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Background info on me and my approach to violin making

On me

If you might have found on this site a few things rather out of the ordinary, they stem from the circumstance that as a violin maker I am mostly autodidact. After having finished my musicological studies at university (with a bias towards early instruments) I worked at the Brussels Musical Instrument Museum for almost three years. After that I worked seven years for a Dutch society of musical instrument makers (amateurs as well as professionals), organizing courses, editing their magazine and doing other desk work. In these years I got a few very helpful hints from the violin maker Kees Roos on topics like working with hot glue, bending ribs, making a sound join, gouging a scroll and the like. By that time I was irrevocably infected with the violin making virus. But, as I played the double bass  the more logical path seemed to be to set up as a maker of double basses.

So I did in 1986 and from the onset I got warm support from Anthony Woodrow, who gave me access to interesting basses and provided me with an expert partner for exchanging thoughts on sound.

I learned much about making in general, historical methods in particular, and acoustics by reading the available source material (Moeckel, Heron Allen, Hutchins, Janssons, Hill, Sacconi, Dilworth, Pollens, Rosengard, Hargraves, to name a few).

But, the double bass is an orchestral instrument and gradually, starting with repair work, I began to work on the smaller relatives too. Why, let’s face it: after double bass making even a cello is like having holidays. And, the smaller instruments provide one with a much steeper learning curve. And, as by and by I got the impression that we know virtually nothing about the acoustical “inner world” of the classical Italian violin making tradition, that was exactly what I was looking for.

On making

As I mentioned in short already I try to follow the classical Italian methods of construction. With one notable exception. I do not use the outline of the instrument as a guide for the placement of the f-holes and therefore the alignment of the neck. And I do not nail the neck onto the rib, though on request I’ll be prepared to do so. Normally I let the neck into the top block a few millimeters, in perfect alignment, while the whole structure is still on the mould. Gluing the neck onto the finished corpus, as the German tradition teaches us, never has had much attraction for me: too many surfaces and alignments that have to fit perfectly at the same moment. Many a double bass neck come loose, the fitting of which on inspection revealed huge masses of old crumbled glue, has testified that I was not the first to whom this way of working posed serious problems.

Keeping the neck straight while gluing the back onto the rib structure, is easily done with  a flat auxiliary belly, some 5 mm thick, with a centre line scribed on it (the “fausse table” as described by Diderot in his Encyclopedie). As there is no subsequent distortion of the ribs, I can finish the outline of the plates, and do the purfling, before assembling the instrument. Especially with double basses this makes the effort a lot more human.

On sound

Brescian design

Talking about sound itself is often rather pointless if it’s not there to listen to. But I might be able to give you an impression what to look for in my instruments, by communicating a few thoughts on sound and how I came by them. For instance, the profound impression made on me by the sound of a large double bass by Gasparo Bertolotti (da Salo), and much later by a small double bass of this maker. Both had a dark, yet strong and singing tone, with an exceptional projection: a wonderful combination of characteristics that has never lost its attraction for me. And I do think, along with a few others, that this has much to do with the characteristic layout of the centre part of his instruments, which always is of a generous width, with short C bouts, the f-holes set rather wide. Very suitable for bass instruments. A big (80cm back length) baroque cello, laid out in this manner really is a bass instrument with a profound low C, not a tenor, wonderful for early  ensemble work. The lower strings of violas too get additional warmth and strength by this layout. Violins on the other hand are biased more towards the higher strings, towards soloistic qualities, so that for their basic layout I ended up in Cremona, with Guiseppe Guarneri del Jesu in particular. The sturdy warmth of his lower strings made me feel at least partially at home, and he knew how to combine that with soaring higher strings.

Cremonese curves

And I was left with a problem, for Cremonese layout has been copied extensively without getting consistent tonal results. Guarneris longitudinal arching, arching heights, layout and f-hole arrangement vary wildly, but with amazing consistency of sound. It was only very slowly that it began to dawn upon me that the only more or less consistent aspect of his work was to be found in the transverse arching. And particularly in this respect Brescian and Cremonese arching differ fundamentally. My basic aim, especially for the smaller instruments, is to combine the best of both worlds.

Baroque sound

Strings, bridge, neck, fingerboard, bass bar, string length etc. will all have some impact on the sound. But still I am not convinced that herein is contained the essence of the “lost” baroque sound. Nobody has had the daring to tinker with the arching, f-holes etc. of the early masters, so that’s probably not part of the mystery either. What we do know is that there has been a craze for rethicknessing Cremonese instruments in the late 18^th and early 19^th century. In that time also mention is now and then made of the efficient but somewhat raucous sound quality of Cremonese instruments as opposed to gambas and violins by Stainer and other Tyrolean and Bohemian makers. Clearly a change in musical taste was developing. Rethicknessing only went one way, thinner, and many makers will have experienced how a well wooded back provided one with an oboe like sound quality, that however could very well do with some additional velvet, according to our taste, which basically has been shaped in the 19ty century. But it is not too difficult to imagine how the extravert sound of a Cremonese string band greatly enhanced the festivity of an archduke’s garden party, or papal service.

Shaping the sound

In the light of the amazing consistency in tonal respect as attained by the classical masters, it is highly improbable that they glued the box together, varnished and sold it. They must at some point have been able to influence the tonal result in detail. If we assume that they did so while playing the instrument in the white, we can at least account for the often quite irregular graduation of the plates. They did it by ear, not by caliper, and they did not have the means, or, most probably, didn’t bother to measure the geometrical results as opposed to the acoustical. Bear in mind, that Gasparo for instance was an accomplished double bass player, and that most of the Amatis were violinists.

This said, you will not be surprised that my instruments start their lives with ample wood in the plates that leaves me with every opportunity to do the final shaping of the sound. I frankly admit that much of this subject still is a moot point, and invite you to visit my forum, look at the hypotheses jotted down there and join the discussion.