Overview

Overview

The word “delayering” first emerged from the radio one week after the first plane shot past my Soho studio. The term struck me as the perfect description of how the World Trade Towers disappeared.

On the morning of September 11th, I watched the South Tower drop out of the skyline after its twin had fallen, as though the building had been erased from the top down by an invisible animated hand. No sound, no smoke; only blue sky remained.

Months later, a New York City fireman described having heard a clicking or popping sound, possibly the sound of each floor snapping free from its vertical supports. The cascading mass increased with each floor crashing onto the one below. The structures delayered.

The collapse of the two towers instigated a prolonged period of global adjustment, spanning nearly two decades until the COVID-19 pandemic. The pandemic took hold more slowly and led into a new period of significant cultural readjustment.

Many 9/11 stories relate to grief, bravery, or conspiracy. Delayering follows a different path, capturing the evolving quotidian aftermath of that day. The events are not interpreted; they are noticed and shared from the vantage point of each recorded day.

My early training as a cabinetmaker and sculptor gives me a tactile understanding of materials and design, informing what I notice. As an architectural conservator, I am frequently called on to collect and record information for museums from the Getty in Los Angeles to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston.

An independent person’s detailed view, recorded in real-time, holds unique value.  

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