A collection of piano solos by Dallas Gray. From the memories of Flinton.
Each room holds a memory. Rooms carry the events that took place within them through time. Take your own time to visit each room in Flinton. Inhabit the spaces one by one.
These rooms captivated me. Created by the inhabitants. Tainted by events and time. Used up and left behind. Still waiting.
You can pass by a room and feel it's presence. You can only ever glimpse the interior. Look past its shadows or directly into the dark. Objects within catch your eye. The stillness, dust and coloured light reflect the shapes, fill the spaces between.
Cold concrete. Soft flowers grow from the cracks. The drop. The cold beneath. Frosty damp mornings and blazing hot sunny days.
Soft colours on the walls frame the fireplace. Over sized robe, pot, dresser with its mirrors set in place. Never a fire in the hearth. Bay windows with delicate stained glass. The high window above the mantel. Cracks. Peeling.
The original idea is lost here. Maybe the bricklayer wanted this room to be used to greet someone of local importance. A clergyman or a Freemason. It didn't matter. There are no shadows here. A piano, a lost harp, the table from Aden with golden tassels. The vase from Pisa. Faded wallhanging with camels that smells like dust.
Homage to Ketelby, Yvonne's Room.
The maid moved in here and there were stories of stolen pyjamas and perfume. A small fire. Iron bed. Coming home.
Cold in the Centre.
Just a small gap where you can see the emptiness within. Signs of a fight. Blank window. So much silence. The Tone Row.
The Back Room.
Closed off from the front with a heavy door. Beyond the door is always the focal point. What is out there in the darkness? Look away to the leadlight windows out to the garden. Smoking in the corner. Blackwood. Fireplace filled in to accommodate the 70s gas heater. Worn carpet from pacing to the kitchen and back. That door behind the couch goes nowhere. I've never seen it open.