When Right is Wrong...

Had a client that wanted an old workbench for a series of photos. I built one and used my dad's and grandpa's old tools. Before I took the set down, I thought I would do an homage to them both. It's an exercise in spacial relationships. You group items together for a visually pleasing or aesthetic value. It wasn't until I was well into it that I realized my father's workbench never looked "aesthetic." In fact, I remembered it was the last time he was really angry with me. It was the last year we farmed together before he got too ill. His workbench was piled two feet high with "junk" and I thought I would do him a favor by cleaning it up. He was furious. He knew exactly where everything was and I screwed it up. He didn't talk to me for days.

So here's to you Dad. An exercise in chaos, "disorderly order." Hard thing for a quasi-perfectionist to do. I hope he is looking down and smiling.

So what's the moral of the story? Dad's always right? Don't mess with other peoples stuff? Everyone has their own way of doing things? In the bigger picture, I think it's difficult to know when doing the right thing is wrong. It's even harder to recognize. Hardest yet, to recognize and admit you are wrong. One of my father's sayings was "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." It took me awhile to figure that one out...