Once again the garage is warming up enough to work on instruments. Sanity is restored!
The instrument vice now holds a vintage 1777 Antonius Stradivarius violin in need of attention. The top has separated and has one crack in it and the back has separated enough that the strings are pulling out the side in the rear of the instrument. Looks intimidating, but actually a straight-forward repair.
Likely — actually, most definitely — this instrument is not an original Stradivarius. It was not unusual for other builders to put the name of a famous builder on their instrument as they were following all the dimensions and style of the first builder. Antonio Stradivari lived in Cremona, Italy, built his first instrument in the late 1600s, and died in 1737. The instrument in my garage was most likely built in what we now call Czechia.
Still it is a privilege to work on an instrument that is almost 300 years old and a bit of a collector’s item.
This instrument has been repaired before, not surprising, given its age. Pulling the back off, several crack repairs appear. With violins (and most stringed instruments of that type), a particular type of glue is used so that the instrument can be taken apart without damaging the wood.
High end instruments like this violin are prone to cracks in the top, the sound board. The general rule of thumb is that thinner is better, meaning cracks are not unusual. The sound board has to carry the sound waves made by the strings through the entire top and resonate in the body of the instrument, the sound box. The thinner this material is, the more vibration the sound waves make and the longer the top can carry the sound waves.
The sound waves diminish as they travel through wood. The top and back are graduated from the middle to the sides so they can carry the sound waves evenly without fading. A carefully made top graduates evenly from center to sides, allowing the sound waves to maintain their shape and beauty. This little tidbit if information is what distinguishes a high end instrument from an average instrument, the consistency of the graduation.
On this particular instrument the top measures 4.1 mm in the middle and generally 2.7 on the edge (although where the edge of the sound board is glued to the sides it increases slightly to maintain integrity).
The other crucial piece inside an instrument is the bracing. On many of the oldest violins there’s one thin piece of bracing which travels from the top of the sound board to the bottom. This helps in two ways; it distributes the sound throughout the top, but also adds some integrity to the top, especially since the builder is making it as thin as possible.
This is always the balance in a quality instrument like this — structural integrity versus quality of sound. When I build a mandolin, I carve the bracing down until I reach a predetermined tuning when tapped, which according to the masters, is the optimal sound and wave length for a mando. This is a difficult technique with a learning curve that I am still meddling in.
The type of material used for the tops also makes a difference. The top needs to be a soft wood but with enough integrity to hold up to the beating it gets. Spruce and cedar are the materials of choice. Some of my ukuleles use Engelmann Spruce that my sons and I harvest and mill in Colorado. We are often pleasantly surprised that this material sounds just as good as premium and purchased material.
My wife and I listened to a podcast the other day where several violins were compared as to the quality of their sound. The violins were played professionally while four other professionals who could not see the instrument listened. The listeners rated the quality of each instrument. Interestingly, the oldest most expensive instruments built by famous builders did not rate any better than the contemporary builders and instruments. In fact one of the least expensive (a relative description) violins rated first.
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One of our pastors preached on Exodus 31 recently. The passage names the two builders of the tabernacle and its furniture — Bezalel, Uri’s son, Hur’s grandson from the tribe of Judah, and Oholiab, Ahisamach’s son from the tribe of Dan. Amazing! These two are significant enough to be recalled by name. They rank right up there with prophets, priests, and kings. Forever their names are carved into the story and into our minds. It reflects, I like to think, God’s own creativity and joy in making stuff and in building a community of builders.
The text goes on to say “I have filled him with the Spirit of God, in wisdom, and in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship…” They will be able to “create designs; do metalwork in gold, silver, and copper; cut stones for setting; carve wood; and do every kind of work.” Again, amazing! They are filled with God’s Spirit to build all kinds of stuff.
Reflect for a moment on how many chapters in the Bible are dedicated to the building of the tabernacle. Only two chapters cover creation compared to how many cover the tabernacle? Is it possible that God recognized that one way to meld these people together as a nation would be to have them build something together?
We do not regularly spend a lot of time on this part of the Bible. When our pastor had the courage to preach on this passage, it resonated deeply in our church. We are a congregation filled with artists, musicians, leather workers, wood workers. We heard this word from God saying something like, “I see you and your creative work which reflects my image and my purposes in this world.”
Building stuff can be a part of God’s kingdom here on earth and I can only imagine and hope it reflects “as it is in heaven.” Maybe we will all be building stuff then.
I’m pretty sure we will be playing some pretty fine instruments. Didn’t the Righteous Brothers (sorry, showing my age!) sing, “If there’s a rock and roll heaven, well you know they’ve got a hell of a band.”
Can’t wait!
