This was the final group session of the year. Well I say group but it was in fact just three of us, and I think we were all there to explore the Hidden Door festival more than to write. Which was good really as there was no theme today, just go, explore and write if you feel like it.
It was hard to tear myself away from the terraces (and bar) and venture inside the building at first.
Maybe because it was a glorious sunny day and the views from Regent Road are quite astonishing.
But venture we did, in search of art.
The Old Royal High School is sprawling and unfortunately quite disjointed as an art space, with many vacant rooms.
Some were sparse, with just a stained glass window, a metal staircase to nowhere, piles of rags or coloured lights illuminating gagged dummies.
I can imagine the intent was to make a comment on our lives in 21st century Britain or the post pandemic world...but it passed me by a bit.
Some things were plain silly and although I appreciate the need for that, some of the exhibits had a sixth form project air to them.
Maybe I need to work on my sense of fun.
There were some to admire and enjoy however. A few gallery spaces were filled with an artist's work, innovative and interesting pieces that would have taken months to complete.
However, my favourite part of the Hidden Door Festival was the Pianodrome.
Part art installation, part event space, part recycling project, the Pianodrome is an amphitheatre in three parts made entirely of old pianos.
Each section has a working piano built into it so the seating can actually be used to create music. Although, unfortunately each instrument is tuned slightly differently so a duet or even a triplet (?) falls somewhere between odd and bad.
It is quite something to see and an egalitarian method for seating an audience, not that comfortable, though cushions were provided.
Installed in the Old Royal High School for the whole summer, there are daily concerts, sessions, workshops and many are free.
The Pianodrome
Tim waited, he was squatting on one of the kitchen chairs, Matt just looked at him.
"I know it's bonkers," Tim admitted but he was grinning. "Which is exactly why we should do it!"
Matt exhaled, had he been holding his breath all this time? "How will we pay for it?" He asked. Tim clapped his hands together and leapt down from his perch. He grabbed Matt's hands, glee pouring from him.
"We'll crowdfund, we'll get donations, volunteers, apply for grants."
Matt smiled at his friend, his bandmate. "Do you think we can?"
"I know we can." Tim declared triumphantly. "We will do this."
~~~
Pling, pling, pling. The top note of a Steinmann sang out. Built in the former GDR (German Democratic Republic) during the Cold War and donated along with dozens of other pianos, it was one of only a few to not have been given the Dr Frankenstein treatment.
The Steinmann was tuned and a pianist sat down and started to play.
Matt chatted to visitors to the festival, telling them about how he and his friend Tim had come up with the idea to build an amphitheatre entirely out of pianos.
"That is bonkers," one visitor said to Matt and he smiled. "How have you funded it?" She asked.
"This year we have a grant from creative Scotland. But mainly crowdfunding, donations and volunteers, lots of volunteers."
~~~
Matt and Tim stood behind the stack of pianos, cushions and blankets stuffed into every crevice.
Two pianists were riffing off each other, back and forth with a musical conversation that was just a little off with the different tones. But above them the stands were full and creaked lightly above their heads as people laughed and clapped.
They smiled at each other and Matt shook his head. Bonkers.
A mix of observation, fiction and my own chat with one of the founders, this piece was definitely the fevered dregs of six months of writing groups.
Summer beckons.
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