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. |