On September 11, in Washington Square Park, I offered a public ritual of remembrance—an embodied memorial for the dead. Moving through the park as Angelbird, I entered a shared civic space not as stage, but as threshold: a place where grief, memory, and presence could meet in the open air.

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Only later did I learn that the square was once a potter’s field, a burial ground for thousands whose names are largely unknown. The discovery did not change the work—it deepened it. It revealed a continuity beneath the surface, a quiet alignment between the gesture and the ground. What I had felt intuitively—that the land holds memory, that unseen histories call us into relationship—was affirmed.

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The performance became not only an offering to those lost on September 11, but to all who rest there, and to the enduring human need to gather, remember, and bear witness together.

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Photos by Dotan Saguy.