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Joel Meyerowitz was the only photographer with regular access to Ground Zero in the weeks and months following 9/11. As part of our Commemorative 9/11 issue, TIME commissioned Meyerowitz to venture back to Ground Zero and document the rapid changes at the site since late 2010. Meyerowitz was able to reflect on and even re-photograph many of the locations in his seminal work, Aftermath: World Trade Center Archive.

To see TIME’s 9/11 Commemorative issue visit Beyond 9/11:Portraits of Resilience.

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TIME presents a one-day exclusive presentation of the documentary TIME: VOICES OF 9/11. The film chronicles the stories of men and women whose lives changed forever on Sept. 11, 2001. These free screenings, which will be featured at Film Forum, commemorate the 10th anniversary of the devastating attacks.

For people at work on the top floors of the World Trade Center’s South Tower, it began as another beautiful September morning—until a plane struck the neighboring tower, and another plane struck their own. “I can see the U on the tail, and this plane is looking at me, eye level, eye contact. I can hear this revving sound as the plane got closer, I can hear this revving engine,” says Stanley Praimnath, one of only four survivors from above the 78th floor, as he recalls watching United Airlines flight 175 crash into his office. All four survivors recount their terrifying journey down Stairway A to safety, while on the ground, fire chief Joseph Pfeifer was sending firefighters up. Howard Lutnick, CEO of Cantor Fitzgerald, who’d taken the morning off to accompany his son to his first day of kindergarten, describes his rush to the scene—only to learn that none of his coworkers were able to escape, including his brother.

With the day’s end came a decade of challenges—the anthrax attacks, the rise of Islamophobia, the War on Terror and wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. From Tom Brokaw to Rudy Giuliani to Valerie Plame, the makers of ten years of tumultuous history remember what happened and why, and reflect on what it has meant for our nation and for the world. These leaders, first responders, widows and warriors are the voices of 9/11—they have shown us in ways large and small the unbounded resilience of the human spirit.

TIME: VOICES OF 9/11 will be screened at Film Forum, located at 209 West Houston Street, New York, NY 10014. For more information go to their website by clicking here.

Show Times (0ne day only): Sunday, September 11 •  1:00, 2:50, 4:40, 6:30, 8:10, 9:45

FREE ADMISSION

Tickets available at the box office on the day of show  on a first-come, first-served basis.

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Olivia Bee

Converse, 2009

At 11, Olivia Bolles started shooting when she was enrolled in a photography class by accident. Now 17, the precocious Portland-based photographer’s portraits of teen life have appeared in campaigns for Nike and Converse, as well as American Photo magazine. Bolles—who goes by Olivia Bee professionally—spoke to fellow teen, Style Rookie fashion blogger Tavi Gevinson, to talk about her images and inspirations.

TG: Who are your influences?

OB: For the most part, my muse is everyday life. It’s kind of like enjoying where you’re at and appreciating what’s going on around you. Photographically, Ryan McGinley is my favorite. [Also,] Annie Leibovitz, Nan Goldin.

TG: Something about your photos I really like is [that] they feel really intimate. You feel like you’re getting to learn about this person and her life, but at the same time, a lot of them capture more universal experiences about everyday life as a teenager. Do you think about whether a photo [will be] more diary-like or more about being a teenager in general?

OB: I think it’s both. My photos are my diary. But a lot of the things I photograph I’m sure happen to other people too. That specific moment happened in my life, but other moments like it happened in other people’s lives. So it’s a diary but it’s kind of relatable, and that’s what I want to be doing with my work.

TG: Yeah, and I think that’s one thing I like most about your work—that you’re independent and unedited.

OB: Yeah, it’s all honest, you know? That’s the important part for me, being honest about everything.

TG: It can be so mind-blowing seeing someone’s earlier work, or freshman year versus senior year. Do you ever feel embarrassed?

OB: (Laughs.) Totally. There are some things where I’m like, “Oh my god, what the hell was I thinking?” I look back at my old Flickr, and that’s the stuff that gets on Tumblr like every day. I’m like, “I hate this picture. Why are people hyping over this?” But then I think this is a fortunate thing. I hate it now, but it had to happen to get where I am now.

TG: How do you think that being in Portland affects they way you think about your work or what you end up photographing?

OB: I definitely think it affects me a lot, because in Portland it rains all the time. So everybody plays an instrument, and is in a band and working on a project. Being in a creative atmosphere 24/7 just encourages me to make something every day. And my friends are my muses. Being in Portland is awesome (laughs). It’s such a warm, friendly atmosphere, but it’s really real.

TG: Are there any movies that inspire you?

OB: I’m like every other girl, and I like The Virgin Suicides. There’s this movie Wonderwall. George Harrison did the soundtrack to it. It’s like a really bad 60’s movie, but it’s really beautiful visually. Anything ’60s or ’70s—The Partridge Family. But Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is also a gorgeous movie.

TG: Who are the other young photographers you like?

OB: I love El Hardwick, Francesca Allen … There’s so many people on Flickr, it’s ridiculous. Chrissie White, Maggie Lochtenberg. Oh, and Lauren Poor. And Mike Bailey Gates, obviously, Erica Segovia.

TG: It’s great that with the Internet, there has come this sense of creative independence. Having your stuff online—some people think of it as gimmicky, but in a way, it’s one of the most pure forms of having your work judged.

OB: Because so many people can see it, you know? It’s the only thing that makes sense in 2011. You can have shows or whatever, but that’s going to be seen by like 50 people, or a hundred or a thousand or whatever. But if you put your stuff on the Internet, millions of people can see it.

TG: Do you ever want to balance out this public content? Do you keep anything just for yourself, or just for a show?

OB: There are a lot of photos that are so intimate to me that I don’t want to show other people. Someday when I make a book, I’ll put in all these pictures that I’ve kept secret. And some of them are my favorite photos, but I just don’t think they should be public, because they’re so special to me.

TG: Can you fill in your readers on some of that commercial work you’ve done?

OB: I just finished shooting the Fiat 500 campaign in April. And then I did some Degrassi stuff for TeenNick—production stills. I shot Nike and Converse, Zeit Magazin, which is like the German New York Times. Yeah, that was cool. I got to shoot the cover for that. And then I did the FOAM International Photography Museum magazine; I just did their cover and a feature. I have a really big editorial coming up, but I obviously can’t talk about it in this. 2011 has been a good year to me.

TG: Do you find that when you’re with a crew of people, that your age seems to factor into how they work with you, or talk to you?

OB: When I’ve shot alongside other photographers, sometimes people really look down on me…Sometimes people will be like “What the hell is she doing on this set?” But when you get to know people, [they] kind of become my mentors. It all depends on how long I’ve worked with someone. But it’s still weird (laughs); I’m still 17.

TG: I could definitely see being shot by you as the foray a Dakota Fanning-type would take to being, like, a cool teenager. If you could put together a photo shoot that wasn’t just the things you see every day, what would your dream setting be?

OB: It’d be on the moon cause that’d be so amazing! But I don’t know who my models would be. I like shooting anybody, so the models wouldn’t really be specific. But if it was on, like, the moon—that would be killer.

TG: Where would you like to go with your skills?

OB: Honestly, I just don’t want to stop. I’ve been happy with the kind of commercial stuff I’m doing. I don’t want to stop making personal work. I’m just going to photograph my life all the time, because that’s what I really like doing. As I grow older, I’m sure my pictures will change, but that’s basically what I want to keep doing. I’d love to shoot AnnaSophia Robb; I think she’s just gorgeous. And I’d like to shoot Dakota Fanning or Kate Moss, or someone like that—that’d be fun. Or shoot bands. If I got to shoot The Strokes, I’d basically die.

Seventeen-year-old Olivia Bolles, who goes by the name Olivia Bee, lives in Portland, Oregon and has worked for clients including Nike, Converse, Fiat, and TeenNick, among others. She is represented by Candace Gelman. More of her work can be seen here.

Fifteen-year-old Tavi Gevinson lives in the Chicago, Illinois area and has run the fashion blog The Style Rookie since 2008.

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On the final day of a two-week embed, German photographer Johannes Eisele writes about his intimate, close-up images of the casualties of war. These photographs were taken during his first time in the war zone with the medevac helicopter teams in Kandahar, Afghanistan.

Johannes Eisele—AFP/Getty Images

An Afghan National Police serviceman, wounded from an improvised explosive device, is brought to a waiting ambulance after he was flown in by Medevac helicopter of 159th Brigade Task Force Thunder to the Kandahar hospital Role 3 on August 20, 2011.

I arrived in Afghanistan on Aug. 13, unsure of the story that awaited me and with no expectation or hopes of what I would be able to document there. For two weeks I was based at Forward Operating Base Pasab, Kandahar, where all the medevac missions start. After I saw the amount of pain and suffering that goes with these missions, I decided I wanted to convey these cruelties of war in my pictures.

Sometimes the radio would come on and wake us up. Just the words “medevac, medevac, medevac” would make us run to the helicopters, and we were on our way again. In the second week, the medevac picked up 34 patients—but every day was different. Sometimes there was one mission after another, and then the next day, there would be a single patient in need.

Within a war zone, the job of medevac soldiers is one of the most humane. Working in adverse conditions and often facing the most hopeless of situations, the soldiers continually show humanity and poise as they strive to do everything they can to help their patients.

Johannes Eisele—AFP/Getty Images

US soldiers gather near a destroyed vehicle and protect their faces from rotor wash, as their wounded comrades are airlifted by a Medevac helicopter from the 159th Brigade Task Force Thunder to Kandahar Hospital Role 3, on August 23, 2011.

There are two places where the medevacs bring their casualties, the first being Kandahar Hospital Role 3. This is where all U.S. soldiers go and where they bring local nationals with head injuries as well as children under the age of 13. The second place is Kandahar Hospital Hero, an Afghan-run unit where all the other Afghans are treated. But at Role 3, medics and doctors are always on hand to take care of patients, whereas Hospital Hero is badly equipped and where I got the feeling that many of the staff had given up hope to help, even as new patients arrived.

I was surprised by the number of wounded civilians the medevac picked up in a matter of weeks, most of them injured by an improvised explosive devise (IED). The exceptions were two Afghan children who had been shot in the stomach and one young man who was shot in the leg. But somehow, none of them seemed to cry.

There were also the U.S. casualties, many of whom I documented close up. One soldier was taken from a U.S. vehicle, destroyed by an IED, into a packed helicopter (two medics, two pilots, one crew chief, two other wounded soldiers and me). The soldier’s legs were all badly wounded. While two were asking for water, the third put his hands together as if in prayer.

Johannes Eisele—AFP/Getty Images

Two Afghan soldiers, shot in their legs by suspected insurgents, lie in a medevac helicopter of 159th Brigade Task Force Thunder during a flight to a hospital in Kandahar on August 17, 2011.

It can be a really strange feeling, having a badly wounded person covered with blood and dust carried right in front of you. Considering that I’m writing this on the last day of my embed, I find it hard to express these thoughts. I’m still processing them myself.

Johannes Eisele began as a photojournalist at the age of 19. He worked for a local newspaper and then for German news wire agencies ddp and dpa. Four years ago he joined Reuters, and for the past 18 months he has been a staff photographer with Agence France-Presse (AFP). He covered the Athens Olympics in 2004, the 2006 World Cup and the G8 Summit riots in Heiligendamm. Eisele is based in Berlin.

To visit TIME’s Beyond 9/11: A Portrait of Resilience, a project that chronicles 9/11 and its aftermath, click here.

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On September 11, 2001, photography editors across the world, overcome with a deluge of devastating imagery, faced the daunting task of selecting photos that would go on to define a catastrophe like no other. A decade later, TIME asked a wide variety of the industry’s leading photo editors, photographers, authors, educators, and bloggers to tell us which image moved them most—and why.

Some couldn’t choose one single image. Vin Alabiso, head of photography at the Associated Press on September 11, 2001, said, “Of the thousands of images that were captured, I thought only a handful would truly resonate with me. I was wrong. As a document of a day filled with horror and heroism, the collective work of so many professionals and amateurs leaves its own indelible mark on our memory.”

Holly Hughes, editor of Photo District News, said she was moved most by the photographs of the missing people that blanketed the city in the days after 9/11. “The images that can still move me to tears are the snapshots of happy, smiling people looking out from the homemade missing posters that were taped to signposts and doorways and mailboxes,” she said. “How those posters were made, the state of mind of the people who stood at Xerox machines to make copies, it’s too painful to contemplate. Those flyers stayed up around the city for weeks, through wind and rain, and became entwined with the sorrow and anxiety we carried with us day after day.”

Alabiso added, “A decade later, I could only wish that the most memorable photo of September 11, 2001, would not have been memorable at all…simply two towers silhouetted against a clear azure-blue sky.”

To visit TIME’s Beyond 9/11: A Portrait of Resilience, a project that chronicles 9/11 and its aftermath, click here.

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On the afternoon of September 11, Pittsburgh-based photographer Scott Goldsmith was one of first journalists allowed to view the crash site of United Flight 93, which had been 20 min. away from its target, Washington D.C., when passengers and crew fought the terrorists, bringing the plane on a field near the small farming town of Shanksville, Pa. “The fire had been so severe there was no aircraft left,” says Goldsmith, describing the  crash site as it looked just hours after impact. “By the time we got there, there wasn’t even any smoke. Just eight or nine men in white protective suits moving around a crater, with a line of trees behind them, burnt black.”

Goldsmith continued working until Governor Tom Ridge’s press conference at sunset, returning home in time to catch Federal Express and dispatch the film to US News & World Report.

But the sense of what had happened at Shanksville lingered. As the media focused on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, “I felt Shanksville was forgotten,” says Goldsmith.

So he kept returning to document the town: the tourists, the government officials, the FBI and other technicians conducting the investigation. He’s made the trip about twice a year, for ten years, getting to know many of Shanksville’s 250 residents. “The town just grew and grew on me. And working there helped me deal with the event,” says Goldsmith, who is turning the project into a book. “Shanksville is something meaningful to me. And those sort of stories are far and few between when you’re trying to make a living in this business.”

Goldsmith, who has covered everything from the campaign trail to shale drilling, says this was the first story he immersed himself in at such length. As he pursued it, his budding relationships with the locals allowed him to meet a man who witnessed the plane smashing into the earth, and hear how he wasn’t able to leave his house for two weeks. He got to see how the scene continued to unfold, “people would come up to me with a handful of shredded cloth that looked like it may have been plane seats,” says Goldsmith “and say, ‘look what I found in my field.’” And he was let into areas that were supposed to be off-limits. “Wally Miller, who owns a funeral parlor, and helped a lot of the families of the victims, took me back behind police lines,” says Goldsmith, “and let me photograph trees near the site.”

For the most part, Goldsmith has had the story to himself. “It’s not like Ground Zero where no matter what time of day you go,” says Goldsmith, “someone is always there.”

That may soon change, as the National Park Service works on a memorial, with the first phase of construction completed on the 10th anniversary. Incorporating groves of trees, and a 93 ft. tower with 40 wind chimes, the park is designed to represent the passengers and crew who, as Elizabeth Kemmerer, whose mother was on board, said to the 9/11 Commission, “fought a battle at 35,000 ft., in an aisle no wider than 3 ft.”

As work on the park goes on, the thousands of people who visit the area over the last 10 years have set up their own tributes—writing messages of gratitude on guard rails, and leaving flags, jewelry, even Purple Hearts near the site. They were there when Goldsmith returned to gauge reaction to the killing of Osama bin Laden. There weren’t jubilant celebrations like the one’s that erupted in Washington and New York. Rather there was a muted sense of relief. “They don’t want to be in the limelight,” says Goldsmith. “That’s why they chose to live there. But all of a sudden, they became part of our history.”

To see more of Goldsmith’s work, click here.

To visit TIME’s Beyond 9/11: A Portrait of Resilience, a project that chronicles 9/11 and its aftermath, click here.

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