The Blankest of Canvases, Part 2
Fearne and David manning the fort
When I returned to the showroom after a 6 week spell in America the Adopt a Piano scheme had become a more vibey place. Fearne had appeared to play her mesmeric music at the front of the showroom while her dad David invited people in. Jane had found us funding enabling Joel Sanderson and Ben Treuhaft to run fixing and tuning workshops; they imparted revelatory knowledge to us as to which pianos could be saved and which ones were “scrappers”. In June Tom Binns gave a pivotal workshop on how he runs Glasgow Piano City (https://www.glasgowpianocity.org) transforming our fledgling, ad-hoc scheme into a functioning enterprise focused on upgrading pianos before they go back into the wild. More volunteers arrived to help run the project; Alison, Alma, Artem, Davey, Fionn, Georges, Jonny, Kayhan, Laura, Louise, Mirra, Pip and more all helped lift the project off the ground.
A piano saved by the intervention of Louise and Alison
By the end of September we were in full flight and heading for the horizon, that’s when we were given the surprise news that we had one month to vacate the space as it was finally being redeveloped. After setting up and building the project, seeing everyone’s hard work paying off it was difficult to contemplate packing up and trying to start again somewhere else. The windowless, blank void of Debenhams had become a dear home to me; not just because of the showroom days, but all the concerts, piano sharings, magic shows, film screenings, talks and random encounters that had happened there. Furthermore it was also the place where I had found my feet at the Pianodrome, where I had learnt so much and made many friends.
Fionn and me investigating a “bird cage” action
We had just hit the milestone of 100 pianos adopted since opening in January. Our event celebrating this landmark became our closing event for our time at Ocean Terminal. Shona and I worked on a display telling the story of our time there. We had a volunteer showcase in the Pianodrome where Fearne, Louise, Georges and Artem played beautifully, There was a spirited rendition of The Trout Quartet by Tim, Joey, Meg and Chris and a heart warming Piano Sharing to finish.
Shona working on the display, shoppers browsing
We finally moved the last pianos out of Ocean Terminal in January 2024. The electricity had been shut off so we dismantled the Pianodrome in the dusty gloom and coerced the piano cube sculpture down the stationary escalator on a makeshift sledge. Excavators flashed past in the background as we extracted our belongings just in time. As I left what had been the showroom one last time I closed the fire exit door onto the loading bay outside. There was a knack to it that I’d honed through endless practice, giving each half door enough momentum to click into place together, locking me out once and for all.
Everything must go: Tim and Matt dismantling the piano cube before sliding it down the escalator
Recently I wandered over to see the space we once occupied. One year on nothing remains but a pile of rubble and splinters. This time luxury apartments will fill the void for a time. I have to look elsewhere for remnants of our presence there; I have many photos and videos if ever I want to travel back in time. In one video I’m walking through the showroom from the bathrooms at the back. Pianos line the corridor with a couple of punters trying them out, heading to the right we can see the tuning and fixing station; someone is working on a piano on the outer reaches of our orbit. Walking past the sheet music library into the Pianodrome amphitheatre a group of teens are hanging out. Then I follow a family out past the grand piano planters to the front entrance where Georges is playing to his friends and the public at large.
This video shows what can happen when a group of people are allowed to inhabit a space for a while. Given a purpose, community can spring up in the most sterile of environments.
One year on, Adopt a Piano has successfully been transplanted to our headquarters in Granton. Now a couple of mannikins haunt our warehouse reminding us of the time we materialised in an abandoned department store. It’s immensely gratifying that the community which grew there has moved with us too.
Spooky yet reassuring, a momento from our year in O.T
