Sunday Tree - Maple, Spruce
Making a suitable machine
We are surrounded by increasingly complex machines that demand our attention. They constantly remind us to update to the latest version of their software, and tell us when we need to buy a new machine because it is “better.” This addiction to the new pervades our lives, pressing us to get the latest car, the newest floor sweeper, an autonomous pet feeder and, especially, the latest computing technology. Modern business is structured largely around the idea that we will constantly replace our goods. I’d like to tell you about a machine that has been with us with very little change for 500 years, a machine that is so well suited to its use that it does not need to be updated or replaced. That machine is the violin.
If you are able, please consider becoming a paid subscriber or give us a tip at Ko-fi. Our ability to bring you these stories depends on your generosity.
Beside my desk are several cases. In each one is a violin and a couple of bows. Two of the violins were made in a small shop in Borneo. The luthier (violin maker) was trying to build student violins of local, tropical wood. I gave him some advice on wood choices and he gave me two violins to take home. I prize these fiddles for what they mean, but their sound is not great. The other violins are made with spruce bellies (tops) and maple backs and sides. This combination of spruce and maple describes the vast majority of violins in the world. Most also have ebony fingerboards, pegs, and chin rests, but this varies.
Spruce and maple have made the bodies of nearly all fine violins for almost 500 years. Andrea Amati was a luthier in Cremona, Italy. Sometime around 1560, he invented the violin, viola, and cello, now known as the violin family. There were similar instruments before Amati, but his were the first that look like the instruments we know today. I will talk about violins in the rest of this story, as it’s the instrument I play, but the discussion includes violas and cellos. Double basses have a slightly different history. These original instruments were designed for small spaces and small ensembles. A few centuries later, as romantic music came to the fore, most of the old instruments were slightly modified to be louder.
Three families came to dominate violin making in Cremona, the Amatis, the Stradivaris, and the Guarneris. The instruments that survive to this day are works of art that fetch millions of dollars at auction. The Stradivarius and Guarnerius instruments are prized as art, but also as working instruments. Many famous performers play these instruments which are loaned to them by wealthy owners. As a teenager, I had the opportunity to play a Stradivarius violin while standing in a bank vault. The memory of playing it gives me chills to this day.
The Cremonese luthiers obtained their Norway spruce, Picea abies, from the Fiemme Valley in the foothills of the Alps north of Cremona. This forest still exists and still produces some of the finest tone wood. For maple, the Cremonese luthiers used Bosnian maple, a variety of Norway maple (Acer platanoides).
Obtaining wood for fine violins is not simply a matter of cutting some trees. Wood suitable for fine instruments is known as tone wood. It is carefully selected from a small number of trees. Foresters carefully tap the trees and the wood to see which gives the most responsive sound. After harvest, the wood is carefully dried and subject to many rounds of selection, carefully tapping for the most responsive wood. I have explored the tap tones of a large collection of wood in a violin shop in Baltimore, and the difference in response of each piece of wood is remarkable.
Once the wood is selected, the skill of the luthier comes into play. Throughout the last 500 years, only a small number of luthiers have developed the ability to make fine violins. And each violin appeals to players differently.
The music that comes out of a violin depends on the trees, the forester and wood sellers who selected the wood, the skill of the luthier, the history of the instrument, and the musician who plays the instrument. We become deeply attached to our violins. The violin and viola sit on our left shoulder just above our heart, and the vibrations of the instrument radiate through our chest. For a cellist, the instrument is cradled between the legs and the vibrations travel through the upper body.
History is important because violins wear out. A violin that is not played acquires a stiff, unresponsive tone. A violin that is played too much eventually wears out as the constant vibration of the wood weakens it. Owners of fine violins, especially old ones, are careful not to play them too much or too little. The Smithsonian, for example has several quartets (2 violins, viola, cello) of fine instruments including Stradivarius, that are played in regular rotation by the resident string quartets.
For a very long time, these old machines were considered the best that could be made. Luthiers were constantly trying to replicate the wood, the shape, even the varnish of these great instruments. Recently, though, a group of experts - acousticians, players, and luthiers - performed a double blind experiment. Blindfolded players picked up instruments they could not see and played to an audience of experts from behind a curtain. The players and the experts then rated the sound of each instrument. The winners were mostly modern instruments, many made by living luthiers. What does this mean? New instruments tend to be slightly louder than old instruments, but for the most part, players do not recognize large differences between new and old. We may explore this a bit more in a future story. For now, we can say that the differences between new and old instruments are small, and there is no secret formula to the old instruments.
What we have, then, after 500 years of making and playing these instruments, is that they cannot be improved upon to any large degree. They are perfectly suited to their use, they meet our needs well enough.
What can this tell us about our society’s obsession with “new and improved” machines. Could we perhaps reconsider our obsession or the obsession with makers and sellers of our machines to constantly seek something new. I may say more about this later, but right now, I need to practice.
Thank you for this lovely reminder of the music hidden deep in trees.
Decades ago when I made the move from New England to the Twin Cities, I decided to buy a new grand piano rather than ship the very old and fragile one I had had out east. On a visit to a showroom of Kawaii grands, I tried every one and finally chose the one whose sound resonated most deeply to me. A few weeks later I visited another of the same store's showrooms, and I found one that was as good as, if not better, than the first. I had put a deposit down on the first but asked the store to transfer the deposit to the second. When the salesperson was handling this transaction, he noticed that the two pianos had consecutive serial numbers. "So they were probably made on the same day, using wood from the same tree," he said. Still gives me shivers thinking about how a tree could have spoken to me in that way.