With the images from the aftermath of Katrina embedded into my mind, I glued together miniature houses of bass wood and seaweed. The papier-mâché walls and rooftops are made with bay water (from my hometown of Sayville, NY) and tissue paper. The interior spaces are open - obviously empty. Family photos and text from poems about my father activate the surfaces of these tiny dwellings. The houses reminded me of Mardi Gras throws – trinkets tossed from floats into the crowds of parade spectators. The success of carnival is measured by how much trash is left in the streets, and metaphorically these destroyed houses showed the “success” of the hurricane. These pieces are the broken houses with all their stories, collected in the gutters, waiting to be swept away. The flimsiness of these "throws" reiterates the temporality of our architectural and societal structures.