Twenty Twenty One

From the Artist: I’ll never forget the email from Matthew Rao of the Governor Mario M. Cuomo Bridge. It was late 2019 and Matthew was requesting my input for the signage that would accompany my bicycle rack to be installed on the bridge’s much anticipated bicycle and pedestrian path. I was delighted once again. Apart from the feelings of jubilation from being a very small part of this monumental project, I was quietly proud to see my name in print. “2020” would appear on the plaque and I was instantly teeming with a greater sense of purpose. Riding high on a successful artistic comeback in 2019, I was determined to make 2020 the breakout year that every artist dreams of. Twenty-twenty would serve as a springboard for a decade of artistic excellence. I vividly remember reading Matthew’s email in my studio while enthusiastically taking mental stock on materials and tools with an unfettered curiosity for the creative journey 2020 would inspire. Weeks later with the newly implemented pandemic lockdown in place and countless souls already lost to the Covid-19 virus, I stood in the burned out 110th street subway station, train cars in carnage, the station’s beams still hot from the fire and word that MTA officials were en-route to notify Train Operator Garrett Goble’s family of his tragic passing. That unfettered childlike curiosity about a creatively boundless 2020 vanished replaced by a reality of shock and uncertainty. There was an eerie feeling of loss that morning, not only for Mr. Goble’s family and their unspeakable pain, but for humanity as well. Amongst my colleagues and myself, there was a silent yet collective understanding of our entrance into an indefinite period of societal strain.

As 2020 persisted, New York was now in the midst of the pandemic’s darkest days. I counted myself blessed to travel freely with three letters of essential employment all of which directly related to welding. Watching friends vacate the city to safer harbors most on account of unemployment, I reflected on past personal career decisions with humble gratitude. My afternoons and evenings were spent in my studio indulging in music and gourmet bodega coffee while completing my bicycle rack for the Cuomo Bridge. My nights were dutiful in the subways assuring the third rail system was in proper upkeep. As the pandemic raged on, I helplessly watched New York City suffer a parallel mental health crisis. Increased homelessness, rampant drug abuse, unyielding Covid-19 casualties, and elderly neighbors suffering from fear and loneliness took an unconscionable toll. My neighbor’s normally rambunctious five year-old daughter Madeline, petrified to leave home in fear of the virus, called to mind the untold stress children were experiencing. I recalled the simple yet noteworthy advice of my high school shop teacher. “In the worst of times, confront adversity head-on but remember to focus on the good. The good will be your guiding light.” As 2020 fell into further chaos, my wife Roxana and I decided those words would personify our “new normal.”

The first rays of hope to shine during the spring and summer of 2020 were weekends with Roxana. As newly weds proscribed a proper honeymoon, we challenged each other to think outside of the box for our coveted Saturday “date nights'' and “Sunday fun-days.” Camping in the Catskill Mountains, beach days on Long Island, hikes in Riverdale Hill and Van Cortlandt Park, bicycle Sundays along the Hudson River and Saturday night picnics on our building’s roof were our new norm. We often joked about our modest upbringings making us a perfect lockdown match. During our many rooftop picnics, we were fortunate to partake in the thunderous evening applause for our frontline healthcare heroes. Kingsbridge came to life as a coliseum of old as the ceremonious show of appreciation echoed off its canyons of buildings. Just as I will never forget reading “2020” in Matthew Rao’s email, I will equally remember the desperately needed show of unity every evening at 7pm. Despite the troubled days in the summer of 2020, the pandemic waned, my elderly neighbors soon returned to a resemblance of their daily routines and even young Madeline emerged her rambunctious self again now proudly displaying Disney stickers on her masks. Good days would outnumber the bad and Roxana and I employed the catchphrase “2021” when making future plans.

As the Covid-19 economy made its countless twists and turns, I received a phone call from my landlord in August 2020. A local liquor store experiencing a pandemic driven up tick in business wished to expand. The great news for my landlord in renting his vacant storefront meant I would have to quickly relocate a sizable amount of lighting materials intended for a future unplanned art installation. In moving these materials and reorganizing my studio and storage space, I again took the mental stock as I did the day I read Matthew’s email. Only eight months had come to pass yet I stood in my studio feeling years older. I reflected on my past lighting installations and the meditative influence of lighting in art. If only temporary, thoughts of the pandemic’s despair had departed. An inspired decision was made. I would continue to focus on the good and create a lighting design larger than life. It would embody the enduring human spirit in the face of adversity. As with all of my creative concepts in infancy, a napkin and pen were needed to get to work. “2021” was born.