What is Missing, Rethinking 9/11 Memorials

In collaboration with the Brooklyn Arts Council Dumbo Improvement District, this past Saturday, The Ripple Project marked the tenth anniversary of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks with an interactive memorial alongside nine other stations featuring prominent artists on the streets of Dumbo. In a continuing effort to explore stories which lie behind the headlines and as part of the Brooklyn Arts Council’s Rethinking Memorial: Ten Interactive Sites for remembering 9/11, The Ripple Project sought out ordinary New Yorkers and asked a seemingly obvious yet oft overlooked question: “What is missing in the conversation surrounding 9/11?” The responses we received ran the gamut: many thoughtful and reflective, others colorful and controversial.

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In documenting these responses we hoped to inspire a diversity of reactions: anger, renewal, denial, indignation, apathy, conspiracy theories, paranoia, patriotism, prejudice, and sadness, all while preserving a common thread of humanity in shared experience.

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In the coming weeks we hope to edit this footage into a short, lyrical piece, which reflects our belief that the best memorial we can give to those who have passed is to continue to reflect and find new perspectives on the events of Sept.11th in the attempt to examine why the events of Sept.11th happened and what we can learn about ourselves in their aftermath.

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Paul Angell Plainfield, VT

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Paul Angell is my uncle, he has kept Plainfield, VT as his home base since 1975 but has always come and gone to travel and work abroad. This Vignette focuses on Paul's time in Uganda in 1986 and 1987 as AIDS first began to take it's toll on the country. -Dylan Angell Vignettes Director/Producer

Benjamin Graham: Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, USA

The first meal I ever shared with Fayaz was over a year ago. I was an intern at the International Rescue Committee and Fayaz had just arrived in Washington DC via Afghanistan, carrying little more than a green card and a suitcase. As an intern, my primary responsibility was to help resettling refugees adapt to life in America, and on one particular afternoon, this meant driving with Fayaz to a social services office in northern Virginia.We spent the afternoon filling out food stamp applications and sitting through inconclusive interviews, all of which left us annoyed and hungry by the end of the day. On the drive back, I thought it would be a good idea to introduce Fayaz to the most American of cuisines, a value meal at McDonald's.Up to this point Fayaz had taken to America rather easily, navigating the DC metro system and applying for a credit card by himself, but he was completely stumped as he stood in front of the McDonald's menu. I advised him to stay away from the Big Mac for a while, and that the grilled chicken sandwich would be a safe choice for a beginner.Eying the sandwich suspiciously, Fayaz took his first bite; chewed slowly - paused - and then spat the food back into its bag. "You didn't tell me there was pork on this!" he snorted, pulling a translucent strip of bacon from his mouth with his thumb and index finger. I apologized and explained that I didn't eat at McDonald's often and I hadn't known that the grilled chicken sandwich came with bacon. I had also momentarily forgotten that Muslims don't eat pork.Fayaz wouldn't take another bite, but he did enjoy the fries. As he munched, he explained to me that there weren't any pigs in Afghanistan, except maybe in a zoo, and their certainly wasn't any bacon. I was fascinated that he could be happy in life without bacon, but he assured me it was possible. I continued to ask more questions about his country and his home life, all of which I knew surprisingly little about considering the ongoing war in Afghanistan.This would prove to be the experience that propelled our relationship past the realm of just work, because a few weeks later, after my internship ended, I got a call from Fayaz inviting me to an Afghan restaurant. I had introduced him to American food, now it was his turn to return the favor. We kept in contact over the next couple months, sometimes meeting up for Afghan food, but never going back to McDonald's.I didn't stay in DC for long, and after a stint working for a newspaper in Nepal, I began making plans to move to New York. I was already in the city, going down my list of acquaintances and moving from couch to couch as I hunted for apartments, when Fayaz called. It had been several months since we last talked, and coincidentally he was now living with a friend in Brooklyn.When I asked about his couch situation, he said that he didn't have one, but that I was welcome to stay with him and his friend for the entire month if I was okay with being a little cramped. I was okay with it.-Ben Graham