In some of my gospel learning, I’ve studied just a
smattering of ancient Biblical Hebrew language and history. Among these things,
I learned that there is a particular day of infamy to ancient Israel, called Tisha
B'Av (תִּשְׁעָהבְּאָב). On this day, the 9th of the month
of Av (which varies on our calendar, but was July 22-23 this year, counting
sundown to sundown), they mark a number of disasters in their history, most
notably temple destructions in Jerusalem: first, Solomon’s Temple in 587 BC,
which was destroyed by the Babylonians; second, Herod’s Temple, destroyed by
the Romans in 70 AD. There are another dozen or so bad things that have
happened on Tisha B’Av over the centuries. It’s considered a time of mourning,
and of bad luck. You wouldn’t want to set you wedding date to coincide.
The month of September has become America’s Tisha B’Av, or
time of mourning.
from our neighborhood's 20th Commemoration of 9/11
This past Saturday I attended a neighborhood gathering to
commemorate the 20th anniversary since 9/11. It’s particularly
poignant this year because of the resounding defeat Biden and team have thrown
us into in Afghanistan.
We said we would never forget. And we haven’t. But the
occupier of the White House has
forgotten, and has shamed us all.
There was a purpose for going into Afghanistan. The terrorist-supporting
Taliban government had aided and abetted Osama bin Laden and terrorist
organization to recruit, train, and hide out, so they could wreak havoc on the
US and the world. We had a just cause. And we fulfilled it. That mission was
clear.
As happens in such cases, the bad guys hide out in caves and
over the border, where they could get safe haven, only to return once the forces withdraw. That meant, if we were to prevent them from retaking power,
we had to stay and help the local people stand up against them.
The least hint of giving up that support has led to
increased power for the Taliban. The mission hadn’t actually morphed, but the
way it was framed had. Supposedly we were no longer protecting our interests by
tamping down terrorism overseas—rather than facing the terrorists on our own
shores; now we were “nation building.” Some of that is true. We had to build up
a government in Afghanistan to prevent a vacuum that the Taliban would return
to fill. And after 20 years, and a media that wouldn’t frame it the way our
soldiers understood their mission, the US in general no longer had an appetite
for maintaining our presence there, even though they've been maintaining the peace much longer in Korea and Germany.
President Trump keyed into that anti-nation-building sentiment. And I'm not sure that was wrong. But his willingness—along with
the willingness of his opponents—to leave was heard loudly, as a rallying cry,
by our enemies. And his predecessors blithely pulled out without any normal consideration for how to do that without causing wreck and ruin.
The world is messy. It’s particularly messy in recent times.
More so in recent months.
At the event on Saturday, we had a color guard, from a
nearby Scout troop, present the colors and lead us in the pledges (in Texas we
do the US pledge, and then the Texas pledge; I don’t know if any other state
has one of their own). I talked with the scoutmaster afterward. It had been my
husband who recruited them to do it. His wasn’t the only troop to offer, but
his was the first. He was surprised that every troop within miles wasn’t
jumping at the chance. He made sure his boys understood how important this
event was. None of them had been born when it happened, so to them it’s like
marking the Pearl Harbor attack for most of the rest of us. It’s not ancient
history, but it’s before our time. So these young people need to be taught, and
shown, what this day has meant.
There were a great many things marking this day. One was the transcript of the 911 call from Todd Beamer, a passenger on flight 93 over Pennsylvania, who acted heroically that day. Several friends shared it. This shows who Americans really are, and who we honor.
At our little neighborhood gathering, I think we did the
quintessential American thing. We got together outside, on a beautiful sunny day in the shade of trees, honored the flag,
honored the fallen, and then talked about what we can do together to make our
community better. We had a number of school board candidates there, where we
could get to know them better. I’ll have more on that another day. But this is
the essence of self-government, to get involved at the local level. It gives me
some hope that our efforts to maintain freedom may be fruitful.
We had a speech about the day. It’s short, and was seen only
by our gathering, so I thought I’d share it here. It’s by our freshman state
representative, Lacey Hull, who says basically what needed to be said, ending
with this:
On September 11th, we lost so much. It was a tragedy that
struck the heart of our nation. But it reminded us that we have a heart. That e
pluribus unum isn’t just a motto; it’s one of our fundamental values, that
out of many, we are one—one nation under God. May God bless America and each
and every American. And may we never forget.
She’s right. I remember the unity we felt, as Americans—and along
with friends of America around the world—in the days after 9/11. Criticism of
America, already rampant even two decades ago, held its peace for at least a few months
while we mourned and held one another up. I miss that unity.
As we watch, in horror, at the administration-caused
catastrophe still ongoing in Afghanistan, including for American citizens, and
for many who totally supported us these past decades, it’s hard to be hopeful
about a future of freedom, prosperity, and civilization. We have leaders who
want tyranny, poverty, and savagery, as difficult as it is to comprehend that.
I know in the end that goodness wins; I’ve read the ending of the book. But I
don’t know what we all need to go through between now and that ending.
Sometimes I write in order to organize my thoughts, to know
exactly what it is I think. Other times I have to let ideas simmer for a while.
I’m thinking about how to be joyful during catastrophic times. One idea is to
keep a focus on what to be thankful for, and we still have a lot of that.
Another focus is how much God is with us during difficult times.
Back in earlier days, when I had small children, and I was
struggling with health issues that made daily life difficult, I remember
praying that I could take joy in my children. The health issues continued for a
very long time, but the joy in my children filled me. I took delight in the
blessing of having those children and watching them grow.
So I know that, if I pray now for joy in these sad times,
when our way of life is hanging by a thread, it’s a worthy thing to ask for and
will be granted. But I don’t yet know what the answer will look like.
In the meantime, may those of us who love liberty and our constitutional
republic hold together in unity, and invite all to unite with us in loving
freedom, prosperity, and civilization.
My experience living in hurricane territory is that, when
God wants to get the attention of people in the Gulf Coast—to turn them toward
Him and to get them to serve one another—He sends a hurricane. We had a big
awakening call in 2017 with Hurricane Harvey, so we were all relieved last
month when Hurricane Laura took an eastward turn and missed us entirely—putting us
in the preferable position of offering help, instead of suffering the need for help.
Nineteen years ago, a catastrophe brought us together. The
whole country. We were temporarily unified—in a good and positive way in the wake of suffering.
So, looking back on that 9/11 catastrophe nineteen years
ago, what did unity look like?
"Out of the Ashes," by Ken Turner
Earlier this week, one of my favorite artists, a friend, Ken
Turner, shared his different versions of “Out of the Ashes” on Facebook—my favorite
9/11 image, which I share with friends every year at this time (and I carry a small copy with me that he
gave me after a tour of his studio many years ago). He was originally
commissioned to do the painting by Randy Dean (I think that’s the former NY
football player) “to commemorate the loss and heroic sacrifices that took place
on 9/11 and the weeks following.” Ken finished the painting about four months
after the event.
There are various giclee versions (high quality
original-like copies). There are three of the original version. One went to the
FDNY (Fire Department of New York), one to Reagan International Airport, and
the third hangs in the George H. W. Bush Presidential Library in Texas.
But when the painting was revealed at a reception in New
York City, there were requests for additional versions. The NYPD (New York
Police Department) asked Ken to paint a flag raising specifically for theirs,
which now hangs in their museum.
NYPD version of "Out of the Ashes, by Ken Turner
And the Port Authority Police requested that he add, among
the crowd in the painting, the faces of some of the 37 of their officers who
died that day; he was able to include 10 of them. That giclee hangs in their
headquarters.
When I look at this painting—any version of it—I remember.
Not just the horror of the day, but the resolve, the unity, and the love that followed.
People got in their cars and drove across the country to NYC, and stayed for
days or weeks, working to rescue, clear debris, and do whatever they could to
help. People set up funds, and offered love and support in any way they could
find. We all said we would never forget.
I have briefly visited New York, but I don’t think I could
adapt to that foreign land today. Large numbers have never even met a
conservative (that they’re aware of). They define people like me—a person who
loves the freedom, prosperity, and civilization that come from a righteous people
following our Constitution in a free economy—as hateful, racist, bigoted, and
whatever other label for evil they tack on at any given time.
They don’t remember how we loved and prayed and cared for them in their
time of need.
Particularly we all—Americans everywhere, and many
people around the world—honored and respected the police and firefighters of
NYC who responded to help, running toward the danger, and some of them giving
their lives.
Ken Turner says the title “Out of the Ashes” was given to
the painting by Randy Dean, who commissioned it. But, in Ken’s mind there was
always a subtitle: “No Greater Love Has Man Than This.”[i]
They deserve honor. Not just for that day, but for every day
when they have put on the uniform and gone out to risk their lives in service
of the people. These first responders do that all over the country.
But today, instead of being honored, they are maligned and
defunded, even in one weird city in Texas.
A response to the Austin, TX, decision to defund their police. KXAN photo/Richie Bowes, from here
There’s something really heartbreaking about seeing people
this far apart, people who were unified, at least for a time, after that unforgettable date. And now we can’t even agree that what the police do is a good
thing. As on 9/11, the enemies of civilization tear down and destroy. Then the
truly civilized come in to rescue and clear away the debris.
These are irreconcilable differences, unless there is repentance—a
change of heart and a change of direction—from those doing the hating, and the
destruction in cities across the land. We can’t compromise with their evil.
Tough times, even catastophes, are all around us. That can
mean simply ongoing pain and misery, or that can mean a reminder to turn to God,
in a spirit of repentance.
I expect if someone is so far gone into savagery that they loot, and destroy, and even kill, and then call that good, they might
not wake up in the face of real suffering. But for those who will turn to the
side of good and light, I pray they will come to that side with an absolute
minimum of apocalyptic suffering.
We don’t want another 9/11 like that one in 2001. But,
whatever comes, people on the side of good and light—and the police, as a
profession, are among them—will run toward the danger to help. It’s who they
are.
That’s what our national motto means. And
it describes the sense we felt on this day 18 years ago.
The unthinkable had happened. To some specific 3000 people,
and to others nearby, and more still who were near and dear to all those lost and
affected. And we felt that it had happened to all of us.
On the day after, we felt that we were one.
We weren’t divided by political party, ethnic heritage, sex,
or race. We were all one.
Paul Bettencourt, my Texas State Senator, posted a photo
from the weekend after 9/11/01. He attended an Aggie football game (Texas
A&M University), and the people in the stadium were dressed in red, white,
and blue, according to which tier of the stadium they were in. That must have
included fans from both teams, because it’s the whole stadium. We were together,
then, as one.
Aggie Stadium (Kyle Field), the weekend after 9/11/01 photo from Senator Paul Bettencourt's Facebook page 9/11/2019
I don’t ever want to see another 9/11. That was a life
changing moment, the way Pearl Harbor was for my dad’s generation. But the
combined sense of mission and oneness is something Americans tend to show after
such an event.
Here in Houston we recognize something: when God wants to
unify the people of the Gulf Coast, he sends hurricanes and floods. Katrina.
Rita. Ike. Harvey. (That’s not a complete list.) At these times, regular people face
the challenge and step up to help. The desire to care for one another
overrides everything else. We don’t worry about religion, ethnicity, language,
race. We just see each other as people in need and people who are there to help
those in need.
In our country today, the sense of division is at dangerous
levels. I don’t say it’s the worst ever, because we’ve had a civil war. But the
divisions cut pretty deep. You can’t compromise with people who want to wield
power over you—to deprive you of your religious beliefs, your desire to protect your life,
liberty, and property. There’s only standing up against such tyrants. That’s
true even of would-be tyrants among us.
I saw this several times on Facebook this week. I don't know the original source, but I agree.
But there are people who are not meaning to be
tyrants, but are simply misinformed, giving in to emotional string-pulling, and
a mix of fear and covetousness. Those people can be one with us if they tune
out the controlling propaganda and come to see us as people.
I’d like to see that happen organically, by choice. I don’t
want some catastrophe to fall upon any of us just to get our attention and force us to see that caring for one another is paramount. But I do know that, in the past, catastrophe has resulted in greater unity. And if God is giving us time to
reunite by natural choice and we fail to take the opportunity, allowing a disaster
to bring about healing is not out of the realm of possibility. Because that
unity is important to the Father of us all.
Recently in our church reading assignment, we covered Paul’s
first letter to the saints in Corinth. In chapter 12, he uses the image of the
body to represent the saints together in a body—made up of many members, but
all important, all able to do their particular assignments. It comes after a
section talking about various gifts we all have; no one has them all, so we
benefit one another by being together. Here are a few of these verses:
12 For as the body is one, and hath many members, and all the
members of that one body, being many, are one body: so also is Christ….
14 For the body is not one member, but many.
15 If the foot shall say, Because I am not the hand, I am not
of the body; is it therefore not of the body?
16 And if the ear shall say, Because I am not the eye, I am
not of the body; is it therefore not of the body?
17 If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? If
the whole were hearing, where were the smelling?...
25 That there should be no schism in the body; but that the
members should have the same care one for another.
26 And whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with
it; or one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it.
We suffer together when we must. Wouldn’t we rather rejoice
together?
President John F. Kennedy saying "Ich bin ein Berliner." screenshot from here
There was a time when JFK stood at the Berlin Wall and said,
“Ich bin ein Berliner,” meaning that, on that day, he (and we Americans whom he
represented) stood in solidarity with the free people of Berlin—which should
have included them all—because we stood with the good, the right: the free.
After 9/11, not only were all Americans proudly saying, “I
am an American!” but much of the world was saying that with us.
I wish the unity had lasted longer. I wish it had not so
badly deteriorated this past decade. I wish for healing into unity by choice,
rather than by another life-changing tragedy. I want us to feel the caring for
one another that we felt on 9/12/2001—without the calamity that led to it.
Sixteen years ago enemy-caused disaster happened on American
soil. Our lives changed on that day. We dug through the rubble, and helped one
another out of the ashes and debris. We were stunned. But we set our jaws and
said, “We will rebuild.”
Sixteen days ago nature-caused disaster happened on Texas soil. Our lives changed on that day. We dug through the rubble, and helped one another out of the flood waters and debris. We were stunned. But we set our jaws and said, “We will rebuild.”
One of the images from 9/11/2001 is of an American flag being flown on a pole among the debris.
Raising the Flag at Ground Zero
image from Wikipedia
In honor of that, a friend who has a pile of debris outside
his home, posted an American flag among the debris.
Derrick and Gloria Campos fly the American flag
on the debris in front of their flooded home
He is at the stage of mucking out where they could power wash
the floors, which he describes as, “One step closer to being one step closer to
being one step closer to being clean.” It’s not an easy process.
He’s had a good attitude about this, considering. This is
their third flood: Memorial Day Flood 2015, Tax Day Flood 2016, and Hurricane
Harvey 2017. All of these were rainfalls beyond expectation, beyond 100-year
flood levels (way beyond). They hadn’t built in a foolish place—unless you
expect these crazy storms. Odds are there won’t be another for half a
millennium. Yet they’ve come three years in a row.
Derrick told their story on the walls. And they had people from
each day’s work crew sign a wall. Here’s the collection.
Wall from Derrick Campos's flooded home
The collection was posted on Facebook by Amy Knight
All I can say is, I admire the good attitude and resilience.
It’s exemplary of who we are as Texans and Americans. We get to work, and we
rebuild.
I spent a week out of town, visiting my son and his family.
This was the view of our entrance when I left.
It was still a few days later before water was down to make
the roads passable, and people near us were able to get back to their homes and
begin the mucking out process, so they can eventually rebuild. On Saturday I
drove through those streets. And this was the common sight.
It’s not going to be easy. But the bones of these houses are
still good. Sometimes the insides are back to where they were 25-30 years ago,
during the original building process—bare concrete floors and wall studs. But a
year from now, barring further disaster, the signs of the storm will be hard
to see.
This is still my favorite image from 9-11-2001, “Out of the Ashes” by artist Ken Turner. It shows our indomitable America spirit.
"Out of the Ashes" by Ken Turner
There’s no painting or iconic image yet for Hurricane
Harvey. But, as a comparison, I’ll use this group of nearly 500 Mormon Helping Hands gathered yesterday morning for a brief church service and then instructions before dividing up into
work crews for yet another day of helping their neighbors dig out of the
debris. The photo was posted on Facebook by Melissa Willis, and captioned, "Get on your knees and pray, then get on your feet and get to work," quoting Gordon B. Hinckley.
Mormon Helping Hands from the Bear Creek Stake Center is Stake President Scott Welch; at the podium is his counselor, President Dave Hansen
As I’m writing this, we’re waiting for news about how
Florida has survived Hurricane Irma. Early reports are that the storm was not
as devastating as it might have been; it had been a category 5 hurricane, but
by landfall last night was down to a category 1. But that’s still a dangerous
storm. So our prayers are with them today. We’re with them in spirit.
I hope the fear of storms doesn’t interfere with our lives.
Or the fear of loss. Or the sadness at lost treasures—photos, heirlooms,
surroundings. I hope what lasts is the memory of helping one another, of being
in this together, rebuilding together.
A few days ago we were driving down the freeway and came
upon this billboard. Interesting question, I thought.
During the early days after the attack, we Americans were
remarkably united. There weren’t two ways of looking at things: we were
attacked, unprovoked, on our own soil, with the intention of killing as many
Americans as possible, and causing us to cower in fear. The enemy’s goal then,
and still, is either our totally annihilation or total submission.
That didn’t work, because we’re Americans. We stood up, fought
back, and rebuilt.
But the billboard question is relevant, because after just
the first year or so, there was a separation between Americans who love America
and want to be good citizens, and Americans who disapprove of America as a constitutional
republic and insist America is evil until it is fundamentally transformed, preferably
into a democratic socialist regime. We’re separated into those who became
better citizens of America and citizens-in-name-only who do not pledge allegiance to the Republic.
Good citizens of America know the Constitution
better now than we did in 2001. We pay more attention, contact our
representatives more often, and speak up more often.
Good citizens vote more regularly, and more informed, than
they voted before 2001.
Good citizens support our first responders—the police and
fire department, the FBI, and other protectors—and acknowledge the daily risks
they take to keep us safe. Good citizens support our military, who have risked
and sacrificed so much to fight the enemy abroad, to avoid having to fight the
enemy here.
Good citizens tend to be puzzled by the growing number of fellow
Americans who assume, without evidence, that America is more racist and
stratified than ever before (and more than just about anywhere else), and that
America’s intentions internationally are imperialistic and oppressive. We’re
puzzled by the twisting that calls evil good and good evil, and the pervasive
media that assumes we all agree on these twists.
How could there be this divide, when we were so united after
the attack that is still fresh in our minds after 15 years?
Maybe it isn’t fresh enough in some minds. Maybe that’s why
we have to keep memorializing this day.
This painting, “Out of the Ashes,” by Ken Turner, continues
to be my favorite image of 9/11. There are a several versions of it, one in
NYPD headquarters, another in NYFD headquarters. The ghost images, different in
each version, represent actual people who died in the attack and the aftermath.
Several years ago there was a Darryl Worley song, “Have YouForgotten,” shared among the citizens around 9/11, with images to remind us. The words are still appropriate; this is the chorus:
Have you forgotten how it felt that day To see your homeland under fire And her people blown away? Have you forgotten when those towers fell We had neighbors still inside Going through a living hell? And you say we shouldn't worry 'bout Bin Laden. Have you forgotten?
This year I came across a new one. The song isn’t new, but
the rendition along with the images is new. It’s Simon and Garfunkel’s “Sounds
of Silence,” done grittier, with the images we shouldn’t forget. Worth watching
in remembrance.
Another video I hadn’t seen is from a girls’ dorm room at
NYU. They record what’s happening after a plane crashed into the first tower.
They don’t yet understand what is going on; they think it is a freak accident,
and while they’re shocked, they’re still pretty calm. Then the second one hits,
and someone receives news that it’s terrorism, and the panic hits. This is not
for the faint of heart, but it bears watching, to remind us we weren’t
exaggerating the magnitude of the attack. The link is here.
On Glenn Beck’s show today, he interviewed a man who survived
the attack on the Pentagon, because he had stepped out of his office to use the
restroom. He was badly burned, but no one else in his office survived. I think he is allowing this episode available for viewing without a subscription, at least for a time.
I think we need to keep these images in mind. Not so we can
remain angry and vengeful. But so that we can recognize that there is a real
battle still going on—between good and evil. Good citizens will be very clear
about which side they’re on.
“A people that no longer remembers has
lost its history and its soul.”—Aleksander Solzhenitsyn
It’s always good to wake up on a 9/11 anniversary and find
the world continues. That is a blessing. Two years ago it was a blessing we
didn’t get; that was the Benghazi attack, along with the administration’s lying about
it not being perpetrated by Muslim extremists, for reasons still not clear.
There is plenty of unrest today, in the Middle East and elsewhere. But, so far today, no attack on America has hit the news.
So I’ll take the day to share some images of remembrance.
My favorite continues to be “Out of the Ashes,” painted by
Ken Turner.
"Out of the Ashes" by Ken Turner
And next to that is the photo of responders posting a flag among
the rubble.
photo by 2001 The Record/Getty Images
Today I’m adding a few favorites I found posted on Facebook. My
apologies if I can’t find original sources; my intent is simply to pass along
the honor intended by those who posted.
from my friend Janet's Instagram, posted on Facebook
posted by Gov. Rick Perry on Facebook
posted by Sen. Ted Cruz on Facebook
posted by Bryan Preston of PJ Media on Facebook
with the comment "still angry"
logo for the day for Not on This Watch Facebook page
another image from Not on This Watch on Facebook
from my friend LaDonna's Facebook
I love the simplicity of this one
One young
friend posted this less familiar verse of our national anthem, which is worth repeating:
Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall
stand
Between their loved homes and the war's
desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the
heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved
us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is
just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our
trust."
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall
wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the
brave!
I flew the
flag today. This is not a holiday, but it has become a holy day—because we make
it so. It is a day we remember who we are as Americans, as civilized people,
standing up against tyranny and savagery. Giving up, giving in—is not an
option. We will not rest from fighting that war until the Savior returns to
reign personally upon the earth.
It has been a decade already. I expect you also remember where you were when you heard. I was at a homeschool family camp, about five hours from home, in an idyllic setting along the FrioRiver in central Texas. In that little valley we had no television or radio. Some people drove to the top of the hill (this required driving out through a river and up a mile of steep dirt road) to get cell phone reception or listen to the news on a car radio.
Mr. Spherical Model and our oldest, Political Sphere, were planning to join us the next day. Mr. Spherical Model got sent home from work, and they checked in with us later in the day. And they and other latecomers brought newspapers with them when they arrived.
So I had the rare experience of being shocked slowly by that event. I couldn’t sit glued to the television and fret, which I’m sure I would have done at home. News filtered in piecemeal. There were newspaper photos of bodies falling from the towers, which have stayed burned into memory. But by the time I got home most of a week later, television news was no longer repeating the footage of the buildings falling, or the second plane hitting its target. Today I would simply get online and look up the info and video, but that wasn’t something I was in the habit of doing a decade ago. It wasn’t until the summer of 2004, at a state GOP convention, when they did a montage of the tragedy and what had happened since, that I actually saw the footage. It was stunning even then. I don’t expect to ever not have this event in memory in my lifetime.
I have a couple of favorite images following 9/11. One is of the flag rescuers mounted on the rubble, looking a bit like the Iwo Jima moment. The other is the painting above, by Ken Turner, “Out of the Ashes.” It was begun in November 2001. There are several versions, hanging in the George H. Bush Presidential Library in Texas, the NY Governor’s Office, NYPD, FDNY, and Port Authority Police DepartmentNew York and New Jersey Headquarters. In each version, there are real portraits of the heroes in the painting. Additionally, there are “ghost” portraits, faintly visible people in the painting, of real persons lost in the tragedy. I love how the image makes me feel—that there is still light, and we are walking strong out of the darkness of that rubble into the light—surviving together. I very much remember how we all felt our lives touch one another during that time.
Ken Turner is a Texas artist, born on the 4th of July, 1948. My daughter-in-law grew up going to the same church he attended. So a few years ago I took a group of homeschool teens on a field trip to his studio. It was in a historic old building in Columbus, about an hour toward San Antonio from Houston. He is known for historic paintings, from both US and Texas history, and also religious works. He was working on one at that time of the Last Supper. I was interested in how he went about the painting. The first layer or two was fairly plain, just color blocks. Then he added detailed layers over time. He said he kept at it until he couldn’t make it any better. By then it would be lifelike and rich in detail.
He had postcard sized prints of “Out of the Ashes” that he gave to each of us. I have carried it with me ever since.
If you’re interested in Ken Turner art, I suggest you contact him online at the Turner/Chapman Gallery. I believe he has moved his studio to his home, in even more rural Texas, so don’t run out there for a field trip without contacting him. I saw this video of him recently, explaining the giclee reproduction process of “Out of the Ashes.”
I don’t normally post on Sunday. I’m actually writing this on Saturday, setting it to post automatically Sunday morning, and plan to keep it up in place of Monday’s post. The moment of realizing we would survive after 9/11 was worth remembering on the tenth anniversary; and this image of that moment was worth seeing for an extra day.
