When we see a layer a fresh concrete poured into a section of the sidewalk, we rush to write our name or inscribe some sort of design into it, knowing that it will be permanently recorded. We relish in the thought that someone in the near or far future, walking their dog, will stop and observe our epigraph, and acknowledge our presence, even for a mere second. To want to be remembered is to be human. It is also marketable— a democratic plaque now equates the life of a dog owner who frequented a dog park with a firefighter who gave their life during the September 11 attacks. This is not to say that one’s life is worth more than the other, however, it does make one question what separates the rudimentary concrete inscription from the state funded memorial.
Reminds Me of That Tragedy is an investigation of memorials in Bergen County, New Jersey. Writing about the state, John Brooks once commented on its preference for “mild nomenclature” — a claim that resonates in the region’s vernacular memorial architecture. Most of them consist of a bronze plaque placed on a boulder. This standardized approach seems completely counter-intuitive to the idea of a memorial, favoring convenience over thoughtful, creative expression within public space. I contrast the more serious, typological documentation of the memorials with a more engaged approach through internet posts and video performances. Passaic may not have replaced Rome as the “eternal city”, as Robert Smithson facetiously questioned, but with their abundance of memorials, New Jersey towns like Passaic are certainly trying.