Where memories are made: John Flynn at home in Flynn Silver's Kyneton workshop. |
‘From Kyneton to Dubai and through to the United Kingdom’ is not what one would think about a little silversmith business crafting in the heart of Victoria’s Macedon Ranges.
Yet, for John Flynn of the highly coveted Flynn Silver, there is nowhere he and his tight-knit family business would rather be.
“It’s a wonderful place; I like to think I’m the luckiest person in the world.” Flynn says.
From the moment I drove up the grand gravel drive, past a pond with dipping ducks and a miniature train rail circling it’s edges, I was greeted with two grand houses, sitting a mere hundred metres apart.
As I stepped foot out of the warmth of my little city hatchback and onto the cold luscious lawn, I felt a sense of great privilege and warmth to be welcomed by John and wife Anna Flynn’s country abode.
John and his brother Dan own and run the boutique business that was started by their father shortly after World War II, and since the gradual control of the reigns after the death of their father in 1978, it is clear both the brothers have carved creations that even the most acclaimed of artists would be impressed by.
“It wasn’t so much a [instant] take-on, it was a more gradual process,” Flynn said, of his father’s passing.
“As kids, we grew up in the workroom, so it was quite natural,”
“In the early days it was a big learning curve. We made a lot of mistakes, but that’s the beauty of it [silver] - if you make a mistake, most of the time, you can melt it down,” Flynn explained.
“We were very critical of our early work – we were using the same stamp [as their father did] so we had to be careful of the quality we were producing.”
In a global world with short lived trends, it is that exact attention to detail and critiquing skill that has paved the way for a highly respected career of international success.
Flynn takes me into the brothers’ workshop, neatly hidden behind the grand, white 1950’s style house that centrepieces itself as the property’s showroom and the family home for Dan and his wife.
We are accompanied on the short stroll from home to workshop by the adorable Reuben, Anna’s miniature chocolate brown poodle, who Flynn insists “Is really only a one-person type of dog,” but acts as a third worker on weekdays, keeping the duo company, for often, hours at a time.
Quiet company: adorable little Reuben. |
As I wander around the tool cluttered workshop, Flynn explains the basic process of moulding silver, and points out a large, blue machine, a casting machine, used for drilling silver moulds at a high temperature, that is seemingly the key tool of their trade and the apple of their eyes.
“The majority of the furniture and tools in here were purchased by Dad,” Flynn says.
Silver moulds are made from Jeltrate, a quick drying gel commonly used in dentistry. |
Everything from medallions, brooches, sporting trophies and decorative ornaments, to gold prosthetic fingers have been produced by Flynn Silver.
“A local farmer had his finger cut off by a windmill, and we were asked to make him another one,” Flynn recalls of the unusual request.
When asked of the type and class of clients, Flynn is incredibly humble of the business’ achievements.
Attention to detail: John Flynn perfects a silver medal. |
Flynn Silver is internationally renowned for quality, having supplied designs to a handful of elite and prestigious organisations, with pieces in Buckingham Palace, the Vatican, many local and international churches and cathedrals, even supplying to corporate moguls such as Qantas, Ferrari, and BHP Billiton.
L: A polished piece ready for trophy assemble. R: A painted piece prior to polishing. |
“They [the winners] hold it up for...five seconds maybe, the publicity is very short-lived.” Flynn says.
For a small, home based business in a small, Victorian country town, the scale of success by Flynn Silver is remarkable.
As brothers, it is clear John and Dan share a very dynamic, precious relationship.
“As you get older, you become wiser, and you develop a mutual appreciation of what each other does,” says Flynn.
“We have regular discussions about a job, and I think that’s where the difference lays. Dan takes care of the creative side of things, while I’m more physical with the work.”
But surely living a few hundred metres apart and working together everyday hasn’t caused the odd explosive argument or two over the years?
“[Laughs] I am happy to say there have been no big spats,” chuckles Flynn at the suggestion of the partnership being a ‘perfect marriage'."
“We can work in comfortable silences for hours at a time.”
Just above the dusty casting machine, hangs two vintage photographs.
Just above the dusty casting machine, hangs two vintage photographs.
One of Flynn and his brother Dan, with their mother, the other of Dan as a young boy with their father.
John stares longingly at the frame for several seconds, and it is at this point that that the appreciation this family holds for one another is crystal clear.