At first sight, this close up image of a dustbin lid could be confusing in the context of an assignment on relationships between people. Like the telephone it came new with the house, the scratches and scuff marks drawn in the accumulated dirt and algae of the lid were made by my dadís hands; the same hands that had crafted fine castings and had held mine as a child. Inanimate objects and images however abstract often trigger memories and shared experiences. I find these marks aesthetically pleasing in much the same way that the accidental patterns made by the spills of molten bronze on the foundry floor touched something in dad. He would have understood that.
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