remembers through direct experience of the environment: sight, smell, and touch. Sometimes a day that is beautiful in a specific way jolts me with a fleeting flash of panic. I think the part of me who wondered if the world was ending on 9/11 is still a little surprised that I’m actually still here, working as an artist, given permission to build the images I construct in my head.

There are so many memories here, and friends. My time in NY and NJ was heartening. I still feel so connected even though I’ve been away for quite some time. This installation reminded me of what is possible.

I believe strongly in public education and can imagine my own daughter going to this school if I still lived in Brooklyn. It’s incredibly meaningful to make work for this space and a triumph of NY that a program to commission contemporary art in schools exists.

I’m proud of how The Blue-Sky Line came together, the persistence that went into it, the hard work of my collaborators, and especially the positive way we all worked together to install it on a tight schedule. It transforms the space, adds layers of complexity, and has moved my practice forward into new materials and dimensions.

I will share more about the process with final photos in a post to come. You may have noticed that I’m calling this a journal now rather than a newsletter, as the content evolves. More soon.