restorersmind

I am inclined to think that there is some genetic formula that predisposes one to a mindset that I can only call the Restorer’s Mind.

In 1976, I began my journey as a stringed instrument maker. Somewhere around 1980, I realized I had planted my feet squarely in the restorer/repairer’s camp. “Violin restorer” does not roll off the tongue the way “violin maker” does. I admit, I have referred to myself, on occasion, as a violin maker, and while that is not entirely incorrect, I always feel slightly fraudulent when I do. I am not really a violin maker. I am a restorer.

In 2008, I achieved a milestone by becoming a member of the American Federation of Violin and Bow Makers. Customarily, one would acquire some repair skills as part of a violin making curriculum. Then, one would go on to work in a violin shop, the presumption being that this would include a more comprehensive training that would include repair and restoration. Membership in the AFVBM was predicated on this initial training in making, at least until 2008.

Conditions for membership in the AFVBM changed in 2008 to reflect the inclusion of restorers who had not necessarily followed the aforementioned training protocol. In fact, I had never gone to violin making school. Now, restorers were to be considered for membership primarily on the basis of their work, with an example documented and presented to the membership after a rigorous screening procedure. When the application requirements changed, I jumped at the chance to apply. In fact , I was the first to apply and be admitted, strictly based on my merit as a restorer.

So what accounts for  this distinction between making and restoring a violin? In fact, there are many skills common to both endeavors. We use many of  the same tools,

work with essentially the same materials. We also serve an undeniable historical imperative: we rely on the same iconic touchstones. Our common endgame is to serve the string player. Still, I think there is an attitude in question here. While there are makers that do some restoration work, and restorers that do some making , I will venture a guess in saying that most of us identify primarily with one or the other.

So without presuming to speak for the other camp, I have some thoughts formulating about what this “restorer’s mind” means.

1. For better or worse, we tend to perceive things as infinitely repairable.

2. We go to great lengths to work with what is already there.

3. We are undaunted by what most may perceive as a “lost cause”.

4. A problem is simply a challenge.

5. We see potential where others see degeneration and decrepitude.

6. We  rarely give up, nor do we ever feel like we’re done.

7. We function best with one foot in the past and the other in the future.

8. Our inspiration is not drawn down out of the ether, but coaxed out of the earth.

9. We resign ourselves or perhaps aspire to anonymity. The highest complement is to be perceived as never having been there.

10. We have a heightened sense of accountability – to our clients, to the maker, and to the historical and sentimental significance of the instruments we work on.

This is okay for starters.  I hope to continue this line of inquiry. I am curious to see where it will go…