Density, among many other methods, can be employed to measure an exhibition. How many reactions are piqued by that one visit to the museum or studio? How many issues were raised? Did the subject punch or caress? Were the medium and materials challenged? Matters of display can add or subtract - did the presentation work with or against the art? Considering these myriad factors, Dan Burkholder's exhibition "The Color of Loss" at Artisan Works is thick with considerations. Challenges abound in the craft and intent of the work, and in the experiencing of such sedate artworks in a somewhat incongruous environment.

On view are more than 30 of Burkholder's photographs of New Orleans interiors ravaged by the floods that followed Hurricane Katrina. But these are no ordinary photographs: Burkholder, a well known early adopter of digital photography, employed a technique known as High Dynamic Range (HDR) to document Katrina's aftermath. HDR images combine multiple exposures using software, and the resulting images reveal maximum detail in all areas of the scene, creating an unnatural, painterly glow.

The images depict a contemporary Pompeii, all frozen moments of panicked flight or acceptance of total destruction. In "Open Kitchen Door," common items - table, chairs, microwave oven - exist among a frightening landscape of moldering devastation. Wallpaper peels and blisters from the walls, fallen plaster and paint litter the floor. From a door left ajar, gentle, misty light streams in where water once pushed through. The scene's gut-wrenching emptiness is punctuated by a water-logged plastic garment bag, shriveled and clinging to its contents. The question is unavoidable: what became of the body that once filled those clothes?

Look upon "Framed Print and Bookcase" long enough and you'll realize the story of the flood, hidden in plain sight. Guide your eyes from floor to ceiling, noting the unblemished books and board games near the top while the lower volumes are irrevocably soaked and stained. Seeing this, we can roughly determine the height of the floodwaters, realizing that they partially - but not totally - obscured the framed print alluded to in the title: an antique etching of old New Orleans as seen from above, hanging to the left of the shelves. This print nearly transcends metaphor to become the city itself; almost swept away completely, it tenaciously holds. It will remain, endure, and rise again.

Rendered in paint on canvas, seahorses, a mermaid, and other aquatic life glide ironically through the frame of "Elementary School Mural." The title tells the tale again in "Flood Water in Food Processor." Foul brown water fills the appliance while mold overtakes the surrounding walls and countertops. Still more of the flood lingers in "Fish Tank," now filled with a nauseous, chartreuse liquid. The water in these images is an obvious visual trope, but these manageable, harmless pockets of formerly death-dealing fluid reinforce the realization that this didn't have to happen.

Burkholder's images occupy the length of an extended hallway at Artisan Works, and while the presentation is competent, it is an odd pairing. These somber dramas hang quietly among the cacophony of piped-in classical music, the chatter of a looped film, whining saw blades, and other noises that echo throughout the massive building. Most disappointing was the large, wheeled popcorn machine that entirely obscured two photographs during my visit. Artisan Works brings to mind a cultured but still frenetic fraternity house, and that's great; not all art needs to be displayed in an antiseptic white cube. But work like this would benefit from a more staid environment where viewers can engage in quiet contemplation and deeper visual exploration of these uncanny images.

Dispensing with the HDR method and considering only Burkholder's acumen as a photographer (not a technician or fine printer), these are well-considered compositions of deeply evocative metaphorical intensity. Nearly all of the images re-create the perspective of standing in a room and surveying the damage from a natural, eye-level viewpoint. While all photographs naturally freeze time, the historical and societal weight of the subject matter intensifies the feeling of forever, as if your feet could not move from that spot if they tried.

By using the High Dynamic Range technique, Burkholder ran the risk of craft trumping message. And while those inclined to end their inquiry at the surface of the print may think this, the accentuated colors and details become irrelevant when you fully consider the message. I spent as much time looking beyond the digital wizardry to absorb the unvarnished scene as I did admiring the hyper real details revealed by the HDR process.

"If I didn't feel the approach matched the subject matter and the conditions perfectly, I would have photographed another way, or not at all," writes Burkholder in his book's introduction. Well put. The process of this work is intriguing, but the art of these photos is in no way their painterly style. It is their combination of careful looking and stunning revelation. Admire the way the images were made, but look beyond the technique to see the actual substance.

The Color of Loss

By Dan Burkholder

Through March 1

Artisan Works, 565 Blossom Rd.

Friday-Saturday 11 a.m.-6 p.m.; Sunday noon-5 p.m.

$8-$12 | 288-7170 | artisanworks.net