John Dilworth Violins

Only just got in before the end of the month this time. Time seems to be on the flood just now, as is the river a few hundred yards way… and closing. Lots of exciting things happening professionally. I’m very happy to say that I’ve been asked to act as a consultant to the Dextra Musica foundation of Norway, which holds a wonderful collection of instruments. The foundation is dedicated to bringing fine instruments to the best players in Norway and encouraging musical education. I’m very proud to be involved in a small but hopefully significant way.
Another exhibition by the wonderful Amati.com looms in March, at the luxurious Lansdowne Club in London. Significant for me as we will be launching the Monograph publications I have been working on with James Buchanan (the Boss), John Milnes (the Brains) and J.& A. Beare. We aim to produce four volumes per year, each one describing one worthy instrument in fine detail and glorious photography.
Another forthcoming publication is the work on Spanish makers by Jorge Pozas. More deadlines. Jorge hopes to have something ready to show at Mondomusica in September. I am working on my contribution, greatly helped by the startling dendrochronological revelations of expert Peter Ratcliffe. Which has made me think a lot about wood…
Dendrochronology generally seems to suggest quite short seasoning times for most classical makers. The idea that violin wood should be as old and aged as possible seems to be on the retreat. Where did it come from? Was it really only Vuillaume who started it all, with his ‘Swiss Chalet’ wood?
But here I am, with a challenging commission to make a copy of the delicious ‘Alard’ Stradivari. Hunting through my wood store I looked again at the old (and I mean OLD) Hill workshop pieces I was given many years ago. I found nice match. Thing is, it’s dark tar brown. Almost black. You can just read the writing on it, which says ‘July 1894, 4/9’. Which means one hundred and twenty years ago it cost W.E.Hill round about 25p. It’s beautiful wood. I used some to make a copy of the ‘Wilton’ del Gesu some time ago, which turned out to be one of my favourite pieces of work. So I’m happy to use it for special occasions. The depth of colour goes right through the wood, a wonderful base for varnish. I’ve jointed it and it’s nearly ready to cut out. We’ll see how it goes.

Christmas is in sight, one more cello to complete. The final one for this year, an impression of the wonderful Gore Booth Stradivari of 1710 which I have had the good fortune to study. I’ve spent most of this year making, repairing or just looking at cellos, but next year starts with work on a copy of the Alard Stradivari violin. It should be a welcome change as long as I can still focus well enough to see the little thing clearly. The Alard was one of the most beautiful of the violins at the Ashmolean Exhibition, one of the great and memorable highlights of the year- well, to be honest, my entire career. I have some rather nice old wood, a deep nut brown all the way through, which comes from a small and limited source I’ve used sparingly in the past. So no room to mess up. SuperHubert is still putting up with me, there seems no respite in the auctions and the number of curious and interesting instruments passing through the workshop, so next year, I hope, will be full of variety and new things to learn, make and write about. And not so many missed deadlines.
Merry Christmas and a happy and prosperous New Year to everyone.

The highlight of this last month was a trip to Madrid to meet Jorge Pozas, violin maker and cellist extraordinaire, to examine a wonderful collection of Spanish violins. Some marvellous and sadly underestimated makers- Contreras, Ortega, Assenzio, Bofill. Beautiful Italianate style and full of personality. His book should be a real eye-opener. A lot of work, but Jorge is a dedicated man. And a great host! I didn’t go hungry. Or thirsty.
Back at home, SuperHube is back from summer break and teaching at West Dean College, so things are in full swing in the workshop. Another cello ready for the varnish cabinet, though apologies due to my client, who seems to have been waiting patiently for rather longer than I realised.

Also we have a splendid Gofriller for restoration, a lovely old basetto which has been horrifically cut-down in the past. It really hurts to see what has been done, the edges ruthlessly hacked off and reglued randomly some distance further in. Nothing much possible other than to neaten it up as much as we can and provide it with a more dignified and secure edge. Too late to restore it to it’s full, original size. The varnish is still gorgeous.

Getting to know more luthiers via Facebook lately- I am catching up with the 21st century. Another cello is in the sun lounge getting a nice tan. This one is a copy of Paul Watkins’ glorious sounding (or perhaps it is Paul who is glorious sounding?) Venetian cello, attributed to Sanctus Serafin and Montagnana. What a combination! It has been cut, which gives it a slightly odd character, but is now a very comfortable player-friendly instrument, without the intimidating bulk of a grand Montagnana. Paul is now playing the original in the Emerson Quartet, which means we won’t see so much of him here, sadly. The gorgeous Stradivari ‘Bass of Spain’, only for little while longer on display at the Ashmolean, is next on my list of challenges. Super Hubert off on hard-earned holiday now, leaving me to do all the sweeping up this month. Perhaps I won’t bother and see what a state we’re in when he gets back.

Order emerging from chaos in the workshop here. A visitor recently described the place as ‘a mess’, hastily correcting it to ‘a very creative mess’. Well, I know where everything is. But at odd times something emerges that I consider ‘finished’- a purely relative term- and it goes out into the world, which also seems to be in a bit of a mess, mostly.
There seems to be a sudden flurry of ‘media interest’ building up to the Ashmolean Stradivari exhibition later this month. Several journalists and researchers calling up for soundbites, but quickly put off by my over-earnest account of 400 years of violin making history. They just want to know the secret of Strad in two sentences or less. So I eventually gave in and told them. I’m not telling anyone else though…..
I notice with slight panic that varnish stocks are running low since my last brew in… 2006 it says here. Hmmm. So clear the decks, break out the esoteric liquors and oils, July is going to be boiling.