Suzanne Firstenberg

A little girl tugs at the hem of her mother’s dress. “Mommy,” she says, “there are too many flags. Too many.”

Of course, this child could not have known each flag in the platinum sea represented an American who had died from COVID-19. But she still knew there were too many.

Suzanne Firstenberg, the creator of the stunning art installation, titled In America: How Could This Happen..., sympathizes with the girl.

“After 25 years in hospice volunteering, if there’s one thing I understand, it’s the value of every life.”

Firstenberg says she created the installation to show the magnitude of the loss. But that’s not the only reason.

“Words are falling on unlistening ears and unreading eyes [right now]. You can’t make social change that way.”

For Firstenberg, art is often the only effective way to get a point across, especially during tumultuous times.

“We’re at a real tipping point here, as far as our culture goes. [...] There’s such animosity and there’s such division, and words obviously haven’t worked. So the arts have to step in.”

And step in, she has.

Along with In America, Firstenberg has created many artworks demanding social change. One such installation, part of her Empty Fix series, explores the meaning of addiction.

Aptly titled “Addict,” the installation depicts several different addictions, from shopping and food to video games, porn, and more.

The most impactful part was the cameras set up around the installation, showing the audience a first-person view of themselves and suggesting, as Firstenberg puts it, that they are addicts, too.

Perhaps the best way to leave a lasting impression on an audience is by making them part of the piece, as Firstenberg demonstrated with “Addict.” Personal connection is certainly the reason In America was so effective.

In fact, Firstenberg says de-installing the project was exceptionally difficult.

“The first day of de-installation, an elderly man came with tears in his eyes and [said] he wanted to plant a flag.”

It turns out the man’s wife had just died.

“And Reyna,” Suzanne sighs, addressing me through the phone, “I couldn’t say no. Like, how could I tell him ‘no?’ So, his was the last flag that went in.”

Of course, Firstenberg expected a project surrounding death to be emotional. However, there was one aspect of In America she did not anticipate.

“I went into this [...] knowing that people would visit it and bring their anger, and knowing that people would visit it and bring their grief. That was what it was for. What I did not know was that they would come and they would bring their appreciation.”

In a world that often feels full of animosity, thankfulness can be a welcome surprise.

I wonder: what would happen if we all took a moment to breathe, appreciate the work of others, and speak using the language of art?

Maybe, if we did, no more little girls would have to trail their mothers through graveyards.

Reyna Berry