A LITTLE BIT OF LOVE
Wimmer uses Hill cleaner when necessary. He applies it with cotton balls, rubbing until dry and then wiping away the residue with a clean rag, assiduously avoiding cracks and openings. “Not too much elbow grease, though. Especially in the wings.”

As they said in the German shop where he trained: do it “mit liber”—with love.

But McKean advises against attempting to clean your instrument yourself. Too many things can go wrong. During cleaning, the top layer of varnish can soften and become tacky, leading to “more rag left on the violin than dirt on the rag,” says McKean. “It takes a practiced eye to know where the dirt ends and the varnish begins.”

Even a “practiced eye” can be a bit heavy handed for some makers’ comfort. Another reason expert advice can seem contradictory is that a new ethic has started taking hold in the trade. Joseph Grubaugh, who helped organize the first violin makers’ seminar on surface finishes at the Smithsonian Institute, says that the fashion for shiny violins is a 20th-century aesthetic. He speculates that the high-gloss look came in with the heyday of the automobile, around the 1920s. “That’s old school now,” he says. “new school is, ‘Don’t do that!’”

That new school approach reflects the appreciation collectors have for the unsullied look of vintage instruments. “The modern ethic started with Beare’s shop,” adds Grubaugh, referring to the influential J & A Beare’s violin shop, which routinely handles classic Italian instruments. A Strad that has never seen a “clean and polish” has a sensuous, subtle luster. It also has virtually all of its varnish.

“Slowly people have caught on to that,” Grubaugh says. “For the longest time in this country people would do a French polish, shine ’em up.” French polishing adds a layer of shellac, sandarac, and oil to the surface. It’s a procedure that does make a wooden instrument shiny, but it also bonds with and debases the original varnish.

Historically, some of the most famous shops were the worst offenders. “If the original varnish is what’s so special about the old instruments, why would you want to do that?” puzzles McKean.

BUILT TO LAST
Simply keeping your instrument clean before dirt and grime build up is the safest, most economical approach. McKean prefers soft cotton rags made from old t-shirts or handkerchiefs. Some makers also like the new micro-fiber cleaning cloths, whose tiny fibers are woven into hooks and loops designed to absorb dirt without added products. Whatever you choose, keep a supply on hand to cycle through your case and into the wash.

Players with aggressive perspiration should clean it off fast, says McKean. The salt it contains is corrosive, eating away varnish, wood, and even strings. “Wiping off the sweat should be good enough for most people,” he says. “If it’s like raindrops—those spots on the surface—a Kleenex lightly moistened with hot water will take off the salt without damaging the varnish. But be gentle and quick.”

Varnish will wear in certain places just from normal playing, especially on the heel of the neck and the lower rib of the upper bout on violins and violas where the hand touches when playing in the upper positions. McKean advises keeping an eye on such spots and having them retouched before exposing the bare wood. For players with aggressive perspiration, it is possible to add a protective plastic film that doesn’t harm the varnish as a barrier.

Tom Sparks of Indiana University suggests taking a lesson from the previous generation of players. As head of the violin-making program at the school of music, Sparks has observed the cleaning ritual of the older string faculty for decades. At the end of the day they will sit down and clean their instruments, winding down and chatting as they work. First they clean the strings and fingerboard with a chamois, then clean the chinrest. With a soft cloth they wipe away the rosin, carefully inspecting the whole instrument before putting it away and closing the case. “It’s a relationship,” he says, “and they’re mindful of the relationship.”

“It’s not your violin. It was not created for you,” Grubaugh says. “You’re just the caretaker ‘til the next guy comes along. In fact, you probably have it because some other guy took care of it. In this throw-away society, this is something made to last.”