Reflections on 9/11, 15 years later....

This morning, 15 years ago, I was about to head out the door to class, when my Dad called. He said turn on the TV, and that Mom called him from work, and wanted to know if I was OK. So I tuned on the TV, and I saw one of the twin towers on fire. As my Dad and I were talking, a plane crashed into the other twin tower. At that point, I can't fully remember what my Dad and I were talking about. I think we were just speculating as to the whats and whys to what was happening.

My Dad and I spoke for just a little while longer, and before hanging up, he said how glad he was to know that I was alright. I continued to watch the broadcasts, when the first tower came down. It was then that I really started to worry about those who I knew worked in lower Manhattan. After the second tower fell, I was in a state of disbelief, sadness, and anger.

I have to thank my Dad for calling me at that time, because who knows what would have happened to me. On a normal day, I would have been heading for the subway, on my way to SVA. And depending on my mood, and how the trains were running, I could have been on the local R train that runs directly through lower Manhattan and the financial district. Or I could have been on the express N or D trains which would have given me a clear view of the World Trade Center from the Manhattan Bridge.

The remainder of that day, I was just in a fog. I wandered down 4th Avenue, from 44th Street, in Brooklyn, towards Flatbush Avenue. All of the cars, sidewalks and street had a layer of ash building up from the burning of the World Trade Center site. As I was walking, the streets were just quiet, but filled with a bunch of us just wandering, just trying to get a grip on what was happening. I continued to walk up 4th, then down Flatbush toTillary Street, and my old apartment building in Fort Greene.

I decided to go to McDonalds across from my old apartment building, to get something to drink. The parking lot and inside were packed with people. And I remember a man getting loud and angry with a cashier about his change. And that was when a number of people, including myself, confronted this guy and got him to calm down. One of the people said to the guy, "It's not that serious, you see what's going on out here." The man at the counter just shook his head in agreement, and we checked to see if the cashier was OK.

Who knows how the weight of the moment was affecting people. I sat outside of the McDonalds parking lot on the curb and noticed a huge throng of hundreds, if not thousand of people who were coming off the Brooklyn Bridge. All of these people were covered in ash and soot. And again, with all of these people walking, it was just quiet. But the people all looked the same, you could barely tell anyone apart.

I then walked over to Brooklyn Heights, and tried to use pay phones to get a hold of one of my friends who worked in lower Manhattan. For a while, I just kept getting a busy signal, and cell phones didn't work. So I went into a bodega and bought a disposable camera. I then walked over to the Brooklyn Promenade, and was amazed by what I saw. There were a great number of people, some with their hands over their mouths, and other with their heads down, sobbing. Across the promenade was lower Manhattan, and a huge billow of smoke that looked like a volcano. When I saw that huge cloud of smoke engulfing lower Manhattan, it truly hit me as to what I was looking at.

The rest of the day is a blur. I can't even fully remember how I got home, or what I even ate. All subways and public transportation were shut down. All bridges and tunnels were closed, and Manhattan was closed off as well. Later that day I was able to get in touch with my friend, who worked in lower Manhattan. Fortunately for whatever reason, he said he didn't go in that day and was OK.

The next day, train access was limited, and the few trains going into Manhattan were only able to go above 14th street. I remember hoping on the train and going to Union Square, and being startled by how empty the streets were. The movie theater on 12th and Broadway was open though, and showing all movies for free. So to occupy my mind with something mindless, I went in and watched American Pie 2.

I think it was after the movie, that I saw a crowd at Union Square. There were a number of drawings and hopeful messages written in chalk on the ground. It was somber and quiet, as we were all in a circle. I fondly remember a woman with a flag in her hand, that had an uplifting message on it. She knelt down to put this flag between the cracks of the pavement bricks. At that point, I looked around and saw people from every race, religion, and class together as New Yorkers and as Americans... 

"Chico and Rita" inspires the imagination...

Just imagine being in Havana, Cuba in 1948. Living the wondrous life in the Hollywood and New York of the Caribbean. During this period, Cuba was the playground of White, well-to-do, Americans, in search of the Afro-Cuban rhythms, food and culture. The setting begins in a club, where Ramon and Chico are playing escorts to a couple of American young ladies. While playing host, Chico becomes captivated by the serenading voice and physical beauty of a young singer named Rita.

 "Chico and Rita" is a simple and complicated story of love. Both Chico and Rita are chasing their love of jazz, their love of fame, but most of all, love of each other. Chico is a talented piano player, who yearns play and create music. Rita wants to use her voice to achieve the dream life. And just when it seems that the both of them are about to be together, their conflicting loves end up pulling them apart. It is the music that remains the tying thread, which takes them to the heights of success, and down to the pain of failure, but it never breaks.

 This film is an artistic masterpiece of the melding of 2D and 3D animation. The colors, uneven lines, and volumous landscapes, frame the composition of Afro-Cuban life, in pre-revolutionary Cuba, America, and Europe. As an African American, it was wonderful to see another part of the African diaspora, and see how it fits seamlessly within the African American experience. Although inescapably Cuban, there is no escape from the caste system that separates Chico and Rita from full acceptance and success. The two of them navigate through racism, hope, and dreams, no differently than that of such American counterparts, like Dizzy Gillespie or Ella Fitzgerald.

 What is presented is an often repeated story of love, loss, and redemption. But even in it's familiarity, "Chico and Rita" succeeds in grabbing hearts and imagination, within its suspension of disbelief. Please look at animation as another medium that transcends age and culture, in its ability to entertain, enlighten, and inspire. This Academy Award nominated animated film, "Chico and Rita" most definitely fits within that definition. Chico and Rita Trailer

 James Bowman 3D Animator, Artist, and Arts Educator

Why New York has had a hold on me

I can't help but love the sound, the food, the lights, the people, the music, the art, the films, and the entire existence of this city. I have become addicted to this city, and as in most addictions, they must be ended. For me, New York City became my awakening of self, and the awakening of what exists in life. This place molded my raw mid-western abilities into an ever sharpened tool to be used anywhere I see fit. This city allowed me to let go of my inhibitions and express what I had been to afraid to unleash.

But this city also becomes a curse, that without effort, no one can overcome. If one allows this city to use you, you can become a balled up wad of trash, swept up and shipped off to a landfill. Or you could become trapped in an ever continuing cycle of struggle and success, which could have one not realizing that years and decades have gone by.

I have experienced the joys and struggles of being a dreamer, trapped in the NYC maze in which others have been in control of whether I am able to travel through to the end. I have experienced the high of having my first animated film seen in Times Square and in Harlem. I have had the great fortune to meet great people within entertainment, politics, and the creative circles. But within such success, I have until now, remained the cliche of a starving artist, always looking for that big break.

This cycle has continued for me for seven years, since graduating with my MFA Degree. Having to work in bookstores and hoping for adjunct teaching positions. All just to get by until my big break would come. What broke this cycle, was to think outside and away from the glamour of New York. To know that this city has harnessed what I need to succeed anywhere I please. And in a surprised moment, my chance, my break came more than a thousand miles away.

I am now an full animation professor at a school in Arizona. I will be able to teach and create, with the freedom that I had dreamed of. I will be able to concentrate on my field, instead of how am I going to pay the bills. I can relax and have time to myself, instead of always being on the run looking for the next opportunity. The kicker was to kick my addiction to New York City. The city where I still love the sound, the food, the lights, the people, the music, the art, the films, and its entire existence.

Maybe I haven't kicked that addiction yet, New York is still in my blood.


James N Bowman