Some things were just not meant to happen

1 October, 2012 Occupy Wall Street, Zuccotti Park, NYC

In two separate instances this week all of the art that was to be exhibited on the 21st at Munch Gallery has been lost or stolen. I had entrusted the box to the care of a friend who had left it with his apartment building front office, folded and wrapped. In breaking the news to me of its loss he had sent a text to my phone asking for an early morning meeting at Union Square. Upon my arrival his first words to me were, "So how do you feel about the bad news?" "What bad news?", I asked. "The news that your box was thrown out by my building staff", he responded.

I took a minute and went to sit down on the granite steps to the park. Rushing through my head were all the possible ramifications of this event - without the box, does any of the work at all make sense in a gallery setting? How was it that I could save this piece from the riot police during the Zuccotti Park raid in November of last year, only to lose it to sheer negligence in a Gramercy Park apartment building? Why wasn't the package marked? Why didn't building staff know of its importance? WTF? I was furious with the friend and dumbfounded by his total lack of responsibility in the matter.

Answers to too many questions would lay pending the next day events. A piece of history was gone. And too many other opportunities with it.

The next day I spent the better part of the day on the computer doing general office work and trying to make a plan B for the gallery show. It wouldn't matter.

I had left my mobile studio with the Occupiers at Union Square, a place where it had been safe and watched over since our arrival in March of this year. Apparently, a rain had fallen in the early evening and Occupiers had packed up and moved their tables to dry shelter. My mobile studio, containing the remainder of the artwork was left behind and not to be found when I returned to the park. It remains lost along with the original box and may be decorating a city landfill somewhere. Nicely I hope.

This week also another friend reminded me of the myth of Sisyphus, the mythological Greek character who was doomed to pushing a boulder uphill only to see it roll back down again, over and over and over again. "The struggle itself ... Is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus as happy", wrote Albert Camus. These past 10 months with Occupy and 4 different boxes, all lost to one end or another, compares to the myth of Sisyphus. Maybe it's time to think truly out of my box and find a more productive way to spend my time.