“Art of Craft” is a series depicting the work of craftsmen who have reached the level of art.
When Ayong Ahn was 8 years old, her parents bought her a violin. She slept every night with her instrument next to her pillow.
Two years later, a store selling musical instruments opened in her hometown of Pyeongtaek, South Korea, and Anne became a regular there, raising questions about the owner. “I think I caused him a lot of trouble,” said Anne, now 32.
As a teenager, she decided to become a violin maker. Ultimately, her twists and turns led her to Cremona in northern Italy. Cremona has been famous since the 16th century as a base for violin makers, including masters like Antonio Stradivari. There, Anne, a rising star in the world of violin making who has won international awards, runs her own workshop.
Anne's studio, located on a quiet cobblestone street, is flooded with natural light and is filled with piles of books and chunks of wood that are at risk of warping if they are not air-dried for five to 10 years before being turned into musical instruments. She shares her two-room studio with her husband, Wangsu Han, also a violin maker.
On a recent Monday, Ann was crouched on a 20-inch-thick piece of wood held in place by two metal clamps. She pushed her body down for leverage, scraped the wood with her gouge to remove layers, and kept her hands steady and steady. She had formed a curved neck called a “scroll”, one of her later stages of making violins and cellos. On this day, violin makers were busy commissioning cellos that shared a similar construction process.
Violins like Anne, made in the tradition of Stradivari and Giuseppe Guarneri, require about two months of work and sell for about 16,000 to 17,000 euros, or $17,500 to $18,500. “I could make a violin in three weeks, but I don't want to,'' Anne said. “This object is extremely valuable to the purchaser.”
Anne was 17 years old when she planned to learn the craft. She attended a local high school, mastered English, and eventually moved to an American family in the Chicago suburbs to study at the Chicago School of Violin Making. At that time, there were no such schools in Korea. Her parents were distraught that she moved far away to pursue her uncertain career path and tried to stop her.
“I hadn’t eaten anything for days,” Anne said. “Her parents were crying when we said goodbye to her at the airport,” she said. “I wasn't. I was too excited.”
Two years after moving to Illinois, she discovered that one of the most prestigious schools for violin makers, the International School of Violin Making, was actually located in Cremona. So in 2011, at the age of 20, she moved to a new country again.
Cremona was home to some of the most famous luthiers and makers in history. Andrea Amati is considered the “father of the violin.” And the Guarneri family. Today, for the 160 to 200 violin makers in Cremona, virtuoso sound quality remains the ultimate goal. “Traditional methods are not meant for experimentation,” Ang says.
Around the studio, small pots of pigments for varnishes were placed on shelves and tables alongside jars of polishing powders (ground glass and minerals). There were dozens of knives, chisels, and saws on the walls. There are also dentist tools for scratching instruments to give them a more antique look.
Anne is the youngest member of a Cremonese consortium dedicated to preserving the tradition of violin making. She is immersed in the Cremonese method of violin making and, at the suggestion of her mentor, created the artist name Anna Arrietty to better fit Italian culture.
The key moment is when the luthier puts a label on the inside of the instrument called the “baptism”. To create the labels, Anne stamps an ink signature onto a small piece of paper. This is the brown pages of an old book and shows its age. The labels are then applied to the inside of the instrument halves using a traditional homemade mixture of melted cowhide and rabbit skin as a long-lasting adhesive. She also burns her own signature onto her instruments with a small heated brand.
The two halves are then sealed together to complete the body of the instrument. Her Italian artist name will remain as long as the violin exists.
“That's why I wanted to be a violin maker,” Anne said. “People who play my violin will still remember me 100 or 200 years from now.”