Elena del Rivero

 As John Yau remarks in his catalog entry for La Conservera, 2010,  “Flying Letters”

..Of all the works produced by artists and novelists in response to 911, Del Rivero’s is to my mind the most poignant. For on the most basic level, [Swi:t] Home: A Chant, 2001-2006 reminds us that this tragedy will affect generations to come…

 A Chant is a site-specific installation representing a graphic documentation of how one artist’s life and art fused in the aftermath of the attack on the World Trade Center. It is a continuation of a previous project [Swi:t] Home.

On September 11th, 2001, the studio-home that I shared with my husband located at 125 Cedar Street experienced extreme damage due to the attack and collapse of the World Trade Center. This place later became known as Ground Zero.

 3,136 pieces of paper were salvaged from the floors of my studio-home. These papers flew in my windows from the offices of corporations located across the street in the World Trade Center. I collected each of the papers, cleaned them, numbered them and photographed them. Proper names found in these fragments of paper were burned and they were photographed once again. All of them were finally stitched together with silk and pearls- my own working materials, that were also found scattered and buried in the dust - to five rolls of tarlatan. The work was accomplished over a period of five years with the help of my assistants.

 The cleaning process started when Julie Dermansky, a friend and a photographer, allowed me to travel Upstate NY in July 2002 and stay at her farm where she had erected a tent. There I was able, in isolation, to sift through dust and debris and clean the papers.

 The full Archive of Dust was presented for the first time in November 2019 at Naves Matadero, Madrid, curated by Mateo Feijoo. This archive includes, CHANT and over 80 hours of video I was able to shoot during six months after 9/11 (February to August 2002). I was able to accomplish this work with a permit from the police allowing me access to my destroyed studio-home in Ground Zero. I shot what I was seeing from my windows. The workers sifting through the debris to find human remains and the movements of cranes helping in their exhaustive daily shifts. I also shot the inside of my studio-home while I was trying to rescue my work and personal belongings. I captured myself performing simple acts like smoking or drinking, out of boredom, while working long hours to document the repetitive daily routines around me.

 August 3rd, 2002, was the last day I was allowed into the building after the police had informed me it was going to undergo renovation and decontamination. That very day, I filmed myself nude, making my final descent down the stairs before leaving.