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Varnish has been deemed the holy grail of violin making.

I am writing this recollection of my approach and practise as much for my own benefit as for a customer, who might want to look behind the scenes. For most luthiers there is never an end to refining and revising “their”varnishing process.

So many paradoxical features are desired in varnish, which confuse and disorient the novice: We dislike a uniform surface without texture, but neither to we want a blotchy and inconsistent varnishing job. We love a silky shine, but not a plastic like gloss. We require transparency to the wood, but not an anemic colour.  The ideal colour is not brown, but please neither fire engine red. In fact we want many colours all at once. The surface character should neither be a hard and heavy carapace, nor can it be soft and fragile …. 

 Varnish carries the myth of forgotten secrets. Undoubtedly the look reflects the maker’s practise and artistic control.  

It is interesting how varnish emphasizes rather than hides craftsmanship. Faint tool marks show up sometimes in the varnishing, and if they show a fluid process, add to the beauty. Most makers finish the white wood whetting the grain and using scrapers and horsetail to cut the raised grain, rather than sandpaper, which tears the fibres.

Modern eyes dislike the look of red varnish on white wood. Red or orange feel brash on new wood and cold to us. Ironically the old masters might not have preferred the slowly yellowing background and instead liked the intense, clear new colour coating.

The aesthetics of the background are as important as the varnish . We need to achieve the tanning as well as a sealer ground coat keep the coloured varnish from seeping into the wood and staining it.

The “spark gap” is very effective for tanning, works best in a damp, warm atmosphere, but needs a guarded set up to be safe.

Koen Padding’s long years of research on classic instrument coatings resulted in varnishes and ground treatments, such as the “Imprematura Dorata”solution, sold under the “Magister” label.

It was a precious tincture widely used, alas no longer here for us. It required magically little time in UV light to achieve a golden ground.

Friends and fellow luthiers of Koen Padding compiled this book, including Koen’s articles and recalled conversations on violin varnish. A look around Koen’s workshop reveals research in progress, workstations and features the materials Koen worked with.

The chemical stains Koen likely employed to produce the “Imprematura Dorata” don’t cause the dreaded negative stain on spruce. Time and experiments with combinations of said chemicals lead to a workable solution, not in my case equal to the Magister product however.

Chrapiewicz ground, a saponified linseed oil/potassium silicate emulsion fulfills both the tanning and the ground coat requirements, but like many good things requires weeks of drying and darkening time. In my experience the emulsion does not store.

I have used gesso grounds, ( this with the idea of case hardening the shell), varnish pastes with kaolin, or simple clear resin coats to seal the tanned wood. The commercial “Liquin” does the sealing for my workshop series violins.

Varnish finally is the resinous top layer, usually build up in several applications. It consists of a resin dissolved in drying oil and or solvent. It’s function is to show off the instrument as well as protecting it from moisture and sweat. Pigments – or in the case of spirit varnish – tinctures are added for colouration.

Varnish does have a dampening and melding effect on the tone- beneficial to a point, but you don’t want a straight jacket.

Pine resin, Sandarac, Mastic, Elemi, Aloe, Copal, Venetian turpentine, various Shellacs, Benzoe, gums, colouring agents, a string of chemicals, some relatively inert, others reactive- even nefarious flooded our varnishing cabinets. There were too many materials to come to terms with.

At the Welsh School of Violin Making we learned to cook “Fulton’s”, a polymerized Venetian turpentine (larch resin) varnish. It was a good coating, perhaps a little anemic without pigments and quite glossy.

Students inclined to experimentation heard about adding ferric chloride to manipulate the colour towards a nice fox fur orange. This looked beautiful initially, but deteriorated with an unsightly craquelure over the years

Just for the record :this instrument’s sound is superior. Moreover a few years ago we met a similar looking instrument made by Joseph Kun, the Ottawa luthier who designed the Kun shoulder rest. Upon Joseph’s request, Greg had recommended this treatment. Joseph K. ‘s violin sounds equally convincing and is priced by the player, but we don’t advocate adding ferric chloride to varnish anymore.

We had other bad experiences, for example with colophony ( spruce resin varnishes) turning grass green. This might have been a reaction between pigments and the acidity of the varnish. Our Michelman’s colophony varnish darkened and rolled off. Again this could have been entirely due to a faulty procedure and application rather than the actual recipes, but we did become somewhat discouraged.

We needed method, consistency and fewer ingredients. The classic varnish probably came from the apothecary and we to needed an experienced alchemist.

In around 1988 we bought Gaery Baese’s book “Classic Italian violin Varnish”, an extensive ,organized and well presented research into the dizzying array of classic recipe sources and historic references. It is a pleasurable book to own with colour plates, material portraits and a comprehensive list of relevant historical sources. Baese deals with provenance of ingredients, terminology, trade history, production and application of varnish.

We started to boil varnish using sun thickened linseed oil, fused amber ( instead of Greek pitch) and mastic according to a recipe from the Marciana manuscript, a 16th century collection featured in G.Baese’s book.

The expensive fossil amber was probably less widely used than Aleppo pine ( Greek pitch), larch resin, Sandarac and other recent resins, but we were attracted to the stability and inherent darkness the resulting varnish.

According to need we moderated the “cut ” (proportion of oil) depending on wether the varnish was to be used as a first or last coat. We reduced the mastic content, as it seemed soft and took imprints. However it would be more appropriate to call Mastic, the exudation from the pistachio bush, a plasticizer. It was used since antiquity for mouth hygiene as a chewing gum. We also started using bubbled and boiled Walnut oil for the top coat as it dries with a matter silkier surface.

The somewhat disagreeable part of the varnish production is the fusing of the amber as the fossil resin would not otherwise dissolve in the boiling oil. This operation takes up to 3 hours heating at a temperature between 250C and 300C while releasing toxic fumes. ( succinic acid).

We have to restock our “amber cake “supply about every 5 years using amber dust left over from the jewellery industry. For many years we had no immediate neighbours. Now with only one wild overgrown lot left to the South, we have to be considerate with timing and wind direction.

You can imagine the disappointment when we discovered that a shipment of amber dust was no longer pure. Was it adulterated with plastic as amber had become more and more popular? The contamination resulted in an unusable fused amber. Now we use amber fragments too small for jewelry and crush them in a mortar , or place them into a bag and smash them with a hammer before fusing.

We also prepare a good quantity of sun thickened walnut and linseed oil to have on hand. This will be boiled and combined with the now easily crushed fused resin and carefully heated until the “firm pill”, the polymerized stage is reached. The original recipe contains no thinner and needs to be filtered while warm.

Left without amber cakes for a season in 2017 we discovered TedN.’s oil varnish suggestion on Maestronet. It is made from pulverized FF grade pine resin combined with umber earth colour in linseed oil. Note the different set up . A baby jar containing the boiled linseed oil, crushed resin and umber earth is set into a tin filled with sand on the hot plate. The mixture reaches 300C within 30 minutes and foams strongly before reaching the firm pill stage. The relatively short and less energy intensive process results in a dark, pliable, stable varnish. Thank you Ted N!

I understand and respect other luthier’s fascination with antiquing. The various textures and colour contrasts add interest. The best copyists are starting with a perfectly evenly applied varnish and put on decades of wear via imagination and many risky operations.

However the aspect of rushing time in our inflationary epoch keeps me from pursuing the antiquing practice. My aim is for the instrument to look warm, alive and age well. The “tampon” method, i.e. using the hand to apply the pigmented layer, produces a flow of accumulation intensity, which I hope lends a lively shimmer to the surface.

I have played my first Canadian cello now for 30 years. The varnish composition comprises amber and mastic at a 1:1 ratio. There are textile imprints from hot summer days in an extra padded cloth case and I need to stay on top of the rosin accumulation on the belly. Amazingly I am able to rub out the cloth imprints by means of a cloth and elbow grease without loosing the colour. ( Not to be done on a sticky, hot summer day). The initial chestnut brown colour ( purple alizarin lake) is mostly intact. There is a bit of wear on the high contact areas and a tiny bit of natural craquelure on the base of the scroll . Mastic also convinces with a silky soft sheen.

Ever since 2003 ,the first Sweetwater Music Festival held annually in Leith /Owen Sound , artistic director Mark Fewer gave a nod to regional violin makers by including a showcase for new string instruments.

When it became clear in 2018, that Mark Fewer was taking on the Stratford Music Festival and would have to hand over AD for Sweetwater , we five “original” luthiers decided to collaborate on a baroque violin as a Thank You to Mark and a teaser for all our musical curiosity.

But what is a baroque violin? In the second half of 17th century the violin was the most popular instrument in Europe. However measurements or even construction methods varied. While the most active centres traded and influenced each other, different cities all used their own calibrations. Just as an example in my own home town of Speyer, the locally agreed on foot measures approx 11inches. It is marked on the “Altpörtel”, the entrance gate to the town.

None of us luthiers were likely going to be commissioned with a baroque violin, so to share the work was very enticing.  We wanted to follow a 17th century aesthetic and technology, hear it together and possibly meet it again down the road. We set some parameters:

We would have a wide fingerboard -not just a veneered facade on a modern neck; baroque style bridge and fully gut strings; slight bass bar and sound post; high arches with deep fluting early 17th century fashion;  We abandoned the idea of going back to the earliest- almost renaissance violins. The varnish would be “non antiqued” -aging by play and wear.

The neck would have to be nailed with square nails, Mark Schnurr had a black smith friend in mind ,since we didn’t want to pull them out of old buildings.

By October 2018 we had settled on the model: Everyone owned a poster of the elegant 1649 Alard  by Nicolo Amati. John Newton, who probably has the most affinity for- and practise with baroque music mused about string length and body size, when the suggestion arose of scaling up slightly  110% ( from 347mm length to 350mm).

There is a bit of fear connected with creating an instrument that will not project enough in modern performance ,especially when played in spaces, that are not supportive.

As for the material we all had experience with and trust in Canadian wood, which ties the instrument to our Grey/Bruce County environment. We chose maple with a density of.58 out of Lou Currah’s loft for neck , ribs, back as well as fingerboard – tailpiece borders and a piece of Engelman spruce for the top. All in all Canadian material.

In November we met at David Prentice’s shop in Flesherton. His uncluttered space allows for generously sized pieces of Suzette’s Godin’s amazing artwork to live and be shared. He showed us one of his many tricks on the cell, using it to project an image of a sound hole to resize and draw. We distributed the wood and figured out a possible sequence. Since David was leaving for Mexico, or possibly first for a trip to Italy at year’s end, he was tasked with scaling up the model and providing the mould and rib structure before departure.

Greg and myself were send on our way with the rib structure to cut out belly and back in early January. Greg worked the back, I got to sculpt the beautiful Engelman spruce donated by John Newton.. At this point we established the arching heights,17.8mm for belly and 17mm for the back. We pre cut the yet un shaped edges with 3mm overhang and 4.25 -4.5mm height to give Mark Schnurr the room needed for an even and graceful purfling, fluting and  the final edge work.

While edge work would often have been done after assembly of the instrument we deviated from the sequence: Transporting the neck and rib structure without mould between the workshops would have been hazardous. Not only was  Mark was a bit reluctant cutting the  purfling last on a cooperative instrument, I had never yet finished thicknessing and sound holes without the fluting established.

It was Marks turn to visit and pick up in Paisley, check out our tools and other work in progress in January.

John Newton, who had moved from Keady in Bruce County back to Toronto, took on the challenge of carving the scroll and providing the neck complex including the  decorated fingerboard ready to nail according to baroque practice. John ended up fabricating the attractive matching tail piece as well.

Many mails had to fly between us to establish neck length. Eventually we agreed on 127- 3mm shorter than modern standard, fingerboard /nut width (ca 27mm- 3-4 mm wider than modern) and neck angle as the neck would be nailed from inside to the finished rib structure through the top block , while the wedge of the fb could lift the neck angle. We ended up with a modern elevation of  27mm, a decision supported by Roger Hargrave’s excellent article ”period of adjustment”. Both John and David were travelling in Italy at the time. John went to see the Stradivari Medici tenor viola in it’s original fit up in Florence.

In early March Greg and I picked up the plates at Mark’s workshop, South of Flesherton. Mark had delineated the margins with an impeccably flowing final overhang, purfling and  fluting. It is always stimulating to  experience a different approach in an active workshop . We could lay a bow on Mark’s VSA prizewinning  Strad copy, put our heads together and enjoyed a wintery hike at Hoggs falls.

From here the work flowed easily. Carving the arch, sound holes and graduating is a luthier’s favourite process.

We were exchanging notes and showing stages . Mark suggested for me to nudge the sound holes “North “, which I managed, barely. The collaboration felt joyous all along. The instrument bears our marks with a lot of inspiration from Nicolo. Stop length, by the way, ended up at194mm.

Additionally I had lovely material on my hands and easily achieved a low weight with strong  stiffness: Finished top at a weight of 63g, with bass bar at 12 mm Mode 5 was 347 Hz F# and Mode 2 175Hz .  The others had joked that I needn’t fit a bar, just bend a strip of spruce perpendicular to grain. Well- I let Mark Schnurr fiddle with reducing the bar to his likes: Ultimately the bar at 7.5 mm height  M5 had gone to 305Hz with an M2of 165 Hz . The belly now weighed 61g.

Greg finished the back at 101.5 g the M5 peak lay around 378Hz, with M2 at 200Hz.

Mark Schnurr , who initiated the project took on the assembly of the instrument. He would pull it together not only stylistically by doing the purfling, edge work and varnishing, His job plainly was to make it into a violin, adjust it sound wise, fit it up with baroque bridge ,tail piece and gut strings.

With the square nails forged Mark had the adventurous task of attaching the neck and generally not buggering it up. ( cockeyed neck not an option)

By June the violin had tanned sufficiently and Mark layered on an even amber coloured varnish.

and then we didn’t hear until on August 22nd a message from Flesherton landed in our mailbox:

“Hey all, Just a heads up. I strung up the Amati today and took it over to David’s for a “test”. Sounds pretty darn good ,and I don’t think I could be happier.Thanks again all. Mark.”

“A great result. It was exciting to hear it. Sounds like a modern fiddle in sheeps clothing. See you all soon. David”

The  Monday  before Sweetwater weekend had us track down possible wooden cases to hand over our gift. An air cushioned modern suspension case was out of the question. Let the violin be subjected to the wear from play and case, though John cringed at the roughness of the antiques.

We opted for a naked wooden trunk and as I moved the violin in the case to demonstrate the necessity for a swaddling cloth, I inflicted its first scar on the back before a label was even installed.

Saturday after the luthier showcase the gift fell into Mark Fewer’s capable hands -a genuine surprise.

Super gratifying for the makers was the first performance the next day with visiting baroque violinist Adrian Butterfield playing it alongside incoming artistic director Edwin Hudzinga in the Vivaldi Gloria. The violin sparkled in the  Roxy Owen Sound, which is a former cinema and adapted performance space. And so it will find occasion to ring out in the future.

Of course we dream and then plan our next instrument carefully. A cello in particular represents a substantial investment in time and for me at least the procedures need to fit into the cycle of the year.

For this latest cello I decided to go for a low top arch of no more than 24mm such as Sacconi describes in his pivotal book “I secreti di Stradivari”. I do not have access to a classic Stradivari cello and in spite of using a 1717 Stradivari outline – purportedly off the Amaryllis Fleming Stradivari -I have never seen a Strad cello from this period life.

The Canada Council Instrument Bank owns a gorgeous 1696 Strad cello -the “Bonjour”,which has an impressive 32 mm top arch. However crafting an arch of minimal height yet strong and resilient was to be my challenge .

Instead I decided to look at two Vuillaume cellos in Toronto for inspiration. Jean Baptiste Vuillaume was a talented craftsman and the earliest consummate copyist of classical Cremonese instruments, who as a dealer also would have had the originals next to him.

Thanks to the Sound Post and to Roman Borys for letting me spent a couple of hours measuring investigating and photographing their cellos ,incidentally made on the same outline in 1869 and 1868 respectively.

 I focused on the arching curves and the positioning of the sound holes. I admire the sculpting of these lean archings,which might have settled ,but have not distorted or sunken.

Understanding and assimilating three dimensional curved structures is the aim, but I also took note of some seemingly pedestrian measurements such as edge heights and rib heights. With the help of a Hacklinger gauge I  found the dimensions of the blocks, the thicknesses of the plates near the edges and around the ff ‘s in comparison with the average dimension.

With a low top arch I needed to recalibrate, as the ensemble is affected by everything. It is the beauty and the curse of the art.

In many ways the sound responded to my imagination: A velvety sound with an easy even response.The Canadian Red Maple back became the wild card bringing extra depth and darkness.