![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9bQNrIg-ATGYfo2HzYbjEBEShzbae-A0JDMB3wfkk_z3CmHiYu-q1aTgsiT5p3QZKIX8YHYEWQHma-iXdL_4R5jauV6v2U4VQqKX-o8WVcCiI6Dh4-IpmlPmfDvNgkJu5RLhpLdhVlbGE/s400/floodwall.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSca7oU0RihHaZjq5xWgOeXq2UL1Ue4LjHJFNw9b4Xne2t6FBS3tJfM-vmJQ0co4n_nj7820WnfmyyF2qaq4NtCAtTvAxWO7vQngSe08-AhlG8a4YZ-cPyt8nV3iTnB1l87SH7F7eJ0Xa1/s400/floodwall2.jpg)
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What I was left longing for was contents - where is the underwear, the hidden pistol, the love letters, the tanlgle of charger cables from long discarded cell-phones that occupies all of our dresser drawers? At first I considered it was an artistic failing of the piece until the truth struck me. All that content is gone, like the people that put it those drawers. There were a few with some notable inhabitants, like the ornate curved tiny drawer holding a Catholic Saint card and a lock of hair, but these were the exception. No matter; like all successful conceptual pieces, the empty spaces speak the loudest.
Just like the boarded-up windows and sea of blue tarps I see everytime I go down to New Orleans, valiant struggling to gain its former glory while I try to suppress the nagging uncertainty I have for its success, this exhibit is tender, wounded heavy reality.
Just like the boarded-up windows and sea of blue tarps I see everytime I go down to New Orleans, valiant struggling to gain its former glory while I try to suppress the nagging uncertainty I have for its success, this exhibit is tender, wounded heavy reality.
Alex V. Cook, all of us at Floodwall thank you: Jana Napoli. Tatiana Clay, Rondell Crier, Rontherin Ratliff & David Lackey.
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