I've had the same ol' point-and-shoot camera for nigh on forever, so whenever I edit photos for my blog, it's less to look "bloggy" and more to hide the fact that my photo quality just isn't there. (This is why I run most of my photos through the 1960s filter in Picasa. Because it's really not that far off from reality. :P) Yes, this is DSLR envy, rearing its ugly head.
My camera is especially problematic at night, which was unfortunate when we ventured over to the Pentagon Memorial this weekend with some friends from out of town. My photos don't do it justice. The memorial has been on my list of things to see since it opened in 2008 and I was excited when our guests were up for it as well. It's a little off the beaten track - i.e. not on the Mall - and a little awkward to get to - if you drive, you have to walk a half mile under 395 from your car - but it is SO WORTH IT.
The two acre memorial is immediately adjacent to the face of the Pentagon hit on September 11. Obviously, the Pentagon has long since been long repaired, but it's looming and overwhelming on a good day. At the memorial, with flights from Reagan taking off and landing in the background, it's ominous. It is impossible to forget that it wasn't that long ago.
The gravel field contains 184 uplit, steel benches - one for each victim in the building or on the plane - arranged by age, from 3 to 71. A concrete wall, rising from a purposeful three to 71 inches, encircles the memorial on one side. The benches of those who died in the building face the Pentagon; on the plane, the sky. (Or Route 27, but whatev. It's a subtle, but I think meaningful, demarcation.)
We went around 8:30 on Friday, the night before the supermoon, and the place was straight up eerie. Each bench cantilevers over a small running pool that reflects the light with a green glow, which makes it feel like you're walking through both a garden and a cemetery - an odd juxtaposition. In some ways, it reminded me of the Vietnam Memorial or the Korean War Veterans Memorial - more sobering at night, when the contrast of light and dark is so much stronger. I think much of the effect would be lost during the day, when traffic is louder and you can see how overwhelmingly grey the place is. (Yes, they've planted some nice trees, but there's only so much you can do to two acres of gravel, concrete, and steel.)
Our friends have three kids. Their oldest is almost six. It was a bit strange for me to realize that a whole generation of kids who can't remember is already growing up. (Was I in high school that long ago?!) Their little girl asked some questions, but I think the memorial and what it stood for scared her more than anything. (I'm sorry, A. Good luck getting her on a plane now!) Soon after she discovered one of the benches was for a girl scarcely older than her little brother, she announced that it was "time for us to go."
I read some architectural criticisms of the memorial after the fact (*nerd*, I know) and one of them pointed out that the memorial seems almost "nihilistic" in a way, that there is no resolution, there is no understanding of what happened. And unfortunately, I would have to agree. The memorial is unsettling enough to provoke you to remembrance, peaceful enough to provide a sense of calm acceptance, but - reflective of the current state of affairs - there is no meaning, solution, or end to the problem. This is doubly apparent as you exit past the enormous road block and heavily tinted guard station. Where do we go from here?
Ironically, in our case, it was back to the Pentagon City Mall across the street, one of only two places you can park for the Memorial. So ridiculously American it hurts... Regardless, the memorial is impressive. I think it is probably one of my favorite ones.
Have you been to the Pentagon Memorial? What did you think? What about the 9/11 Memorial in New York? I'd love to go there as well.
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