Less than a year after the most traumatic event to take place in my city and country during my lifetime, I find it impossible to write objectively about it. Of course the art world has been affected; indeed, as a result, debates about what constitutes art have intensified. From my vantage point, in the midst of it all, I find it challenging to make any evaluations at all.

Michael Richards’ self-portrait as St. Sebastian. The sculptor died in the Trade Center attacks. Photo by Frank Stewart

Most immediately in the aftermath of the explosions, there were the photographs in the newspapers and on TV. Nobody can forget the sight of planes penetrating towers, unimaginable flames and collapse, the scenes of human beings throwing themselves out of windows. Over and over again, the media attempted to make real the inconceivable, as if by repetition it would somehow become fathomable. It never did—and never will. Instead it was the instantaneous popular reactions that brought it home: the shrines and memorials people set up at firehouses, on street corners, in parks, in subways; the flowers, photos, drawings, paintings, thank-you letters. These homemade, folk reactions brought forth the tears that counteracted the desensitization unwittingly caused by repetitious media images.

Visual artists have always both predicted and reflected their times. The images of 9/11 reverberate with the paradox permeating every aspect of the world today. Pictures emerge of horror and beauty, abstraction and reality. Many documentary photos, drawings, and paintings celebrate the bravery and resilience of humanity, but others condemn its abominations. This is nothing new; war images are always full of contradictions.

The first two shows I remember were the spontaneous storefront photo exhibit in SoHo and "911/ Artists Respond," first in Red Hook, Brooklyn, and then reinstalled in the Bronx. These were followed by the Max Protetch Gallery exhibit of proposed memorials, as well as many photo exhibitions at the New York Historical Society, the Museum of the City of New York, and the International Center of Photography, along with numerous galleries. A number of public murals also emerged, most significantly a block-long outdoor piece facing the Long Island Expressway in Sunnyside, Queens, and one across from Cooper Square, near the Bowery, titled "Forever Tall" and sponsored by CityArts.

Jim Knight’s photograph “Firefighter with Flag and Helmet #343” from Brotherhood: In Strength and Sorrow—Images of the F.D.N.Y. Photo courtesy of the Museum of the City of New York

A different kind of artwork, depicted with "electronic pigment," can be seen on the Internet. Feeling inured to the tragedy by media overload, one young artist, Eryk Salvaggio, says he wants to "reclaim the imagery's human dimension." He attempts to do this by digitally combining the victims' names with images of the planes, the fires, and the collapsing towers. The piece, which has been compared to painting, appears in the Net-art section of Salvaggio's Web site, www.salsabomb.com.

There have also been multimedia responses to September 11. One of the most fascinating is the video artist Nam June Paik's Transmission, which opened at Rockefeller Center on June 26. It combines recordings of Mozart's Requiem and Americana such as "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Oh! Susannah" with laser beams shot from a 33-foot tower. It has been called "a gorgeous evocation of loss."

Two recent shows at the Museum of the City of New York comment on 9/11. One, "A Community of Many Worlds: Arab Americans in New York City," was years in the planning, but 9/11 made it necessary to add a section to the exhibition. The press release states that "Arab New Yorkers were doubly affected by the events of September 11. As they mourned the unspeakable tragedy, they suffered from a backlash of ignorance that unjustly blamed them for it." The second show, "Brotherhood: In Strength and Sorrow—Images of the F.D.N.Y.," was a photographic tribute to New York City firefighters, inspired by a book of the same title. It is a mostly unsentimental documentary view of the everyday life and artifacts of firefighters—clothing, boots, fire-station living quarters, and the like. In a way, it is reminiscent of Holocaust memorials. What can one say of such horrors? The artifacts and photos of the victims are all that remain; they say it all.

Steven Dana’s “Patriotism begins in the home” from the exhibit S.V.A. Commemorates 9/11: Art & Observance.

And what of the utopian, original, and inspirational proposals to rebuild at the World Trade Center site seen at the Protetch Gallery last fall and early winter? I guess no official took them seriously. Instead, the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation attempted to pass off six unimaginative and nearly interchangeable proposals as a discussion basis for New Yorkers. In a July 17 editorial, The New York Times calls these "the downtown we don't want;" and on July 20 5,000 people attended an unprecedented town meeting to add their voices and opinions. Perhaps this popular response is the most significant artistic answer to 9/11. There is a caring about aesthetics and an unwillingness among New Yorkers to be pushed around by capitalism's and bureaucracy's demands.

There will, of course, be many upcoming exhibitions concerning 9/11. One of them, the "School of Visual Arts Commemorates 9/11: Art and Observance," will take place from September 11 to October 9 at the Visual Arts Museum, 209 East 23rd Street. The varied work will include photography, painting, sculpture, video, and mixed media.

The first responses to 9/11 were raw, immediate, and popular. Art and artists go on—just as we did at Juilliard when, immediately after the attack, everything seemed meaningless. All kinds of art continue. Perhaps some of the frivolousness of recent art is disappearing. Sometimes art, like life, is about simply persevering, and not allowing terrorists to stop us. Sometimes it's more direct, commenting on war and violence. Time will be needed to assess the first raw responses, and to see whether a Guernica will be produced from the detritus.

The tragic story of Michael Richards may be the most direct connection between the world of the visual arts and September 11. Technology, especially aviation, had long constituted a major theme for him. He both celebrated flight as an end to repression and saw it as a move towards redemption. Let us hope that we can carry on his legacy.