I remember looking at the thousands of flimsy shacks and hovels lining Kathmandu's dusty slums and the sturdier, but still precarious, multi-tiered family homes, and the cheaply-built apartment blocks and ornate temples that collectively give the city its colorful distinctive appearance. We all understood and feared what a big earthquake would surely do there.
Apart from the geographic information and aesthetic pleasure offered by this exhibition, one can't help taking a socio-political stance. In her vision statement, Davis states that "the project contributes to dialogue about the international art trade...[it] provides a forum for acknowledging losses of Nepal's deities and exchanges ideas on preserving what remains."
Bim arrived at the Chabad House last year, naked but for a plastic bag that he used for some cover. One of hundreds of children exploited for profit on Kathmandu's dangerous streets, he fixed his eyes on a rabbinical student, and asked for help. He wouldn't leave until the student brought him back to Chabad.