- The Washington Times - Saturday, February 23, 2002

New Yorker Carmen Einfinger breathed dust and smelled odors from ground zero long after September 11. Her neighborhood was sealed off for a week. "During the disaster, I created works like 'Explosion' from memory and photographs. I tried to make sense of what I personally witnessed," she says.
The artist put acrylic, felt and stitching on canvas to show five patterned figures running from the burning World Trade Center towers. The design and primary colors used for the fire and pell-mell running create a powerful image.
Miss Einfinger says the work stems from the primal therapy she undertook. Reared in Brazil by a Hungarian father and Dutch mother, Miss Einfinger says her parents divorced when she was 4. Her education at Brown University and Rhode Island School of Design, plus an artist-in-residence fellowship last year at Gedok Schleswig-Holstein in Lubeck, Germany, didn't eliminate her distress over the divorce, she says.
"If one has a difficult childhood, one has blocks. Primal therapy opens up the blocks. I was able to gain the unity that I had lost in childhood. Painting for me is a primal experience. I just have to access it. Every time I go to the canvas I feel OK with the world," she says.

Marilyn Cohen of Mount Kisko, N.Y., says the New York Times' "Portraits of Grief," or short stories about the victims of the World Trade Center terrorist attacks, stimulated her to make the exhibit's colorful "Quilt of Sorrows." She made a collage of watercolor-dyed torn paper on canvas.
"I was mesmerized by the sketches of people like those I knew. Seeing [the sketches] every day, I wanted to do something, but I didn't think there was anything I could do," she says.
For her, the 60 faces of the quilt represent the thousands she could not include. "As the daily pages accumulated, I was struck by the diversity of faces and lives. They reflect who we are as a nation. I wanted to create a work that would be both a memorial to the lost and a reflection of our collective grief," Miss Cohen says.
The artist points to the shadows of the two towers around the central area and the blue sky at the top shading down to fire red at the bottom. "It evolved as I worked on it. At first it was sad, but as the work progressed, I realized the often-smiling, assured faces I was capturing echoed an earlier time, before 9/11."

Maxwell MacKenzie is an architectural photographer who lives in Washington and spends summers in his family's second home in Minnesota. It's near the town where he grew up, Fergus Falls, Minn.
Mr. MacKenzie photographs the wooden barns, farmhouses and schoolhouses in Minnesota and surrounding states, structures that are rapidly disappearing. In 1996, he shot a deserted schoolhouse for "Near Havre, Hill County, Montana 1996," a silver gelatin black-and-white print displayed in the exhibit. It's from his book "American Ruins: Ghosts on the Landscape."
It holds a single American flag on its tower.
"The puzzle here is the identity of the patriot who maintains the red, white and blue on the long abandoned building. The school bell, always much prized and usually the first thing to go, has been removed. I like to think that this one still rings out somewhere nearby, perhaps calling family members to supper," the photographer says.


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