Memory. It is here we search for certain truths upon which we structure an understanding of who we are. It represents a personal database of events and experiences indelibly linking our psyche to the society in which we live. But somewhere in this dynamic we must account for mountains of seemingly important information, bombarding us in a surgical blitzkrieg that is the media; a media generating myth, archiving uncontrollably into memory. It is within this cataclysm where Scarbrough's work so often resides.

Forgotten is an exhibition about the tragic coincidence of two events in New York City, both ripe with their own subset of unique coincidences. This complex labyrinth of information was available to the audience through an interactive Flash based interface allowing the audience to access a 25 minute video, images, and other supporting contextual content. Together with an eerie presentation of prints the installation offered up a narrative pushed aside in the wake of one of the world's most iconic catastrophes.

Coincidence is an interesting thing, most of the time going unnoticed. It may be as benign as finding yourself behind the same car in the same stretch of traffic at the same time of day on sequential mornings. Or, it could be as consequential as Hurricane Katrina sweeping across the Gulf Coast of the United States to the day of Israel removing its last settlers from an area of the Gaza Strip under heavy pressure from the Bush Administration (some Fundamentalist Christians and Jews believe this to be proof of God's wrath upon any nation that crosses his chosen people as prophesied in Genesis 12:3. *).

You cannot seek coincidences you can only stumble upon on them. They suddenly appear and just as soon are gone. We find ourselves in the right place at the right time, see what we see, pause for a moment and move on with our day. But sometimes, just once in a great while, they are so monumental that books are written, stories are told, as we stand in awe as fate would have its way.

This is the tragic story of nine individuals left behind in the wake of September 11, 2001, a story of the homeless who snuck into the bellies of two outmoded gas towers during the night in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, New York, marked for explosive demolition, ironically in the early morning hours of 9/11, before. By the time the first plane hit the World Trade Center, these people were tossed into station libraries of Digi-Beta tape, archived forever in the television chaos that followed. William Scarbrough watched both events in real time and on T.V.