Last week, I wrote about the winning design for the World Trade Center Memorial. This morning, the designer revealed revisions to the original plan. The changes are subtle, but they completely transform the space.
Trees will be planted all around the sunken tower footprints, adding color and warmth to the somber, stark gray of the reflecting pools. Because the trees are deciduous, their leaves will bud and change color with the seasons. In fall - the season of the terrorist attacks - the leaves will die and fall away. Brittle, crisp leaves crunched to dust under foot, recalling the ashes and papers blown through the streets of New York. In winter, bare branches open the canopy overhead, allowing sunlight to fall on the footprints, a visual metaphor for enlightenment, insight. Spring's budding leaves bring the promise of new life after a cold, barren season, while the lush colors of summer remind visitors that life can be joyful again. Grief does not last forever, even if absence does. Just as memory and grief have different seasons, so will the World Trade Center site. With this one small revision, the memorial has come to life.
And because the trees will grow, they act as a counter to the negative spaces where the towers once stood. Out of grief, sprouts new life. I love the way this design uses nature to heal. What was once a tomb is now a living archaeological site. A place. This is exactly what I want from public art - a sense of process and change.
An underground museum is also in the works, and when I know more about the design and curatorial philosophy, I will write about it here.