Bent Plates in Violin Construction
Author(s): Athanas Lolov
Source: The Galpin Society Journal, Vol. 37 (Mar., 1984), pp. 10-15
Published by: Galpin Society
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ATHANAS LOLOV
Bent Plates in Violin
Construction
T HE use of bent top plates in the construction of viols was recently
discussed by Dietrich Kessler.1 He presented convincing evidence
that a viol top by Richard Meares (c. 1660) was formed at least partially of
slats bent in the manner of a lute back, and proposed that some method
of bending might have been used by other well-known English makers,
most importantly Barak Norman. The discovery of what may have
been a school of bent-plate viol builders in England is important in
itself, but is particularly interesting for the support it offers another,
even more controversial, theory: that bending could have been used by
some of the Cremona violin makers.
In his article concerning the Meares viol, Kessler rejected any
application of the bending method to two-piece tops such as are used for
violins, saying only that the bending method does not apply to violins
because 'no bending is used in their construction'.2 No support was
offered for that statement, it being simply an assumption, and that is a
little surprising given the innovative nature of Kessler's article. Most
people had assumed no bending to be involved in viol tops either, until
he suggested it. The present study deals with a violin belly which was
bent from slats Y56" thick using a method very different from that
employed by Kessler; the resulting plate has characteristics that could
suggest an answer to some of the questions regarding the peculiarities of
violins built by the masters of Cremona.
While carving from a thick plank is certainly the most familiar
method for making a violin belly, and one with a long history, we
actually have no hard evidence that Stradivari's tops, for example, were
'dug from a plank'. We just have assumed that they were. A respect for
the scientific method requires at least that this admittedly somewhat
outlandish possibility be investigated. Indeed, it is curious that in all the
history of the Stradivari mystery, during which innumerable eccentric
or preposterous ideas have come forward,3 no one, to my knowledge,
has ever proposed that the master's tops might have received their initial
form by bending. That the idea is not so unnatural is evident from the
way I first heard it: a musically naive visitor looked at a newly
completed viol and asked, 'how do you bend the tops ?' What seemed at
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PLATE IV
Violin top made from bent plates. (a) before and (b) after joining.
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first like a humorous error led to the building in 1981 of a large viol, on a
Barak Norman pattern, with a top formed by bending. I found it to be
an excellent instrument, powerful in tone, quick to speak, and
remarkably free of wolves. The bending method I used was one which
could be applied to a two-piece top, and it was not long before I began
to wonder about the application of bending to violins.
The violins of Stradivari and those of the Guarneri family are alike in
that they are regarded as possessing a mysteriously irreproducable
beauty and power of tone. They also share some physical peculiarities
which are not easy to explain in the context of the traditional method of
building:
1) The ribs usually taper from the side blocks to the top. Neither the
amount of tapering nor the maximum height are consistent from violin
to violin, and the usual explanation for this tapering, that the belly thus
offers 'the necessary resistance to the neck',4 is questionable. William
Hill said of this feature, 'We entirely fail to perceive any fixed idea or
principle guiding Stradivari in determining the relative height of
sides . . ..
2) The f-holes almost always show distortion, the lower wing being
sunk beneath the plane of the plate. This effect is, of course, most
pronounced on the right side, where the sound post helps to support the
belly, but it does not appear in violins of later eras except when induced
by artificial means. Edward Heron-Allen, in his classic work on violin
construction, recommended producing this effect by means of twisting
the wood with a small stick, a procedure which smacks of superficial
imitation.6
3) The grain of the top often appears to converge slightly at the
extremities of the center joint. This phenomenon is largely hidden by
the fingerboard and tailpiece, but is still visible in vertical photographs
of many master instruments.7 The convergence is most easily observed
in instruments with very high arching. As long as the grain at the outer
extremes of the instrument remains straight, the curving of grain toward
the center could be a sign that the wood was bent upward in the middle
(see Fig. 1 for a graphic representation). The effect is, to be sure, very
subtle, and easily confused by irregular grain, but in those instruments
where it is plainly visible it is hard to explain by any other
hypothesis.
Some of the historical evidence also poses questions:
1) Stradivari is reported to have preferred to split his own wood for
tops. This implies that he did not use wood seasoned for many years.
Could he have been moved by any reasons other than economy? Could
a thick plate dry sufficiently in a short period to be safely employed in
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a violin? If he cut relatively thin slabs from green wood and wedged
them immediately, they would dry sufficiently in a single season and
retain their curve without further treatment.
2) It has often been suggested, as by Edward Heron-Allen in the
nineteenth century, that master builders split wood for violin tops,
rather than sawing it, to avoid disturbing the longitudinal fibers.8 Yet
how can one avoid disturbing the fibers when carving begins ? If the
grain follows the arch rather than being cut to it, more of the
longitudinal fibers will remain whole, and the top will be a great deal
strengthened.
The example shown in Pl. IV b was bent by a simple process. The
wood used was two book-matched slabs of Sitka spruce, each /16" thick.
They were thoroughly soaked in water, and then clamped together
along three sides. (It is worth noting that the soaking in water could have
been skipped if freshly-cut green wood were available.) A pair of
wedges was then driven into the areas corresponding to the upper and
lower bouts, the tips of the wedges being directed toward the center of
the curve of each bout. There are choices possible here; both the
orientation and the shape of the wedges could be altered with possibly
significant results. The wedging easily produced a recognizable
approximation of the flat-topped curve characteristic of Stradivari's
violins.
The wood, being thin, dried quickly, and retained its new shape well.
Beforejoining, the bent slabs presented the appearance of having grown
apart at the center of their joint (see Plate IV a), a consequence of
bending which necessitated spot-gluing each to a plank in order to plane
the joint straight. This is a step requiring some skill and practice, owing
to the curving of grain introduced by the bend. Once glued, the grain at
the tail end of the joint can be seen to converge slightly, though
irregularity in the grain has made this effect invisible at the upper
end.
The plate does not lie flat; the edges are warped upwards in the
middle as a consequence of stresses induced by the bending process. As
with the viol plates described by Kessler, some pressure is required to
force it down to meet the ribs. This provides a plausible motive for
tapering the ribs slightly, as less pressure would then be required to
make the joint. Even with this partial match of ribs to belly, however,
some pressure is still required; this pressure causes a small distortion of
the wings of the sound holes, resembling that which Heron-Allen
imitated by use of a stick.
The amount of distortion in the plate is unpredictable, being
different for each piece of wood. This could explain not only the
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variations in the distortion of f-holes, but also the seemingly random
variation in the rib height of Stradivari's works, assuming an attempt
was made to shape the ribs to at least partially conform to the top.
Carving was minimal, and was guided by the roughly defined shape
already present in the wood. An added benefit was the ability to follow
the fibers with the plane: because the grain was rarely interrupted by the
face of a curve, the plane glided easily, even travelling 'uphill' without
digging in. The relative lack of exposed fiber ends should also make
finishing easier.
It is clear that the labor saved by this method is considerable, but that
might not have been the only motive for a maker to bend tops. In the
seventeenth century the cost of materials made a much more significant
proportion of the cost of any manufactured item, and that could have
caused a craftsman to consider ways by which he might double the
number of instruments obtainable from a given amount of wood.
Whether the method was adopted from economic motives or from an
understanding of the benefits in structural strength is, however, of little
importance. If it was indeed used by the Cremona makers it was used
because it worked, and perhaps was kept as a trade secret for the same
reason, a feat which would not be difficult since the bulk of the
labor in violin manufacture was concerned with the other parts
of the instrument. Kessler's discovery of a (probably not unique)
viol belly made by bending in seventeenth-century England is proof that
even such a large trade secret as this one can be both kept and
forgotten.
Further research should focus on an examination of the center joints
of a wide range of master violins, and, if possible, on a microscopic
examination of the fibers in a section of the arch, should a fragment of
one of these instruments ever be available. Convergence of grain at the
top and bottom of the joint is an unavoidable artifact of the bending
process but is not always apparent to the eye, as is evidenced by the plate
described above. Yet, even in this plate careful use of a straightedge
with the photograph will reveal a slight convexity of grain on both sides
of the joint; instruments displaying this characteristic may justly be
suspected of having been bent. Fig. 1 provides a clearer image of the
effect of bending on grain. The drawing was made by photographing
ruled paper bent to roughly the curve of a violin belly; the lack of
irregularity in the 'grain' makes the convergence at the center joint
more obvious, though if the center joint were not visible the curve of
even these ruled lines would not be strikingly apparent. Stradivari's last
instruments were somewhat flatter than this model and any curving of
grain will consequently be still more subtle.
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__
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?_ ?_
?_
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__ ? ?
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FIG. 1. Simulation of bent plate top.
It is unfortunate that close examination of a master instrument is very
difficult to arrange, as a much higher degree of certainty could be
obtained merely by looking under the tailpiece and fingerboard with an
illuminated mirror. The superficial examinations already made, without
the opportunity to look beneath tailpieces and fingerboards, indicate
that many of the violins thought to be from Cremonese masters have
signs consistent with what would be expected from a bent top, while
instruments from other schools and later eras generally do not. This
suggests an interesting possibility, that if the bent-plate theory is proved
a fact, the violin trade will be provided with a powerful tool with which
to judge the authenticity of supposed Cremonese violins. 'Le Messie',
the most famous of the violins attributed to Stradivari, for example, is
alone among the instruments examined superficially in that it displays
none of the characteristics described above. A careful reading of the
story of 'Le Messie' shows that its history before its possession by
Vuillaume rests entirely on the veracity of that maker, who was famed
for his accurate copies of master instruments. Is it possible that 'Le
Messie' is one of them ?
There are many factors involved in the making of a fine violin, and
the manner of shaping the top cannot, by itself, necessarily be decisive
for the outcome. However, the bent-top theory is the first to provide a
plausible explanation for the unbroken string of failures which marks
the record of modern attempts to reproduce with consistency the tonal
qualities of Cremona violins. The varnishes have been examined with
x-ray spectroscopy; every dimension has been measured with all the
exactitude of which our technology is capable; the woods have been
matched so closely that variation between any two violins of one of the
old masters far exceeds the difference between a modern copy and its
original. And yet all the master violins, regardless of their variation in
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shape, dimensions, and finish, share tonal qualities which set them far
above any of the copies. Even age cannot wholly account for the
difference, since the violins of Stradivari were famous even when he
was alive. Conversely, Villaume's copies are now close to two hundred
years old, and show no signs of beginning to sound like their models. A
basic structural difference between the fiber arrangement of the old
violins and that of the new would provide a rational explanation of the
phenomenon, though it would deprive us of the romantic hope,
cherished by many, that Stradivari and his peers were simply possessed
of magical powers, an idea which certainly would have amused those
superb craftsmen.
The author thanks Jeffrey Evans for his many suggestions during the
preparation of this paper.
NOTES
iDietrich Kessler, 'Viol Construction in 17th-century England', Early Music
10, No. 3 (July 1982), 340-345.
2 ibid., p. 345.
3 For example, it has been suggested that Stradivari's varnish contained
powdered diamonds, and that the wood for his instruments was cured by being
soaked six months in urine.
4See August Riechers, 'The Violin and Its Construction', in Violin
Iconography of Antonio Stradivari, 1644-1737, by Herbert K. Goodkind
(Larchmont, New York: Privately printed, 1972), p. 128.
5 William Hill, Antonio Stradivari, His Life and Work 1644-1737 (New York:
Dover, 1963), p. 55.
6 Edward Heron-Allen, Violin-Making as It Was and Is, 2nd Ed. (New York:
Carl Fischer, 1885), p. 258, fig. 155.
7 For examples, see Karel Jalovec, Italian Violin Makers (London: Paul
Hamlyn, 1964), Plates 62, 148, 156, 171, 186, 192, 197, 231, 244, 256, 362, 369.
Also Walter Hamma, Meister italienischer Geigenbaukunst (Stuttgart: Schuler,
1964), plates 603, 604, 615, 622, 630, 640, 642, 653, 654, 656, 659.
8 Heron-Allen, p. 133.
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