CELLO JOURNAL PAGE 1 |
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I started a cello on Christmas morning 2013. It's a new model for me. A forma B Stradivarius based on the Countess of Stanlein, played for many years by Bernhard Greenhouse of the Beaux Arts Trio. Previously I've used a Guadagnini model. Shorter and wider across the C-bouts. I used to consider the forma B a bit on the narrow side, but as with most things Stradivari, I've come around. |
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Here are the internal blocks being glued onto the mould. I cut them from red willow, a lightweight wood with very homogenous grain, making it easy to carve. I've left the blocks slightly higher than usual as I plan to give this cello relatively high ribs. The rectangle cutout in the mould allows for convenient clamping. |
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The blocks are carved and the C-bout ribs have been bent and glued in. You can see the shaping iron clamped to the bench on the right that I use to heat and bend the ribs. I'm using poplar instead of maple for the ribs and the back of this cello. I've got a nice one-piece of matching light-weight Italian poplar for the back. Stradivari used a similar type of wood on the Marquis de Corberon. |
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The rib structure is complete. The willow linings are glued in as well, stabalizing the curves of the ribs enough that I've traced it's outline onto the poplar back and cut it out. This is the first time I see the results of the choices made when carving the curves of the corner and end blocks. |
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The rough arching of the back is coming along quickly. It's a real pleasure to work with the creamy texture of the poplar. There's also a nice tight flaming figure streaking across the wood that I hadn't expected which, under the right varnish, should be spectacular. Once I'm satisfied with the arching, I flip the back over and begin scooping out the inside. I'll be leaving this back with a healthy thickness all around since poplar is less dense than maple. I'll stay nearly a centimeter thick in the center, thinning to around 3,5mm/4 mm in the bouts; it will still be lighter than most maple backs. |
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This is the practical manner in which linings are glued to the ribs. They are made of willow strips about a centimeter tall and 2mm thick, increasing the gluing surface for the back and belly. You can see the lower set of them already present two posts previous. Here, the back is glued on and although you can't see it, the internal mould has been removed. Detaching the blocks from the mould and then slowly wriggling it up through the ribs and out of the cello is always an exciting process. With the heavy mould gone you're left with a surprisingly lightweight cello "boat". |
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Downstairs from the workshop, getting inspiration from yet another forma B Stradivari cello, along with my son Julius. |
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And my daughter, Otilla, trying out a violin with enthusiastic cello technique. |
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Here is one half of the cello top yet to be joined. I get all my spruce from Ciresa, located in the Fiemme Valley in northern Italy. I drove down two years ago and returned with a van full of tonewood. This is one of my last cello tops, so another scenic trip awaits in the near future. |
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This is the view from my workshop, overlooking the Laurenskerk in the center of Weesp. The very characteristic carillon bells perform a different melody for each quarter hour. The white building in front used to be a cigar factory. |
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1615 Brothers Amati Cello |
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Well, my camera ran out of batteries and it was a few days before I could find the charger, so....... the top arching is now complete and the f-holes have been designed and drawn on. Instead of using a Stradivari f-hole as a template, I've chosen an f-hole from a 1615 Brothers Amati cello. This style f-hole is very similar to Stradivari and in it I see the basis from which his pattern evolved. |
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Carved channels across the inside of the top and the resulting pile of spruce chips/shavings from the last few days of work. You can see the scroll peeking out from behind the mountain, ready to be sculpted. The tree stump on the right came back from Italy with me in the van and makes a good foot-rest. It grew in the same forest as the shavings. |
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So, I've spot glued the top on and suddenly there's a convincing cello-box on the workbench! When the top is just roughly thicknessed to around 6mm I already cut the f-holes and glue it onto the "boat", allowing me to work on the arching around the f-holes and the fluting over the purfling with confidence that I'm not going too thin; a trick I've picked up after an unfortunate experience years ago. At this point I decide on the amount of overhang the plates will have and cut the corners to shape. These "details" have great effect on the character of an instrument's outline, and now that that outline has been finalised, it's time for purfling. Notice the full breadth of the ribs contrasting with the relatively low, full arching of the plates; an acoustic combination I'm quite excited to hear. |
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Oh, the stories this workbench could tell. Made from unused planks I "salvaged" from an abandoned highway construction project near Parma, it's nearly 10cm thick and sturdy as a house. In my previous workshop, in Amsterdam, it still served as my primary working surface, but I've now relegated it for the rough planing and sawing. Although it's surface may be beat up it's still true as a level. |
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On violins and violas, I cut the purfling channel and insert the purfling while the instrument is still spot glued together, but when working on a cello, I find it more comfortable to pop the plates off using this modified palette knife and then clamp them directly to the bench. |
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This is the complete arsenal of tools I use during the purfling process. Sometimes nothing does a job better than a good old Stanley "exacto" knife. |
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I always try to complete the purfling of a plate in one go. Working quickly and with purpose naturally imparts an organic character to the flow of the purfling. The channel is filled, section by section, with hot hide glue and then the purfling strips are pounded in with a rather delicate hammer. |
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Once the purfling has been glued in and drying for at least 3 hours, I begin to carve the edge fluting. I've scribed a line halfway between the purfling and the edge both as a guide and to help prevent breakout should I carve against the grain. The resulting curled shavings are elegant and delicate. |
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