Dark Side Of The Moon

The Dark Side of the Moon — Pink Floyd (1973)

Morrison Court Main Bedroom Collection

Night has a particular texture inside the Morrison Court bedroom.
It’s soft, contemplative — a stillness that seems to hum faintly beneath the surface, like a held note that never resolves. And above the bed, suspended in the centre of the wall, that hum finds its image: The Dark Side of the Moon.

Encased in its deep frame, the iconic prism from Pink Floyd’s 1973 masterpiece splits an invisible beam into spectral light. The design is elemental — black, white, and colour in perfect dialogue — yet its emotional reach is infinite. It’s one of those rare symbols that seem to contain everything: science, philosophy, music, and mystery.

When guests enter the room, they notice it first. Not because it demands attention, but because it radiates quiet gravity. It seems to belong not only to the wall, but to the air.

The Story in Light

When The Dark Side of the Moon was released, it redefined what an album could be. More than music, it was an experience — a continuous sequence of sound and thought.

It charted the fragile human journey through time, consciousness, and emotion, from the ticking clocks of “Time” to the whispered truths of “Eclipse.”

Its cover, conceived by the design collective Hipgnosis, captured all of this in a single, distilled image.

A triangle, a beam, a spectrum. One idea — rendered eternal.

That design became one of the most recognizable artworks in the world.

But beyond the surface, it was a statement of balance: light meeting matter, precision meeting imagination, art meeting physics. The prism was both a scientific object and a spiritual symbol — a bridge between the measurable and the infinite.

The Bedroom as Observatory

Here, at Morrison Court, we framed the original gatefold of the album — the long horizontal expanse of black pierced by the prism — flanked by both sides of the record, like celestial bodies in orbit. Though the original was a single vinyl, we displayed both sides, reflecting the album’s duality: clarity and chaos, reason and emotion, waking and dream.

The piece sits perfectly aligned above the bed, its symmetry echoing the pair of wall lamps that cast a soft, amber glow across it at night.

In daylight, it feels architectural — restrained, precise.

At night, it turns luminous, like a thought unfolding in darkness.

The bedroom is, after all, a place of reflection — a private cosmos where thoughts scatter like stars. The Dark Side of the Moon belongs here because it speaks that same silent language. It reminds us that even rest is a creative act: a space where the mind continues to travel, refracting experience into memory.

The Meaning of the Prism

The prism is more than design — it’s a metaphor for existence.

White light, entering from one side, emerges on the other as a rainbow: fragmented yet complete. It represents the way life itself refracts through us — how time, love, loss, and awareness turn a single soul into many colours.

Above the bed, the image becomes personal. It transforms into a meditation on unity: the daily rhythm of light and shadow, consciousness and surrender.

To sleep beneath it is to rest under the idea that life is, in essence, the art of transformation — that clarity and chaos coexist, that light needs darkness to be seen.

The Sound of Stillness

The genius of this artwork is that it makes sound visible. The sharpness of the prism’s angles and the fluid spread of colour suggest the invisible architecture of music — frequency turned into form.

In the quiet of the Morrison Court bedroom, it almost hums. The deep matte vinyl discs on either side act like visual echoes of the heartbeats that begin and end the record. The design’s geometry — circles meeting triangles, black fields divided by line — gives the space a rhythm that feels almost musical.

It turns the wall into an instrument, tuned perfectly to calm.

The Story of Placement

Every decision in the Morrison Court collection is intentional. The Sgt. Pepper’s piece in the living room celebrates energy, collaboration, and daylight.

The Dark Side of the Moon above the bed speaks to its counterpart in reverse — introspection, solitude, and night.

Together, they form the emotional spectrum of the home.

In one space, The Beatles invite conversation and laughter; in the other, Pink Floyd invites silence and thought.

It’s the same 1960s–70s spirit seen through two prisms: one colourful and communal, the other cerebral and cosmic. Both celebrate imagination. Both redefine comfort.

The Quiet Companion

By placing this artwork above the bed, we allowed it to become part of the daily rhythm of the room.

In the morning, it greets the first light, softening the boundary between dream and day. At night, it becomes a companion for introspection — something to gaze upon before closing your eyes, like a window to the mind.

The piece doesn’t overpower; it balances. It’s there to be felt as much as seen. And that, perhaps, is what makes it timeless — its ability to hold presence without insistence, meaning without noise.

Curatorial Reflection

Within the Morrison Court Art & Décor Collection, this piece occupies a pivotal position — both literally and symbolically.

Where the Slim Aarons photograph captures light as leisure, and Wagyū / Fuji translates effort into form, The Dark Side of the Moon transforms thought into stillness.

It is the heart of the collection’s rhythm: a meditation between the outer world of sociability and the inner world of reflection. Its placement in the main bedroom aligns perfectly with the apartment’s philosophy — that luxury is not opulence, but awareness. That art, when thoughtfully chosen, can be not just seen, but lived.

In the prism’s silent beam lies everything Morrison Court celebrates: light, transformation, precision, and peace. It’s the moment between inhale and exhale, day and night — where beauty holds its breath.

For those who sleep beneath it, this artwork becomes more than music history. It becomes an emblem of balance, a quiet hymn to the infinite possibilities of being.

In its darkness, there is light.
In its silence, there is sound.
And in its stillness — a perfect kind of harmony.