A FAMILY AFFAIR

In this globalised era, there are still many families that keep up their strong lutherie traditions, with parents passing on their secrets and skills to the next generation. Peter Somerford asks how such formative influences can affect their craft, for better or for worse

From Amati, Rugeri and Guarneri to Pfretzschner, Nürnberger and Knopf, dynasties and long family traditions have always been part of violin and bow making. It is evident that making can still be very much a family trade, and not just in Italy or Germany, from the third-, fourth- or even fifth-generation makers working across the world today. But whereas historically a son might have only learnt from his father, or as an apprentice to another master, young makers now have a far wider range of influences – from violin making schools to time spent in making and restoration workshops abroad, and then all the possibilities of travel, interaction and sharing knowledge, with courses, conferences and the internet. While a young maker would once have joined the family firm, now there is more of a push towards independence at an early age. Yet even with the expectation that the new generation will make their own mark and develop their own style, modern-day dynasties are also characterised by strong connections and influences that reach across generations.

Third-generation makers Dario II and Lapo Vettori in Florence, and their sister Sofia, who relocated from Florence to Indianapolis in 2020, never knew their grandfather, but the way he built his making career continues to be an inspiration to them. Dario I Vettori was born and lived all his life in Firenzuola, a small village in the mountains between Florence and Bologna. ‘We grew up making violins in the 2000s, when interest in the internet was exploding in Italy, so we had many connections easily available,’ says Dario II. ‘Our grandfather built his first violin after opening up his own instrument and seeing how it was made inside. Because he was quite isolated he had only a limited exposure to other people’s work. So his vision of being a violin maker despite all this has been a big influence on us.’

Czech luthier Přemsyl Otakar Špidlen with son Jan in 1974; Mila and Paolo Vettori in 1977; Argentinian luthier Arne Angel Karinkanta with his grandson Martín in 1986;

Cremona-based maker Stefano Conia with his son, also Stefano

Other makers grew up close to their grandfathers, visiting their workshops, and having formative making experiences alongside them. Violin maker Stefano Conia Jr, from Cremona, made his first instrument in his grandfather’s workshop in Hungary at the age of 14, during a two-month stay in 1987.

Dresden-based bow maker Daniel Schmidt spent many hours in his grandfather’s bow making workshop when he was a child, and briefly worked with him when he was in his early twenties. ‘After he died in 1990 I was privileged to take over all his old wood and most of his workshop equipment and furniture,’ says Schmidt. ‘I’m still working with some of his tools today.’

Inheriting workshop inventory and old, seasoned tonewood is a common thread through generations, but trade secrets and varnish recipes have also been passed down. Sofia Vettori still uses a scraping technique that her grandfather taught her father Paolo. ‘In the 1930s my grandfather could not source any metal scrapers, so he used glass instead,’ she says.

‘He learnt how to break glass to make scrapers from a shoemaker in his village. A scraper made from broken glass costs nothing, and you never need to sharpen it. I use it for thinning ribs, for arching, scroll and neck work. You can either cut wood straight, or if you twist as you go, you can make a more rounded cut.’

The advantage of using old varnish recipes, even though younger generations have evolved them over the years and adapted finishes to suit more modern tastes, is that makers today know how their instruments will look in the future. Sofia Vettori says: ‘We are still using old recipes, and from the appearance of my grandfather’s violins I can be sure how one of my violins will look 80 years from now. I like trying new approaches, such as antiquing, which is something my grandfather would never have done. But I know, from his instruments, how the varnish will react over many years.’

FROM THE APPEARANCE OF MY GRANDFATHER’S VIOLINS I CAN BE SURE HOW ONE OF MY VIOLINS WILL LOOK 80 YEARS FROM NOW’

If the current generation in luthier families learnt the most from their fathers and were inspired by them to enter the trade, it also seems as if their destinies have as much to do with their grandfathers’ lives and choices. Buenos Aires violin maker Daniel Karinkanta’s grandfather Hannes Vitalis Karinkanta, a Finnish immigrant to Argentina, was a self-taught repairer and maker. He only started making violins after his son Arne Angel – a student violinist who went on to play in professional orchestras before establishing his own violin making workshop – needed his instrument repaired. ‘My father and grandfather took the violin, which had an open crack, to Luigi Rovatti, a renowned Italian luthier in Buenos Aires,’ says Daniel. ‘Rovatti advised him to buy a new violin from him, rather than spend money on repairing a lower-quality instrument. Instead my grandfather decided to mend the violin himself, which was the beginning of a lifelong passion for repairing and making violins.’

The Conias varnishing outside the Cremona workshop

Had it not been for the Second World War, Daniel Schmidt says that his father, the bow maker Hans-Karl Schmidt, would have become a violin maker like his grandfather, Rudolf Schmidt. In addition to being a violin maker, Hans-Karl’s father was a musician who played seven instruments including cello, piano and bassoon. He was drafted into the army and played as a bassoonist in the Luftwaffe Orchestra. The entire orchestra was flown to the Eastern front in 1943, and Rudolf Schmidt was later declared missing in action, probably killed by partisans in Slovakia. After the war, Daniel Schmidt’s grandmother, who herself came from a Klingenthal bow making family, married the bow maker Kurt Dölling, who was trained by Pfretzschner student Emil Max Penzel. ‘For me, Kurt Dölling was like my grandfather,’ says Daniel Schmidt. ‘He had one student in all his lifetime – his stepson, my father, who decided to become a bow maker at the age of 14.’

‘MY POSITION WAS THAT I WAS THE REBEL AND MY FATHER WAS THE CONSERVATIVE – BUT THIS CONFLICT WAS VERY USEFUL’ 

Dario I Vettori was lucky to survive the war. His village of Firenzuola was on the Gothic Line, a German defensive line during the Italian campaign. Allied bombing in August 1944 destroyed his house and many of his instruments, although he saved some of them before the American advance. ‘My grandfather knew something big was about to happen because he could see the Germans making preparations,’ says Dario II Vettori. ‘He buried some instruments in clay amphoras used for olive oil, and was later able to recover them. The Americans stayed in Firenzuola over the winter, and my grandfather was able to trade several violins with the soldiers. He exchanged these instruments for boots, sugar and coffee – commodities that hadn’t been available in Italy for years.’

The direct influence of makers on their offspring is often balanced by young makers gaining early independence and control of their direction, and accessing outside influences. Czech violin maker Jan Špidlen’s father, Přemysl Otakar Špidlen, did not want to teach his son the basics of making, so sent him to study in Mittenwald. Returning to Prague after just one year, Jan trained with his father for two years before spending a year in London at J.&A. Beare, where he learnt about restoration and was surrounded by high-quality instruments. Both experiences abroad led to some ‘reverse teaching’, he says. ‘My father was taught to use external moulds, and was used to using them, but in Mittenwald I learnt to use interior moulds. When I returned from Mittenwald I explained how to use internal moulds, because that way was closer to that of the Italian school. And after my year in London I was also able to teach my father some restoration techniques. But when it came to new making, he taught me the tricks, and also his varnishing expertise, which he wouldn’t share with anyone else.’

Mila Vettori in 1979 

Vettori family in 1994

And in 2010

Left–right Lapo, Paolo, Sofia and Dario Vettori today

Hannes Vitalis Karinkanta in c.1945

Arne Angel Karinkanta in 1974

Daniel Alberto Karinkanta with son Martin in 1992

Jan had his own ideas about violin innovation which his father did not like, but their contrasting thoughts led to productive discussions. ‘My position was that I was the rebel, and he was the conservative,’ he says. ‘But this conflict was very useful for my understanding of how the violin works.’

Daniel Karinkanta studied woodworking at a design school and started his career as a maker of electric guitars before turning to violin making under his father Arne’s guidance. Arne had studied making with his father, but was also influenced by the work of several Italian luthiers who had settled in Buenos Aires, among them Luigi Rovatti and Dante Baldoni. ‘As a violinist in important orchestras, my father was in close contact with international soloists,’ adds Karinkanta, ‘and they came to rely on him for sound adjustments and repair work.’

English violin maker Peter Beare took a different direction from his father, the renowned violin expert Charles Beare, and has focused on new making while working alongside his father in the family business Beare Violins Ltd, which was founded in 1892 and is now based in Kent.

‘Business-wise, you would always hope to do better than your parents,’ he says. ‘I would have always been frustrated if I had tried to do what he does, in the expertise field, and not done it as well. But his passion and respect for old instruments, and for figuring out who actually made them, has rubbed off on me.’

The everyday exposure to great players’ instruments as part of working in the family business has been inspirational, adds Beare. ‘To see the actual instrument on the bench instead of in a photo or behind glass in a museum is brilliant in its own right but can also be an influence on your making. And restoration, too, helps your making more than you might think.’

Beare credits his father with helping him access all the best direct influences, while never trying to encourage him into the business. ‘In most families the son would be watching the father making at his bench, whereas my father was showing me the direction I could take if I decided violin making was what I wanted to do. So he suggested I go to the Salt Lake City violin making school, where he was an examiner. And then he helped me to work with Carl Becker and Přemysl Otakar Špidlen, both of whom were exceptional makers in different ways.’

‘BUSINESS-WISE, YOU WOULD ALWAYS HOPE TO DO BETTER THAN YOUR PARENTS’ 

Several generations of the Beare family:company founders John 

Arthur Beare; 

William A. Beare, who died in 2000; 

current owners Peter and Charles Beare

‘IT’S GREAT TO HAVE THE SUPPORT BEHIND YOU OF ALL THE PREVIOUS GENERATIONS, BUT IT’S IMPORTANT TO BE INDEPENDENT’ 

Daniel Schmidt began studying with his father in 1983 when he was 16. Hans-Karl Schmidt was one of East Germany’s leading bow makers at the time, and both Daniel and his younger brother Jochen decided to become bow makers after seeing their father’s success. They were also inspired by his work with international soloists and his access to international travel. ‘He went to the West, to Kassel, for the first time in 1983 to give a lecture at a competition,’ says Daniel. ‘From then on, he was able to go the West regularly, and was quite a privileged person compared with many others in our closed socialist system.’ After German reunification, Jochen went to work in The Hague in 1991 leaving Daniel to support his father in the shop. The moment he returned, Daniel went to Israel to train with luthier Amnon Weinstein in Tel Aviv. ‘After working with an experienced restorer – Amnon trained in Cremona and studied with Etienne Vatelot – I was able to adopt some restoration techniques from violin making, in areas such as varnish and oils.’

Strong parental influences don’t necessarily translate into stylistic similarities between the generations. Stefano Conia, who was born in Hungary in 1946, followed his father into violin making, and to the school in Cremona, but whereas his father returned to Hungary and worked there for the rest of his life, Stefano remained in Cremona, was an assistant of Gio Batta Morassi, and taught at the school for more than 20 years. ‘My father explored his style in a very personal way when he went back to Hungary,’ says Stefano.

‘He worked alone and didn’t much follow the Cremonese style he had learnt at the school. My style is much closer to the Cremonese school and to makers like Morassi and Sgarabotto.’

Dario II Vettori says that his father Paolo left him and his siblings to explore their own creativity and find their own styles. ‘The varnish we use might be very similar, and we might use the same model, the same outline or mould, but the result is different. The arching, the purfling, the way we do the edgework and the scroll – all these details are very personal, and that is important.’

Sofia Vettori adds that experimenting with models and finishes adds to the differences between her work and that of her father and brothers. ‘I was the first in the family to start making old-look violin varnish,’ she says. ‘And I’m the only one in the family who makes violins based on a Montagnana model.’

For Daniel Schmidt, there are strong similarities in the technical appearance of his bows and those of his father.

‘Stylistically I’m much closer to my father than my grandfather,’ he says. ‘I made many bows when I studied and worked with my father, and I’ve always tried to get as close as possible to his excellent workmanship. Put one of my bows and one of his side by side and it’s immediately clear that they are both Schmidt bows. But then, after more than 35 years in the profession, I have found my own style; you don’t have to copy your father.’

Přemysl Otakar Špidlen with son Jan in 2001

LEFT PHOTO PAVEL VÁCHA

Špidlen with grandchildren František and Josefína in 2004

Jan Špidlen says his instruments are similar in their finishing to those of his father, but have even more precision in the detailing. ‘That’s maybe not an advantage,’ he admits, ‘because a violin doesn’t necessarily become better through greater precision. I might be more precise, but he had a very strong and immediately recognisable style, and perhaps his instruments have a little more soul or character.’

Developing a personal style goes hand in hand with developing an individual reputation and independence as a maker. Špidlen says: ‘It’s great to have the support behind you of all the previous generations, but I think it’s important to be independent. You want your own label in a violin, and when you enter a competition you want to compete under your own name.’ Daniel Schmidt says that in contrast to the traditional practice of some famous German bow making families, where every generation joined the family firm, his father was determined to ‘kick us out’. He explains: ‘My father always said, “I’ll give you all my knowledge while you’re learning the craft, but I want you to become independent bow makers and establish your own business, your own workshop.”’

Modern-day making dynasties are continuing to add new generations to the trade. Jan Špidlen’s son graduated from the Newark School of Violin Making in 2020 and is now working alongside his father, on the way to becoming independent. And Daniel Schmidt’s brother Jochen has a 25-year-old daughter who trained in Mittenwald as a violin maker, but after spending time working abroad, has decided to study bow making with her father. ‘In a country with some 60 active bow makers, she is the first bow making apprentice for many years,’ notes Daniel. That the children of these makers have followed their fathers into making is a tribute not just to the enduring appeal of the craft, but also to their fathers’ mentoring skills and the inspiration of older generations.