MY VIOLIN CHOSE ME

When I moved to Northern California in 2009, I was happily surprised to find a tiny, upstairs violin shop owned by violin maker John Harrison. He would do violin adjustments and bow re-hairs and show my kids what he was doing. They found this fascinating, mostly because of the promised cookie he gave them at the end.

John in his shop fixing my son Tommy’s tiny violin.

After a few years I discovered John had made a violin that was not on display, but rather, kept in a case in a large pile of cases. (If you’ve ever visited some violin shops, you’ll know what I mean by ‘piles’). As he explained how he created this violin, he showed me all his wood which he was proudly drying out. He told me that the wood for this particular violin was from Bosnia and shared what he knew of the history.  

During the Bosnian war in the 1990’s, the family of a violin maker in Sarajevo snuck into the forest at night to get wood from Bosnian maple trees. They would then sell the wood to the inner circle of New York’s best violin makers in order to survive. John purchased the wood from his friend in New York late in 1992 and used it to craft the neck, back and ribs when making the violin. The wood was all from the same tree. He used Norwegian Spruce to make the top of the violin, which came from the border region between Austria and Italy. The handcrafted pegs on the scroll were made by Eric Meyer in Portland, Oregon. 

The next time I visited the shop, he pulled the violin out and let me play it, stating that he did not want to sell it. He wanted the violin to find the ‘right’ person who was classically trained but who could also wander around and connect with people. That was fine by me I told him. I had a modern violin made in Cremona, Italy in 2001 which I bought while studying at the conservatorium in Australia. 

My Italian violin had a clear, direct, yet pure and sweet sound. People from the audience loved its tone and ‘in the know’ violinists would complement its craftsmanship. It was easy to make a clean sound with the bow and to ‘get around’ because of its fine neck. The sound guy at my church loved my Italian violin as its tone was easy to project via my McIntyre pick up. But under my ear, over time, it just didn’t give me enough immediate connection with its sound.

You can hear my sweet Italian violin on my YouTube track “Basel” with choreography here.

My Italian violin initially appealed to me after so many years of growing up playing a heavier German made violin affectionately nicknamed “The Tank” which I purchased in Australia at age 11. I bought it for $200, complete with a broken neck fixed with two ancient looking wooden pegs in tow. It was crafted in 1900 and I have always admired it for having the fortitude to survive two world wars and a host of climate changes. “The Tank” is the same violin I carried around in my backpack in Europe, Africa and Cambodia and also the violin to survive unaffected by the fine red dirt and heat from traveling through the desert APY lands of Australia.  This past week my family took a 3-day horse riding trek through Wyoming’s Shoshone National Forest and this was the violin of choice to come on the journey!

The 2 wooden pegs on the neck of “The Tank”.

Over a period of about two years, every time I went to John’s shop, he would pull out his ‘not for sale’ violin and I would play it. After one visit, John suggested I think about buying it because I seemed drawn to it. No! I had a violin from Cremona which I bought in Australia and was not in the market to buy a new one.

He asked me if I did not trust him as a luthier because he lived in Redding, California and not in a big city. I was lost for words, but mainly because I had to admit to myself this very thought had crossed my mind. So, he showed me his awards for making as well as for tone and suggested I go down to the two most reputable violin stores in San Francisco and look at violins to purchase in the same price range. I like a challenge and this seemed like a good one!

In one store (that had not just piles, but rather, mountains of violin cases), they somehow found and laid out 10 violins in a similar price range along a velvet antique couch and I played them one by one ‘blind’. (Think of blind wine tasting where you do not look at the label before tasting- it is basically the same. Except for violins, the label is inside its body with the maker’s name and the year it was crafted). None of the violins grabbed my attention until number 7. I just loved the way it felt. The neck, the pegs, the way the bow rolled evenly across the strings. 

After playing them all, I looked inside number 7 to see where it was from and who made it. I was shocked to find it had been made by John Harrison in Redding, California. I went back to John armed with two other maker’s violins from the shop in San Francisco to compare to John’s ‘not for sale’ violin. I loved John’s ‘not for sale’ violin even more than the sound of number 7.

Every time I played John’s violin people would say variations of: “It’s like you’re playing your personality”. I loved the way it sounded under my ear and every time I picked it up, I smiled. It made me happy. So, mine it became - after my husband surprised me with it! It’s the first violin I’ve ever really loved playing just for myself. To me, it doesn’t matter what people think because my violin chose me.

Playing my Harrison violin live in Atlanta, Georgia

You can hear my John Harrison made violin on my YouTube “Sweet Praise” instrumental here.

I would love to hear your violin story!