A box of 1,000 rounds of ammunition is accidentally delivered to my address in Seattle. My first thought is, "I'm going to use these to make art."
My daughter Erin has just returned from the Peace Corps and is staying with me while we prepare for a road trip to Arizona. She suggests that it might not be safe for live ammunition to be rattling around in the trunk for 1600 miles, so we call the Sheriff. A cop arrives and takes the bullets away. She tells me she and her colleagues will probably use them for target practice.
But the bullet art idea has stuck. Erin and I visit a local firing range and they agree to give us all the empty casings we can carry. We bring home 1,200 casings and several cans of spray paint.