We know that art is often born of calamity. Throughout history artists have created works that were inspired and affected by wars, political strife, economic upheaval and cultural intolerance.

As Arthur C. Danto wrote in the preface to the exhibit he curated in 2005, The Art of 9/11, “even the most ordinary people respond to tragedy with art.“ He was speaking specifically of the anonymous shrines left at various locations in the neighborhood of ground zero.

Additionally and alternatively, artist Eric Fischal sculpted a bronze statue entitled, “Tumbling Woman” which was installed at the Rockefeller Center in 2002, only to be quickly covered up and later removed a week later. Apparently, many citizens of New York found the work in poor taste.

Since the early ’90s, I’ve completed three installments of a photographic series entitled, “Myth America”. One was part of a larger group exhibit curated by jake moore called “Portage & Main”, the second was installed in the entrance to the Winnipeg bus terminal, while the third adorned the sides of twenty local transit buses during the Pan-Am games.

It’s a series I continue to visit and consider and hope to eventually complete. Ever since the attacks on the World Trade Center I’ve expected to include some aspect of the events in another version of this project.

I should clarify that when using the term myth, I mean it in its original sense, mythos, not in the way people erroneously use it today – that is, as a metaphor for falsehood. The word that should be used in that context is fallacy.

The image above may or may not be part of a “Myth America IV”. Either way, I’m glad it’s finally finished.

While organizing my office recently, I began sorting through various folders, drawers and containers.

Opening an antique, tin tobacco box, I found among assorted sea shells, pebbles and Euro coins, this clipping from the Montreal Gazette, circa 1992 (I lived in la belle province while studying at Concordia University).

It seemed like an artifact worth keeping.

The riots in Los Angeles, allegedly ignited by actions of the LAPD against Rodney King sparked a maelstrom of violence and mayhem – a far cry from the oxymoronic phrase “civil unrest”.

“Pardon me, but you seem to have left your masonry brick atop my head”, he cried. “Goodness, my bad, allow me remove it forthwith and toss it with impunity through that plate glass window – securing televisions – soon to be obsolete – for you and your brethren”, came the reply.

Many events, including the Expos/Dodgers ball game, had to be held at a later date.

Arsenio Hall was the talk show du jour (I bet he’d take a 12:05 time slot). Tuning in, the studio audience was skeletal at best, the host was humble(ish) and Lou Reed was the musical guest. Did you ever imagine these two characters together on the same stage?

Talk about a captive audience.

I came across a story earlier today about someone discovering several photographs of President Kennedy in a thrift store.

This got me thinking about several color photographs of JFK in my possession.

In 1963, my father – the same one who recently published a book about Canadian aviation history – was working at the Winnipeg Tribune. On September 23rd, Kennedy was making an appearance at the University of North Dakota to receive an honorary law degree. Apparently, he was traveling throughout the western United States, giving speeches on conservation. While in Grand Forks, the president strongly endorsed the Garrison diversion project. Dad was dispatched to cover the story – not only as a reporter, but an ersatz photographer.

This was two months prior to the president’s assassination in Dallas, Texas.

My father’s proximity to both the presidential entourage and motorcade was remarkably close and not something that would be possible today.

Dad was using a Voigtländer 35mm range-finder camera and shooting with Kodachrome 64 film (which has recently been discontinued). This gives the images a lush and saturated quality.

The images posted here are scans of prints that dad had made for me from the original slides  while I was studying photography in Montreal.

To me, the last image in this series is remarkable. Looking beatific and wearing a ceremonial gown, Kennedy stands before the assembled crowd prior to receiving his degree.

The surreal and ghostly quality of the last image is caused partly by the fact my father didn’t have a flash on his camera. Though he had to use a very slow shutter speed the other photographers’ strobes were able to freeze the president as dad made the exposure.

Serendipity.