One aspect of violin making I butt heads with is the obsession with having to match what those Italian guys did three or four centuries ago. Even though there are a number of makers of different time periods with divergent styles to base one's work on, the boundaries of what constitutes acceptable styling and execution in lutherie are pretty narrowly defined, and while I often yearn for more artistic freedom of expression, it was with some trepidation that I started entertaining the idea of a non-traditional inlay pattern.
Brescian-style instruments lend themselves to a freer style -- they are not subject to the same strict geometric and taste requirements as Cremonese models. Still, I wondered "am I too personal? rebellious? will this be considered too flashy? trashy?"
In the end, I arrived at something that I thought to be elegantly stylized and, for students of Eastern Philosophies like myself, somewhat evocative of their recurring themes; visible above: the evolution of an invisible idea into a two-dimensional template into a three-dimensional channel, coming to full fruition (excuse the pun) in the finished design.
Brescian-style instruments lend themselves to a freer style -- they are not subject to the same strict geometric and taste requirements as Cremonese models. Still, I wondered "am I too personal? rebellious? will this be considered too flashy? trashy?"
In the end, I arrived at something that I thought to be elegantly stylized and, for students of Eastern Philosophies like myself, somewhat evocative of their recurring themes; visible above: the evolution of an invisible idea into a two-dimensional template into a three-dimensional channel, coming to full fruition (excuse the pun) in the finished design.