Facilities designed for the storage of art can be lonely places. Sculptures and paintings that once stimulated and delighted, now silently sit under dim light, removed from their original intent and purpose. Some are there because they have fallen into disrepair. Others, however, have simply fallen from favor. Among the myriad of discarded, this one creation stood apart from the rest. A "Square Piano" constructed in Philadelphia 200 years ago by a man who came to live in a country that was barely older than himself. This object went beyond being created to communicate on only a visual level, this one existed to interact with its creators symbiotically, to create a higher plane of feelings and emotions that neither maker nor object were able to communicate on their own. For its first 100 years, this piano dutifully fulfilled its obligations of being. Then, due to the ravages of time or the fickleness of fancy, it came to live here. The next 100 years were spent removed from its greatness, its sense of belonging and purpose, destined but to linger forever, no longer desirable, in a preserved state of decay, hopelessly waiting to once again be at least deemed relevant, by someone, anyone, who can still recognize that spark of greatness. This is the story of one object. It's a beautifully morbid ballad of loss and loneliness, a desperate plea, an unwilling acceptance of obsolescence.

—Robert Deeds