A sound that’s ringing true

Second in an occasional series. The Daily Progress will chart the journey of two local artists as they try to reproduce a Pietro Antonio Landolfi violin.

For more than a century, an ever-changing symphony of wind and rain strengthened and nourished an Engleman spruce growing in the high country of western Oregon.

After life left the towering tree, it was harvested carefully in order for it to live again. Reborn, its painstakingly crafted wood will make up the most important acoustical element of stringed instruments.

Today, pie-shaped wedges from the tree are about to undergo a remarkable metamorphosis in the skilled hands of violinmaker Oded Kishony. For more than 15 years, he has coveted the wood, identified in faded green crayon as E-153.

Before the wood came into the luthier’s possession, it had dried for several years in an open-sided shed that allows free movement of air. Since then the pieces have rested in the unheated attic of Kishony’s Albemarle County home, awaiting their transfiguration into a world-class violin.

On a recent spring morning the wedges were selected for the making of a violin based on an exquisite instrument created around 1775 by Italian violinmaker Pietro Antonio Landolfi. Kishony and Max Rabinovitsj, the owner of the valuable Landolfi, selected both the spruce and maple that will make up the twin.

Spruce will be used for the top, or belly, of the violin, and maple for the ribs, neck and back. Kishony said that, acoustically, the spruce is the most significant part of the instrument, because it’s responsible for spreading the vibrations throughout the violin.

“Choosing the right wood is the foundation of everything you build on,” Kishony said as he held a wedge of E-153 in his hands. “Some people believe a good violinmaker can overcome marginal wood, but it’s always better to put on nice sneakers before you start a race.

“The thing about this piece of wood is that it’s very light, very stiff and has wonderful acoustical properties. The sound comes off the entire instrument, but maple is less critical in terms of its acoustical properties.

“It’s acoustically important, yes, but I’ll go more by looks rather than acoustical measurements when I’m selecting maple. And I’ll buy it more opportunistically at shows, conventions and competitions, where there’s always someone selling wood.”

Spruce is a different matter. Kishony’s suppliers will send him a data sheet with information on various pieces of spruce available. It will include a multitude of measurements such as weight, stiffness, density and the speed at which sound moves through the wood, which is registered on a Lucchi meter.

When Kishony read the data sheet and received a sample of the wood E-153 came from, he was so impressed he bought what was left of the log. Spruce is a tonal wood, and to an experienced ear, much can be learned by tapping a finger against the wedge.

Rabinovitsj held a wedge of E-153 about a quarter way down from the top. A light tap from his finger produced a clear ringing sound.

The world-renowned concert violinist noted that the pitch of the ring was sustained slightly longer in E-153 than in another wedge marked E-159. The distinction would have likely gone unnoticed to all but the most acutely trained ear.

But it’s these subtle, barely whispered nuances that ultimately will make the difference between an excellent violin and a bona fide masterpiece. For 30 years Rabinovitsj owned and played one of the great violins of the world — a Stradivarius made in 1736 by the great master Antonio Stradivari.

In some aspects, such as color of sound, he considers his Landolfi more than an equal to the Strad. To give the new violin even a chance of approaching that magnitude of musical quality, selecting the right pieces of spruce is critical.

“The main thing for me is to tap the wood to see if it has a good reflection of sound,” said Rabinovitsj who for more than 50 years has performed in the world’s greatest concert halls. “You can hear if it’s a high-pitched sound or low-pitched in the middle.

“For instance, the Landolfi would be much more of a middle — not very soprano, and not a dark sound either. And the resistance of the wood has to be there. The back of my Strad was unusual in that it was made of poplar wood.

“The poplar made it much more easy for it to speak, so it was much less work to play. But the sound was not quite as deep and beautiful as the violins that use maple for the back. Every piece of wood is so different. So much of it is a matter of tactile feeling.”

After more than 30 years of making superb violins, violas and cellos, Kishony continues to stand in wonder at the nearly unimaginable complexity each encompasses. Although the two pieces of spruce that will be joined together to make the top of the violin came from the same tree, and are identical to the eye, they vary at the molecular level.

“One of the things I test spruce tops for is their specific gravity, which means how much are they going to weigh after I finish carving them,” Kishony said. “I do that by dipping them in a bucket of water, and when they float I can measure the amount of water displaced and calculate very simply the specific gravity in each piece of wood.

“I’ve done this with two pieces of wood from the same tree that had been split off from one another. They matched perfectly, but when I measured their specific gravity, each was different.

“That’s how individual each piece of wood is. Because of that you have to treat each piece as an individual.”

A great deal of myth and magical thinking has been imbued in the craft of violin making since the great Italian masters began to elevate the instrument to near perfection more than 400 years ago.

Kishony is a realist and believes physics, not magic, is what enables a great violin to emerge from its cocoon of wood and lift human hearts with its musical voice.

“One of the myths that has been discounted over the years has to do with old and new woods,” Kishony said. “For instance, violinmakers would run to buy old wood or European wood.

“Well, it turned out that a lot of the European wood was actually harvested here in America, sent to Europe and then sold back to American makers. And I don’t subscribe to the idea that the wood has to be a hundred years old or something.

“What I feel is very important is that this spruce came from a tree that had died vertically, and had been standing for a while in that way. These trees tend to be a little lighter and stiffer than spruce that has fallen over.

“And they also tend to be free of any fungus. As soon as a log falls on the forest floor, funguses immediately start to grow, and they stain the wood and cause all kinds of problems.”

Although Kishony discounts the magic factor in violin making, he believes there’s certainly a place for religion. Experience has taught him that a full understanding of what is acoustically at work in great violins is, at least for now, beyond the ability of mortals to comprehend.

“A lot of violin making involves a kind of religion,” Kishony said with a smile and knowing lift of the brow. “You make up reasons for things and sometimes they’re accurate and sometimes they’re not, because the acoustics of the violin are so overwhelmingly complex.

“For example we know that frequency squared times mass equals stiffness. But the frequency you choose changes the interpretation. And we know that when you tap the wood of a violin top, parts of it bend and parts of it stretch.

“The parts that stretch are calculated differently, and do different things than the parts that bend. You see? It’s unbelievable.”