Piano Funeral

Before construction starts, we opened the doors.

For one night, the space stayed exactly as we found it - no walls moved, no floors touched, no plans imposed. Just people, and a piano that had been sitting there for years.

The room filled quickly.

The piano had already lived a full life. We tried to give it away for months. No takers. So instead of quietly hauling it out, we gave it a proper sendoff.

A funeral felt more appropriate.

Tamar led a short ritual - part serious, part not - to mark the transition.

We sang a little and played music in the space for the first time.

Not a set. Not a performance. Just music.

A little free, a little traditional.

Loose, warm, a little unpredictable.

People wandered, talked, drank, played, listened.

Some people took pieces of the space with them - plates, silverware, appliances, whatever was on its way out anyway.

Nothing was organized, but it worked.

A lot of people who came will be able to say they saw it before - before the hallway, before the music room, before it was finished.

My godson was there. One day he can say he was at the first event.

In the end, our friend Matt took the piano and arranged to move it to his space.

We’re aiming to open in late summer.

There’s still a lot to build. But now there’s something to build on.