Varnish 2022

After a couple of years of pandemic shut down, the varnish workshop run by Joe Robson (the Varnish Guy) was up and running again this year! It was the last week of April, held once more in the Chicago School of Violin Making in Skokie (which is newly renovated and quite lovely).

I wasn’t sure at first if I would be able to attend due to conflicts at either end of the week, but Joe was able to accommodate my truncated work schedule. I missed the first day, and most of the last two, but it was still worth it.

The main things I get out of the workshop at this point (since I’m rather comfortable in my varnishing skills, even if it’s an area where one can always improve) are the camaraderie, and the time to focus.

The camaraderie is hard to overstate. It’s wonderful to spend full days with people in your field when normally we are rather isolated from one another. I got to catch up with old friends and make new ones (none of whom ever ask, “What kinds of wood are violins made from?”)

I even got to share my commute this time with the incomparable Jennifer Creadick of Lutherie Lab in MN. She made my trip in March to Atlanta for the Celebration of Women in Lutherie exhibit possible by sharing her hotel room, so I offered her a place to stay in my home during varnish week, and she took me up on it. She made the drive to Chicago and back delightful every day and I miss her. 

(This is us on a whirlwind and chilly tour of Milwaukee making a stop at Bradford Beach on Lake Michigan.)

This workshop also had the highest number of women in attendance yet! Six out of fourteen, and we even found a seventh to come out to dinner one night for a Women In Lutherie evening of fun and sushi. (That evening was really good for the soul and one of the highlights of the week.)

In terms of focus, I have so much competing for my attention at home that to take a few days to concentrate on nothing but varnish work is both efficient and satisfying. In addition, it never hurts to have knowledgeable people to problem solve with right in the same room.

One other thing to mention before I get to any actual varnishing, is that we always see extraordinary antique instruments from around Chicago during varnish week. The most amusing part of that this time was the day an Omobono and a Bergonzi arrived. The Bergonzi is on the bench, and the Omobono is in the case.

If you're not a violin history nerd, let me explain: Carlo Bergonzi worked in Antonio Stradivari's shop, and his exquisite instruments are greatly admired among luthiers. He's sort of a violin maker's violin maker. Omobono was one of Stradivari's sons who also worked in the shop, but he was famously maligned by his father, and his name is industry slang for a screw up. It's hard to know how fair that characterization of Omobono is since his father seemed like a harsh and unforgiving man to work for, and the instrument of his we got to see was lovely. But it was hard not to feel for Omobono to watch centuries later, when placed in direct comparison with Bergonzi, he's still left to the side. (Poor Omobono!)

On to actual varnishing!

The projects I took down to Chicago this year were ambitious in number. Typically people bring two instruments: One in the white, and one already grounded. I brought six instruments (all of them at least grounded, a couple with some varnish already started), and a couple of days in I brought a seventh on which to learn antiquing methods. That was. . . a lot.

I made excellent progress, so I don't regret it, but that much work left less time for socializing. One of the nice things about the varnishing stage of building an instrument is that it comes with built in time constraints. At some point you can't do anything until whatever you've put on the instrument has completely dried, which forces you to take a break and turn your attention to something else. I had enough instruments on my bench that there was always a new one to pick up and work on. Good for accomplishing work goals, less good in terms of enjoying other things in life.

So here's what I worked on:

I brought three really beautiful commercial instruments in the white that I purchased back in 2020 to put under a store label for sale at Korinthian Violins. I prepared each with a balsam ground, but a different choice of aged wood color. That made for a good show-and-tell for the people new to those materials at the beginning of the week, to see (as pictured here from left to right) the gold, red-brown, and grey-green all side by side.

These instruments were straightforward, and an exercise in efficiency. They didn't all quite go to plan in terms of finished color, but I think they all came out nice, and I hope customers like them. Two are already set up and on the shelf, so I'm looking forward to people trying them out.

The other three instruments were all things I built.

There is this violin that I made for my daughter, Mona. She doesn't play, but I built a violin for her sister who can, and I think it's a good idea for each of my children to own an example of what I do even if they don't appreciate it now. 

I associate Mona with the color yellow, and wanted this instrument to look like pale amber. I used a Strad Varnish (from Violin Varnish Ltd) base coat for most of it, with a bit of cochineal tapped directly into some of the stronger flame lines, and a touch mixed into an all over coat.

A personalized feature of this instrument is the bird on the back of the scroll that was sketched there by Mona's older sister, Aden.

People often admire how pretty instruments look when they are still in the white--and they are--but I'm always enthralled by the transformation of a piece of maple during the varnish process that brings that piece of wood to life. I find this particular piece of wood dazzling.

 

I was able to do most of the varnishing on this instrument in the workshop, with one additional coat at home before polishing it all out. I recently set it up and was able to play it, and I'm pleased with how it sounds (which is always a relief!).

Part of what keeps varnishing interesting is all the variation possible. Mona's violin I wanted rather light, which is an interesting contrast the other one I worked on.

The next violin is a commission for a client in the Milwaukee area who wanted something to honor her grandparents. It has their names inside, and a Star of David on the back of the scroll.

The varnishing challenge on this violin was she wanted it very dark. Much darker than I usually go with my varnish, and I ended up combining bone black, lamp black, and cosmic black, along with some deep reds and browns to reach the color she wanted. It's not what I would have done on my own, but it's quite striking. I just strung it up the other day, and it needs to settle and be adjusted before I pass it on to the client, but I think she's going to love it.

I can't wait for her to be able to play this instrument for her grandmother.

The final thing I brought that I built is this viola. It's for a client who wanted it to match a violin I built for his daughter a few years ago. That instrument I also varnished in the Chicago workshop, and I still had all my notes about how I achieved that particular color. 

 

It was interesting to chart out step by step what I did before and see if I could replicate it. I think I did it, but I can't wait to see the two instruments side by side one day and see how close I got. I love how this viola came out, but I still have a few tiny things to do here and there before I can finally set it up and hear how it sounds. I can't wait!

The final project is still hanging in my shop waiting for some free time to magically show up so I can complete it. I experimented with a quicker approach to varnishing at a workshop a few years ago, and was never happy with the results I got on this viola. I also wasn't completely happy with the construction on this instrument when it arrived from the supplier in the white, so I figured it was a perfect candidate for antiquing.

Antiquing is a process of artificially aging the varnish wear on an instrument to make it look older, which is what a lot of players want, even in a new instrument. I normally don't do it, since I figure my instruments will get worn enough just out in the world on their own without me hastening the process. But when the talented Itzel Avila, antiquing master, gave a demonstration at the workshop and mentioned how much easier it is emotionally to antique something she didn't make herself, I was inspired! Why not pull out that viola that I was planning to strip and do over anyway and try some of these techniques? That was really enjoyable, and I'm looking forward to finishing it someday.

I also managed to leave the workshop with more things than I brought, since I purchased a viola that Joe varnished for my inventory. That one needed a couple more coats of varnish on just the top and the ribs, and I was flattered that Joe trusted me to finish that work on my own. But this was the lineup of things to complete after a week in Chicago:

It's a happy sight.

And it was a wonderful week! I hope everyone this year gets to do something as fulfilling as I got to do in my varnish workshop.

Varnish Workshop 2019

 This was my fifth time at the violin varnish workshop.

The joke (for people like me, who have now been to this varnish workshop multiple times) is that we must be slow learners. But the truth is, I learn something new each time, I add to my knowledge and skill set, and find ways to improve.

Plus there is the company.



For one week I get to be with people who enjoy violin work the way I do, but in a hands-on way. At Violin Society of America (VSA) conventions there are hundreds of like minded people to spend time with, and that's great, but sometimes overwhelming, and somewhat clinical. However, to spend time in a small space with about a dozen people who are all working is amazing and rare. I love it.

Varnish Workshop 2018

The varnish workshop that I’ve come to attend on an annual basis since it moved to Chicago (instead of Boston) has become one of the highlights of my year each spring.  I don’t need it in the way I used to—when I lacked the knowledge and tools to use oil varnish with confidence—but for something deeper now. 

I don’t mean to imply I know all I want to know to varnish a violin.  That remains a lifelong process, and I learn something new and useful at the workshop every time.  But if I never returned I could certainly proceed on my own and feel capable of varnishing instruments in a way I can be proud of.  The very first workshop I attended succeeded in doing that.









No, what I get now that I’ve done this four times is that rare and cherished sense of being among “my people.”  The participants at the varnish workshop run the gamut from absolute beginners to luthiers at the top of their field, but everyone there has something to learn, something to teach, something to share that is valuable.  The atmosphere is industrious but relaxed, and it changes a bit each year with the different personalities in attendance, but they are all people who get what it is that interests me about this field and I don’t have to explain it.  We share a language and an aesthetic and there is a pleasure in that that I don’t experience in group settings very often. 

The other thing that’s nice about the varnish workshop is simply being able to block out an entire week of time to do what I want to do all day every day.  Other people may want a vacation at a spa, but that’s not for me.  Much more satisfying to be productive and feel I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing rather than using all my energy on the chore treadmill that is often day-to-day life.  The varnish workshop has become a favorite playground.

Varnish Workshop 2017

I went to my third varnish workshop in April and this was the best one yet.  I went for the first time in 2013 when it was in Boston (during which the marathon bombing occurred, so that was memorable even without all the cool new information about turpentine), and again last year when the workshop moved to Chicago.

This year it was in Chicago for the second time, using the facilities of the Chicago School of Violin Making while the regular students were away on break.  (It was a long commute from Milwaukee, but it was nice to sleep in my own bed at night.)



I think the most natural question of the uninitiated at this point would be, "What is there still to learn by going to this workshop for a third time?"  And someone who has never varnished a violin or doesn't know anything about it probably assumes there can't be that many ways to do it, so it would be hard to imagine a whole week of it yet again.

But the better you become at anything the more capable you are of learning new things.  It's great to feel you are improving your skill set while also adding to it.

The first varnish workshop was a revelation about how to see violin varnish, how to read the wood as you progress, to understand ground in more depth, and how to use materials very different from what I was initially trained with in school.

By the second workshop I was able to move past more general ideas and focus on finer details.  I learned a huge amount about preparing an instrument while it was still in the white in order to influence the look of the varnish later.  I was led by the hand through explorations in color in ways I never would have conceived of on my own.

Varnishing in Chicago

In April I was lucky enough to attend a week-long violin varnishing workshop.  I really enjoyed the one I attended three years ago in Boston, and decided the time was right to repeat the experience.  Only after I committed to it did I find out that this year they were holding it in Chicago!

On the one hand, that was great because it was incredibly convenient.  For nearly all of it I commuted home at night, which meant I was able to still attend an evening orchestra rehearsal, I could check in with the kids in person, and sleep in my own bed.  On the other hand, driving back and forth to Chicago every day was exhausting, and there is something to packing up and leaving town and not being distracted by your normal everyday life while trying to immerse yourself in another experience.  Overall, though, it was great to have the workshop so comparatively close.

The workshop was held at the Chicago School of Violin Making.  I have several friends who got their training there, and my own teacher taught at CSVM for years before moving to Wisconsin which is where he took me on as a student.   I enjoyed having a chance to work in that space for a week and get a feel for what that environment is like.

The workshop was led again by Joe Robson, who is a varnish maker, and luthiers Marilyn Wallin and Todd Goldenburg.  The dozen or so of us in attendance spanned the range from people oil varnishing for the first time to accomplished builders.  It was a really pleasant and interesting group.

Time to Talk Varnish

I can't believe it's been almost two weeks since I got back from my violin varnish workshop in Concord.  Lots of people have asked about it, so figured I'd better buckle down and write this post while enough of it is still fresh in my mind.

It was great.  Disturbing week to be in Boston aside, it was inspiring, helpful, challenging, reassuring, and altogether worthwhile.  Very glad I went, and I know my work will improve as a direct result.

Joe Robson

There were a dozen people in attendance at the workshop ranging from professionals with experience to someone varnishing for the first time.  The primary instructors were Joe Robson (who is a varnish maker and provided us a range of his products to try) and Marilyn Wallin (an award winning luthier and former president of the Violin Society of America), and then later we were also joined by Roman Barnas (teacher at the North Bennett Street School) and Todd Goldenberg (a New England luthier).

gathered for a demonstration

We were situated in two rooms in an art center in Concord, but spent as much time as possible working outside.  Color is easier to judge in natural light, and everything dried best in the sun when we could get it.

Everyone was asked to bring two instruments, one in the white, and one with a ground coat already established.  I managed to do my ground work at home backwards (not an auspicious beginning), but this worked out in the end because I was able to strip the instrument and that's a skill I needed.  I also got to learn a technique for completing a ground coat in a day in order to catch up, and that was valuable experience as well.  (Ideally, it's best to take your time and be thorough and enjoy the process longer, but the speed ground turned out to work perfectly fine.  Someone in our group dubbed the technique the "Fed Ex Ground.")

My corner of the bench--cozy work space for 8 people

There were several revelations for me during this workshop, one of which was to finally begin to understand the true importance and function of the ground on a violin.  The ground coat is everything you do to the wood before you start layering on varnish.  The ground is in the wood, the varnish is on the wood.  With the ground you establish a base color to work over, and prepare the surfaces for taking on varnish.  In this workshop I was shown how to look for the ground through the varnish on a finished instrument, which was pretty amazing.

One of the things that's complicated about violin making is that among builders I know, it tends to be a pretty solitary business.  When you work in isolation you lack feedback.  In the workshop you could try new things, observe how different things were working out for others, and never feel like anything was beyond hope because there were so many knowledgeable people there to help salvage the work.

And there were techniques and materials that if I had used them by myself I would have felt panicked.   For instance, there are interesting dyes available to put into the ground coat, but if I had applied them at home I would have been convinced I'd just ruined my instrument.  I tried a gold dye that goes on looking like you took a highlighter to the wood, but after only an hour in the sun it fades down to a lovely color.  Check out the violin right after the dye went on: