This piece is a response to the events that visited our world on September 11th 2001.

I have chosen to illustrate the moment that the news came and changed our collective lives forever. The act of opening this piece, of turning the latch and allowing light to shine upon the interior can be likened to that moment when each of us picked up the phone or turned on the TV and heard about this tragedy. Once we had listened to those words and seen those images the mere act of turning the knob or lifting the receiver seemed too small to warrant such a response. I was at once riveted to and repulsed by what I was hearing. Words began to take on second meanings. Breaking News seemed particularly appropriate. I looked at the faces of those that were trying to cling to some kind of hope as they searched for their friends, lovers, sons and daughters; I realized that the word missing was being used presently to describe the victims. Soon it would become a part of each of us that were touched by this tragedy. The victims were missing now and we would from this moment forward be missing them. The tipped cup illustrates how the news was delivered. It was not a note under the door kind of delivery it was more akin to something that was hurled at us or something that was too big to be contained and came spilling out. The cloth is an attempt on my part to humanize the numbers that were flying around. The original numbers have been modified and reduced, as they became more fact than guess. But this piece is about that first day. The cloth is made from approximately 6000 beads and reflects the number of people that we were told were missing before any hard facts were available. The colors of the beads reflect skin tones and the global population represented here.

As the news came it seemed to take up residence in my studio. Like an unwelcome guest I could neither ignore it nor work around it. I ended up giving it my full attention in hopes that it would get what it wanted from me and go.

My studio is in my home and is a busy place with lots of people coming and going. I found that we were all sharing feelings of frustration and powerlessness. New York, The Pentagon, and that field in rural Pennsylvania had been far away places the day before and now they seemed to be fighting for a place to sit in my limited workspace and breathing up all of the good air. When I started working on this piece those who visited my studio became interested in it. It was a "something to do" when there seemed to be an excess of "what can I do's". My friends wanted to help. I didn't have to ask they just wanted to be a part of it. There is so much that is ugly and hopeless about the events of 9/11, this is an example of something beautiful. We all needed to have contact with each other and with those who lived closer to ground zero.

The signatures that are on the bottom of this piece are for the most part not of artists or people who were familiar with this kind of work prior to this effort. They represent people who came together and saw an opportunity to do something positive with the horrible feelings of loss that they were experiencing. This reaction is a perfect illustration of empathy and hope born of tragedy. I offer it and the signatures of my friends as a tangible reminder of that hope.
This piece is dedicated to the memory of those who we are missing and to those who loved them.

Individual signatures:
Marisa Chatt
Ron Cole
Jim Frame
Elizabeth Garfield
Sharon Lubetich
Ruth M. Satterlee
Lynda Sherman

On September 11th 2002 this piece became part of the permanent collection of The American Craft Museum in New York City. This was made possible through a generous donation by Chris Rifkin. Thanks also go to Mobilia Gallery in Cambridge MA. They showed this piece and helped to negotiate its sale. The entire purchase price was donated to Craft Emergency Relief Fund (CERF).