Luthier Christopher Dungey struggles with his special
cello travel case in the baggage-claim area at the Cincinnati, Ohio,
airport. A short bus ride away, fellow makers are beginning to register
their instruments at the Twenty-Eighth Annual Violin Society of America
(VSA) Convention and Fourteenth International Competition, held this
year at the Drawbridge Hotel in nearby Fort Mitchell, Kentucky. The
event, although hosted by an American association, draws luthiers, musicians,
collectors, and curious violin lovers from around the world, particularly
in competition years (although the convention is annual, competitions
are held only biannually). For one intense week in November, conference
goers and competitors submerge themselves in the world of contemporary
violin making, exchanging experiences and ideas with fellow luthiers,
visiting commercial booths, listening to live musical performances,
attending educational lectures, and just rubbing elbows with like-minded
professionals.
Considered by many to be the most progressive competition
in existence, the VSA presents awards for violins, violas, cellos, basses,
bows, and matched quartets on both tone and workmanship. Participants
must prepare submissions under certain requirements outlined in the
preregistration material, and have the instruments at the competition
by a specific deadline in order to take part. For most contestants,
this means months of hard work and frantic last-minute preparations.
"It is overwhelming to prepare for competition," says Rolland
Feller, one of this year’s workmanship judges. "You sometimes are
finishing instruments the day before you leave. And everybody
does this. You want to do the best you can, and most makers will remake
pieces until they are perfect. I have polished instruments while on
the plane to the competition!"
Judging is a lengthy and careful process. An instrument
is considered by two independent sets of judges: the tone judges are
usually musicians (this year, the member of the Maia Quartet lent their
ears), and many of the workmanship judges are makers who have previously
participated in the competition. The instruments are viewed one at a
time, and the judge and an assistant rate the instruments numerically
on a tally sheet; questions cover the instrument as a whole as well
as specific evaluation points. Then the numbers are run through a computer.
While tone and workmanship awards are desirable, what every entrant
really wants is a gold medal—but to win one, an instrument must receive
top points in one category plus a respectable grade in the other.
Despite the constraints of a numerical system, Feller
says, "it is a very intuitive and spiritual process. Sometimes
an instrument will just talk to you. There are instruments that I thought
were perfect, but forgot once I got home. Others you listen to and they
continue to speak to you years later."
The tone of the conference is relaxed and friendly;
a visitor immediately gets the sense that participants are here to compete
positively, learn, and reunite with old friends. People of all ages
traverse the rooms and a babble of different languages fills the halls.
Registration for the events is fairly simple, but the competitors must
join a line that seems to stretch on forever to submit their instruments
and bows. Everyone appears good-natured about it, though, using the
opportunity to catch up with friends and colleagues. They know that
in order to protect the instruments’ anonymity during judging, the check-in
period must be strictly limited. After each instrument and bow has been
entered into a computer and labels have been covered or removed, each
is assigned a random number, and no more entries are accepted.
Violin maker Alexander Tulchinsky is standing in the
line; he has traveled from Long Island to enter the competition. Working
out of a home shop, Tulchinsky—who started as a violist—has been making
instruments for more than 20 years, but only recently begun entering
competitions. "This is my second VSA," he reports. "I’m
entering a violin and a viola; it took me four months to prepare!"
At 7 P.M., instrument maker Benjamin Ruth arrives after
driving the nine hours from Ithaca, New York. He is here to enter a
quartet of instruments into the competition, but runs into trouble right
away. "I checked with one of the board members about the deadline
because I was rather late in completing my instruments—I really just
finished them before I drove down—and I wanted to be sure of the procedure,
so I wouldn’t screw things up," he explains. "I was told the
deadline was nine o’clock, so I showed up at seven. But I was told by
a registrar that they weren’t taking any more instruments!" Several
other makers are with Ruth, and eventually they are admitted. But nerves
are rattled, feelings tense. It could be worse, however: one would-be
competitor’s instrument is delayed by shippers and won’t show up until
the second day. Because its anonymity would be compromised, competition
organizers refuse to allow the instrument in—a tough pill to swallow
after so much hard work.
Despite the restrictions, for many makers, this is the
competition in which to participate. "I only compete in the
VSA," declares Dungey. "I like the forums and meetings, and
think it is really advantageous to talk with the other makers and see
what they are doing."
Ruth agrees. "The VSA is the only competition that
I enter. The judging rules in most of the European competitions encourage
a very pristine style of making, and clean work and symmetry are valued
over everything else. I would rather explore other ideas—so, I like
the VSA’s progressive rules. And I think a lot of us that compete in
the VSA don’t make instruments with the competition in mind. We cater
more to players."
It takes a lot of hard work to put such a successful
event together. Barbara Van Itallie, executive director of the conference,
confides that she has spent more than a year preparing. The result is
an event like no other in the United States, and one well attended by
luthiers. For the most part, however, players seem to be unaware of
the opportunities the convention offers them. The price for admission
is very reasonable, and day passes are available. (For more information
on the VSA and its events, write to 48 Academy St., Poughkeepsie, NY
12601; or visit www.vsa.to.)
After registration and a welcome reception hosted by
Heritage Insurance on Monday night, the week commences in earnest Tuesday
morning, when the commercial exhibits open and the lectures begin. Lasting
roughly an hour each, the talks cover a wide variety of topics; although
some are clearly intended for makers (such as "Violin Making in
Turin: 1800–1870," by Philip Kass) a surprising number are of equal
interest to players. The afternoon brings a lecture/workshop by William
Conable on the Alexander Technique, and a fascinating presentation by
D’Addario expert Norman Pickering and his protégé Fan-Chia
Tao explaining why different strings sound and react the way they do.
At five o’clock, many attendees pile eagerly into cars and buses for
a tour of Cincinnati’s Baroque Violin Shop, where the highlight of the
event is an opportunity to view and play some very rare antique instruments.
When dinnertime rolls around, conventioneers quickly
fill the hotel’s several eateries as well as the local restaurants.
Large groups crowd around too-small tables—there’s always room for one
more, and makers keep recognizing old friends and calling them to join
the group. It’s a crash course in American culture for some of the foreign
visitors; even the Canadians are asking questions, particularly about
the upheaval of the U.S. presidential election. German bow maker Gregor
Walbrodt is here for the second time, so he’s prepared when the restaurant
bill arrives. "These are Salt Lake City dollars," he grins,
pulling money from his wallet. "I got them two years ago, at the
last competition!"
After dinner it’s back to the exhibit areas for the
makers’ forums. Luthier Raymond Melanson heads for the violin makers’
forum, where a packed crowd is gathering for demonstrations on everything
from purfling techniques to a new idea for coping with shop dust (see
Encore, page 90). He and Gary Davis give a talk on cello setups and
then answer other instrument-setup questions. Down in the bow makers’
forum, things are getting serious. Walbrodt focuses on following the
rapid-fire flow of English (and other languages) as makers earnestly
debate what to do about the increasing shortage of pernambuco, the wood
from which they make their bows. As one of the younger bow makers in
attendence, Wolbrodt will be most affected by the dwindling resources.
After the evening’s festivities, like most nights at
the VSA, music can be heard emanating from the cozy hotel lobby. Musicians
collect to play a variety of instruments, many of their own making,
late into the night—much to the enjoyment of all. Byron Berline, three-time
national fiddle champion, plays previews of his Saturday night concert
(as he will nearly every night of the week) with a lively and interchanging
ensemble.
This warm, communal atmosphere works to overshadow the
memory of an unfortunate event at the previous competition (See "A
Gathering of Makers," Market Report, February/March 1999). On the
last day of the 13th competition, held in Salt Lake City, Utah, three
bows were stolen, including Roy G. Quade’s gold-medal winner. The idea
that anyone at a VSA conference would abuse this extraordinary opportunity
to view and play contemporary instruments was very upsetting, and the
VSA immediately began taking steps to prevent such theft from recurring.
Bow maker Rodney Mohr, a VSA board member, was deputized to make the
appropriate changes.
"I started researching security after we booked
the Drawbridge Inn three years ago," says Mohr, surveying the guarded
hall entrances. After a great deal of phone time with security companies
and the police department in the Fort Mitchell area, Mohr has arranged
for security to cover the commercial and exhibit halls, and has gotten
police officers posted at the doors of the competition-instrument room
and in the outer hall. Attendees must leave cameras, purses, and backpacks
at a table by the door. Fortunately, these measures don’t seem to be
putting a damper on the convention’s holiday mood.
On Wednesday, Dungey steps into a lecture hall, only
to find the normally quiet audience stirred up into a furor. A lecture
by the Metropolitan Museum’s instrument expert, Stuart Pollens, defending
his assertion that the "Messiah" Stradivari violin could not
be a Strad after all because the wood is too young (see "A False
‘Messiah’?" Market Report, May/June 1998), is scheduled back-to-back
with a talk by maker-restorer John Topham, who published an article
refuting Pollens’ results ("Faith Restored," Market Report,
July 2000). But the fireworks really begin after lunch in a highly anticipated
panel discussion of the subject, moderated by VSA president Helen Hayes
and featuring Pollens, Topham, dendrochonology expert Dr. Henri Grissino-Mayer,
and dealers Charles Beare, Carl Becker, and Philip Kass. The discussion
in the packed room becomes so heated that the doors are closed to keep
the noise down in the hall. "I thought it was a very good presentation
and an interesting discussion," reflects Dungey afterward. "But
aside from learning about dendrochronology, how does this relate on
a day-to-day basis to me as a maker?"
Thursday brings less controversial lectures on topics
including "Varnishing Today and the Old Italian Look," by
maker Joseph Curtin, and "Setup of Instruments," by Rene Morel.
In between, attendees squeeze in time to visit the commercial exhibition
rooms, where tables are staffed by folks from companies selling everything
from fiddles to frog-making materials. Bow makers hunch eagerly over
the trays of fine shell, searching for the perfect bit, while violin
makers hold up piece after piece of fine wood, each one cut into a distinctive
wedge shape, tilting them back and forth to let the light play across
the grain. "I do a lot of buying," says Melanson. "I
go through wood because I like to pick what meets my criteria rather
than having it shipped to me sight unseen. But the very first thing
that I do is go to the bridges! I think the wood you select to carve
a bridge is so important—so I quickly pick through and grab my
favorites." Finished instruments and bows are available, too, and
the disjointed sound of instruments being tried out punctuates the chatter
of conversation that fills the rooms. There is no obvious organization
of the tables, so a bookseller is cheek-by-jowl with a string maker,
an instrument insurer alongside a bow-hair dyer. An entire week could
be spent just examining the exhibits.
On Thursday evening, Dungey attends a concert by the
tone judges, the Maia String Quartet (Amy K. Appold, Timothy Shiu, violins;
Jessica Troy; viola, and Amos Yang, cello). The quartet performs Beethoven’s
Op. 18, No. 43, in B Minor, Janacek’s Quartet No. 1, the "Kreutzer
Sonata," and Schumann’s Quartet No. 3 in A Major, Op. 41. "They
are really excellent," declares Dungey at the concert’s end. "I
like them so much because they are young and put a lot of energy into
their music. I think the Maia Quartet is one of the best groups the
VSA has hosted!"
By the time Friday morning’s alarm clocks are ringing,
many of the competitors are unquestionably anxious, counting the hours
to the evening awards banquet. Confesses Tulchinsky, "I’m a little
nervous." He has enjoyed the conference thus far, and is careful
to point out that he does not consider the competition the primary point
of the event. "I just want to make an instrument with a good sound
and a good design. I am simply doing what I do all the time—I think
most of the makers here do it the same way. Everyone just does the best
they can, and then tries to keep doing it better and better."
VSA competition winners gain not just a certificate
or medal but a certain degree of increased notoriety. And more competitors
are entering each time, so winning is quite an achievement. This year
there are more entries than ever: 182 violins, 70 violas, 48 cellos,
and seven basses, as well as 19 quartets, 25 violin bows, 17 viola bows,
19 cello bows, and nine bass bows submitted for evaluation. "The
VSA has upped the quality of instruments in the past 20 years,"
says violin maker Kenneth Sullivan. "We are indeed approaching
our Golden Age."
The task of judging these instruments is undoubtedly
difficult—and all the judges are providing their time and expertise
on a strictly volunteer basis. Some attendees are concerned about the
sheer quantity of instruments and the time that can be allotted to each.
"They had a record number of instruments this year," says
Dungey, "and such a short amount of time to see all of them."
Friday brings the scholarship auction, which funds scholarshops
for violin and bow making students who hve been enrolled in a school
or apprenticeship program for at least one year, by selling off donated
items including several instruments. The bidding goes off well
and raises about $25,000.
Friday evening’s much-awaited awards banquet arrives
at last. The room fills with anxious makers and conference attendees.
The banquet, always long—especially to anxious competitors awaiting
the announcement of the winners—is extended with a ceremony honoring
Norman Pickering for all the hard work and support he has lent the VSA
in years past. Pickering maintains his usual poise and stately charm
throughout the ceremony, but it is clearly an emotional event for him,
and for the audience as well.
After nearly two hours, the awards are finally announced.
A collective gasp is heard when the list begins with the gold-medal
winners for viola—this means that no gold medals are awarded for violin.
The viola medals go to Marcus Klimke and William Scott. Then a second
whisper ripples through the room: the list has hopped again, to the
medal winner for bass (Daniel Hachez), meaning that there’s no gold-medal
winner for cello, either!
Another surprise is that many medal winners are not
in attendance. Many contestants confess afterwards that they do not
attend the banquet because it is just too uncomfortable, sitting on
pins and needles for so long. Others are limited by travel arrangements
and other commitments. Ruth was forced to go home early, and when someone
calls late on Friday night to congratulate him on winning a gold medal
for his quartet (as well as several certificates), he thinks they’re
joking. Only when the phone rings again and again with other well-wishers
does he realize he’s really done it! Walbrodt, however, is on hand to
accept the gold medals he’s won for his violin and cello bows. He seems
quite cool and collected, as always. "I spoke with several people
before dinner, and they didn’t tell me I’d win, but they liked my work,"
he reveals. Tulchinsky is in attendence, too, and despite his morning
nerves, he has taken a silver medal for the tone of his violin. (See
a list of the winners.)
As the evening draws to a close, attendees file out,
trading opinions on the lack of top medal winners. "Maybe there
were too many instruments," theorizes Melanson, who has won a certificate
of merit for tone for his cello. "I’m a little disappointed in
the lack of medals!" He suggests that a pre-judging process to
weed out lesser instruments before the official judging week begins
might help. He also wonders if the judges’ assistants could do more
in the future to ready instruments and move the process along by tuning
and prepping submissions.
Saturday brings the exhibition many have been waiting
for: every single competing instrument and bow is laid out in a large
room, available to be examined and played. A sea of violins, violas,
and bows stretches from wall to wall upon tables draped in white cloths,
the cellos and basses lined up on the floor. It is an unparalleled opportunity
to see the best in contemporary lutherie from around the world—not just
see it, but play each instrument, scrutinize the handiwork under large,
lighted magnifiers provided at open tables, and speak with the makers
themselves. The room is open from 9 A.M. to midnight, and many makers
have been champing at the bit to get in. (There was a preview of competition
instruments and bows midday Friday, but the room was packed and viewing
difficult.) Just being in the exhibition room is overwhelming and exhilarating.
It’s like being a kid in a candy shop—it’s difficult to focus on one
instrument amid so many gorgeous creations in such great numbers.
"This is such an incredible opportunity,"
says Kenneth Sullivan. "The important thing is that we learn from
these experiences how to do and be better."
Adds violin maker Gary Vessel, "This is the best
[VSA event] I’ve been to—and I say that every year!"
In the afternoon, many competitors meet with the judges
one-on-one. Time slots fill quickly; it’s a chance for luthiers to learn
why their instruments rated as they did. It’s an example of the VSA’s
interest in fostering great making, rather than simply rendering judgments,
that any maker can choose to meet with the judges and find out how to
improve.
The evening brings a concert by the Byron Berline Band,
which plays traditional bluegrass and Western swing to a packed room
for several hours. Onlookers are standing in rows at the back of the
makeshift concert room, and many can’t keep still with such rousing
music filling the room. When the performance winds to a close, the conferencegoers
linger; it is their last opportunity to hang out late into the night,
partying with old buddies and new friends. "Berline was hot!"
exclaims Melanson. "He is such a monster talent, and he makes it
look so easy."
Finally, competitors and attendees begin to say their
goodbyes and melt away. In the morning, the makers will pack up their
instruments and bows and head out. Many won’t see each other until the
next competition, two years hence. In the meantime, they’re already
starting to think about their next instrument or bow, applying what
they’ve seen and learned in a whirlwind week to that perfect creation
for which they’re always striving.
