Ann Arbor violin makers celebrate new era
begun
by record price paid for one of their pieces
By Dave Wilkins
Ann Arbor News, November 1993
In
a naturally lit room in a modern house of wood and window a few blocks
south of the University of Michigan campus, Gregg Alf is hunched over
a chiseled piece of maple that will become the back of a meticulously
handcrafted violin.
Alf’s
tools are scattered about the workbench – chisels, files, a compass,
a template, a glue-pot, a wad of steel wool. Wood shavings are underfoot. Late
morning light tiptoes in from the south and east.
The work – painstaking,
solitary, meditative – requires an engineer’s precision and an
artist’s touch.
Alf and
his partner Joseph Curtin, each make roughly one violin per month. They typically
work on commission for soloists and orchestral musicians. Their instruments
start at $15,000.
Earlier
this month at Sotheby’s auction house in London, a Curtin & Alf instrument
rocked the music world, bringing the highest price ever paid for a violin crafted
by a living maker. Maltese violinist Carmine Laurine paid a total of $33,000
to acquire a Curtin & Alf replica of a 1716 Stadivarius.
The instrument’s
previous owner, soloist Elmar Oliveria, put it up for for auction after he
bought a Curtin & Alf replica of a violin made by Guarneri del Gesu in
1726.
Joseph Curtin
and Gregg Alf moved to Ann Arbor from Cremona, Italy, eight years ago. The
world-record sale at Sotheby’s bolstered their international reputation
as makers of top-end instruments.
It also
has Curtin and Alf’s colleagues and competitors celebrating, the pair
says, because the sale signifies a new respect and appreciation for contemporary
violins.
“We
are heroes among our fellow violin makers,” Alf says. “It’s
opened the door for a new era in violin making.”
Two roads, one destiny
Alf,
who is 36, was born in Encino, Califo., one of three sons of a social worker
and an educational psychologist.
“There
was a love of music in my family,’ he says.” I heard music all
the time.”
Alf’s
grandfathers both played the violin and each left him their instrument, which
he sold to support himself while studying in Cremona, Italy – home of
the great masters including Stradivari and Guarneri.
Curtin was
born 40 years ago in Toronto, one of six children of a visual artist and a
photographer.
Both men
studied the violin, but ultimately gave up their dreams of the concert stage
and found their destiny at the workbench. Both had mentors – Alf in Washington,
D.C., Curtin in his native Toronto – who inspired them to become violin
makers.
“Growing
up, I tried to make everything I was interested in – from a tape recorder
to a ventriloquist’s dummy,’ Curtin says. “I had millions
of unfinished projects. I never finished anything until I finished a violin.”
He set up
his first shop in a Toronto apartment and waited tables to raise money for
tools.
Curtin and
Alf met at an international competition sponsored by the Violin Society of
America. The sublime sound of Alf’s instruments earned him gold medals
in three such competitions in his early years, giving him a reputation that
helped his fledging shop in Cremona prosper.
Curtin joined
him there in mid-1980s, but they soon moved to the United States to have better
access to a good market and great violins for study.
With prodding
and encouragement from University of Michigan music professors Robert Culver
and Ruggiero Ricci, they set up shop in Ann Arbor.
“We
liked it because it was a small town – comfortable and quaint in some
ways – but it was a very cultured town,” Alf says.
They brought
with them a supply of Italian maple and spruce harvested from the same groves
that supplied Stradivari.
An apprenticeship
In the spring
and summer of 1990, Curtin and Alf were able to study a 1716 Stradivari. They
made plaster casts, photographed the details, took precise measurements – and
built the replica sold at Sotheby’s this month with the original on hand
as a guide.
Seven times
they have built a replica that way – while having extensive access to
some of the rarest violins in the world, including instruments by Stradivari,
Guarneri and Gasparo da Salo.
These are
the only projects Curtin and Alf tackle together. Otherwise, each works on
his own instruments – making antiqued copies of the models they have
closely studied.
“It’s
not just slavishly copying,” Curtin says. “We’re intensely
trying to understand (the masters’) thoughts and feelings and what they
couldn’t know about mechanics and acoustics.”
“We
want to take things a step ahead,” he says. “Our goal certainly
is to develop our own distinct model. Matisse spent 10 years in the Louvre
copying paintings…Stradivari’s golden period was in his 60s.”
“This
is an apprenticeship.”
Sharing and trust
Sharon
Que, one of three assistants who work for Curtin and Alf, says the
two men complement each other.
“It’s
totally like a marriage,” Que says. “There’s one person who’s
really good at one thing and one who’s really good at something else
- and so it’s a better whole.”
Curtin,
for example, brings a talent for design and aesthetics including an impressive
touch with varnishes. Alf has a gift for getting exquisite sound quality from
the wood.
Curtin keeps
the shop running smoothly; Alf handles the marketing.
“Together,
it’s an impressive arsenal,” Curtin says. “It’s a balance,
and it’s often been a difficult one. I resist other people’s input.”
Despite
that, they have developed a sense of sharing and trust, he says: “It’s
wonderful having an ally in eh business.”
A new era?
The
sale at Sotheby’s marks a change in the way musicians acquire
violins, Curtin and Alf say.
Classic
antique violins are increasingly out-of-reach, so musicians are beginning to
bypass dealers in fine old instruments and explore top-end contemporary violins
with concert sound.
“The
musicians have spoken,” Alf says of the sale. “A statement was
made.”
If that’s
true, then Curtin and Alf are in the forefront of the new era- with violins
built upon their combined talents, musical training, early years in Cremona,
and opportunities to pore over some of the world’s greatest violins.
They are
instruments that likely will be played for generations, that may outlive their
makers.
“There
is something a little awe-inspiring about it,” Curtin says.
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