Many workplaces are looking more and more like art galleries. New York's twin towers were a perfect example. The buildings and their surrounding plazas contained high-profile works by the likes of Joan Miro, Alexander Calder, and Auguste Rodin, as well as a sculpture memorializing the six people who died when the buildings were bombed in 1993. National Public Radio's Jon Kalish reported this week on a resolute quest by Saul Wenegrat, curator of the World Trade Center's vast art collection, to determine whether or not any of the commissioned art surrounding the towers -- in addition to the paintings, sculptures, and tapestries that filled the hallways, lobbies, and mezzanines of the two buildings -- had survived September 11 in any salvageable form. It appears much of this art was lost when the buildings fell, along with the life of one of the fourteen artists who had their studios in the buildings.

Clearly, to hear Wenegrat speak of it, art had been a tremendous part of what made these buildings more than mere architectural monoliths. They housed artistic expressions of our humanity, our vitality, our essence. Like the people who worked within, art offered the towers relief, diversity, color, stimulation. It appealed to people's passions and, in some forms, offered comfort, inspiration, and meaning. The Miro tapestry that hung from the mezzanine often drew crowds who stopped to marvel at its beauty and size. While any discussion of the loss of art might seem trivial in light of the staggering loss of human life, in many ways the destruction of these wondrous pieces is symbolic. They represent what was precious and irreplaceable about all that was lost that day.

The loss of this art offers an opportunity to contemplate the importance of art not only in the workplace but in our daily lives. We spoke recently with Jim McDonald, a former sculptor and photographer and now curator of the Safeco Corporation's art holdings, about what art really means in otherwise impersonal workplaces where sometimes thousands of people are grouped in cubicles. Seattle-based Safeco's nationwide collection of largely regional art enlivens the work environment for its 12,000 employees, but it doesn't end there. It also builds community.

The company sees its ceramics, its glassworks, its painting, its photography as critical links to both the artists and art lovers in the many communities where its branches are located. Of the 2,400 works of art Safeco has collected in 30 years, many were created by emerging or still largely unknown artists who brought a certain real-person "sincerity factor" to their work that McDonald always looks for. Safeco frequently loans and even donates art to local galleries, universities, and non-profit organizations. The collection is dynamic and "working" -- its modest displays in elevator lobbies one month, cafeterias the next -- freeing it from the rarefied air of most museums and making it accessible and transformative for real people. Put simply, it doesn't demand their undivided attention; it becomes part of their daily lives. Of his work at Safeco, Jim McDonald says, "What I do probably has the smallest budget in the company but one of the largest impacts. It sets the tone for a major part of people's lives."

Employees notice the artwork. They gather around it. They talk about it when pieces rotate or change. In a move more often reserved for public art, people from the neighborhood are drawn to the large fountain that Safeco commissioned for the plaza outside its headquarters. Reflected in the actions of people who gather there, it becomes clear the art lends extraordinary humanity, beauty, and refuge.

Few would argue that images are able to unify. The recent images of violence and disbelief formed a community out of a diverse and sometimes fractured world. In communicating our vulnerability, our fears, our needs, our emotions, images compel. Similarly, art has the power to unify us in a positive way in our workplaces, neighborhoods, and communities. Making art is as fundamental to all the world's cultures as eating and sleeping. Experiencing it with others in all areas of our lives is no less essential.

Wood Turner
Editor/Publisher, GoodThings, Inc.

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