During my first shift as a Gallery Assistant at the Pulitzer, I rotated into the Entrance Gallery and was confronted by Garbage Wall.

After spending the last month and a half collecting this garbage from around St. Louis, I stood there and realized how little time I had spent with the finished piece.

My eyes scanned over the objects in the wall, and I recognized all of them! At the sight of each piece of garbage, I was taken back to a day in the collection process. I spotted the section of a brick wall that students at Wash U found during our neighborhood clean-up, caution tape that was left in a donation box in the art room at Metro High School, and shoes collected from a local thrift store’s dumpster. I remembered touching each object (with gloves of course) as I moved it from a school, curb, or dumpster, into my truck bed, and finally into the workshop where Garbage Wall was constructed. I felt lucky to have had this experience that connected me to the piece in a very unique and exciting way.

As I stood in my GA position, I discovered how almost every visitor also developed a personal connection with the Wall. Visitors spent a lot of time trying to discern what each object was and making connections between the objects in the wall and those they own or those they have thrown away. A group of three women spent at least five minutes walking around the piece pointing out objects and telling stories. One of the women told her two friends how she used to have a pair of diving fins but lent them to her grandson who was going snorkeling while on vacation with his girlfriend. Pointing to a sneaker with The Misfits skeleton printed on it, a young woman told her mom that she used to have that exact pair of shoes. One man pointed at a computer keyboard and swore it was just like one he had at home. Another visitor stood in front of Garbage Wall and exclaimed, “Looks like you guys went through my trash. This all looks like my garbage!”

Upon hearing her observation, my mind fresh with memories of a month spent traveling around St. Louis collecting garbage, I thought to myself, “It just might be.”