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Making an early bow
Elizabeth
Le Guin interviews Ralph Ashmead, specialist in early music archeterie.
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Copy of anonymous violin bow, mid-18th century. Ironwood and scrimshaw
mammoth ivory.
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In
the last ten years, the San Francisco Bay Area has flourished as an important
centre for Early Music. The Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra, headquartered
in San Francisco and directed by Nicholas McGegan, enjoys a solid success
with critics and public. No Philharmonia rehearsal-set would be quite complete
without an appearance from bow maker Ralph Ashmead. Entering the
rehearsal hall unobtrusively with two slender briefcase-sized boxes, he
sits and listens attentively until the break, when the string section of
the orchestra descends upon him with a kind of fierce enthusiasm, to see
'what Ralph's got this time'. |
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boxes contain a stunning selection of violin, viola, and cello bows, in
a variety of shapes, sizes and colours that nearly defies description:
from tiny, short 'stiletto' bows, used to play the music of Monteverdi
and his contemporaries, to fantastical Baroque bows with fluted sticks
in brilliantly figured snakewood and sculpted frogs in fossil bone, to
late 18th century, 'transitional' bows in a seemingly endless array of
designs, weights and balances. The rehearsal period becomes a forum for
the testing and discussion of bows, sometimes lasting several days; and
while it's not usual for Ralph to make a sale or two during his visits,
he's there for a more important reason - gathering and sharing information
with his customers, listening to his bows being used in a working situation,
and getting and giving feedback. |
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| The first instruments I made were lutes and guitars;
than I branched out into making viola da gambas and violins.
In 1983 I returned to the Bay Area and discovered I couldn’t
find bows for my instruments! A local string teacher encouraged me to
make some early bows. I realized that bow making really fits my personality
and my skills: I enjoyed the intricate parts. There are only a few ornaments
on the bows and they have to be perfect. Something in me just clicked
with that.
1983 was a good year to come to the Bay Area; the Philharmonia
Baroque Orchestra was just starting up and people were needing bows. Also,
the San Francisco Early Music Society concert series was bringing in Early
Music specialists from all over the world. I was able to interact and
do business with groups like the English Concert, Academy of ancient Music,
Orchestra of the 18th Century, Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra
and soloists like Jaap Schroeder and Stanley Richie.
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Viola d'Amore, 1985
7 +7 sympathetic strings
Curly koa & ebony
Baroque violin bow
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| When I come and watch a group play,
I see that this bow’s working for that person, but not for that one.
Maybe one person’s tightening it up more or less, maybe they’re
choking up on it differently, or maybe it’s being used on a bigger
instrument, or with a smaller person. There are all these little variables.
Not every bow is right for every player. I’ve found over the years
that I can get incredibly different reactions from musicians trying or
using a given bow!
Sometimes I’ll get a postcard from somebody saying, 'Hey
this bow’s really teaching me a lot!' Maybe they bought something
they weren’t totally sure what to do with in the beginning, they
had to grow into it.
Now I’m in a nice comfort zone – not that I don’t
make mistakes still! – where I don’t feel afraid to have 20
people try a bow and not like it. There might well be a 21st
person who just knows how to handle that particular stick.
I like to think I’m not much different from bow makers
back in the 17th and 18th centuries. They were constantly
experimenting. Of course, I have a duty to maintain historical accuracy
in copying old bows; but I also want to accommodate the needs of living
players. So I do experiment. I make subtle changes, just as they might
have done.
One of the joys of making early bows is the variety. For instance,
1750-1800 was an incredibly rich and varied time in the history of bow
design. You can tell that makers were working feverishly to keep up with
the demands of the new playing styles. And as with any experimentation,
there are failures, but considering the huge range of woods, head-styles
and cambers they were using, they created some beautiful successes.
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Baroque bows
Snakewood & rosewood
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In the early Baroque period, it’s a bit limiting
just to go by the few existing bows in museums. I’ve had to come up
with some designs based entirely on old paintings in order to 'fill in'
certain time periods. It’s natural for people to want to alter things
to the way they feel. In fact it’s more or less inevitable –
no matter how much you may want to copy something, it’s going to come
out like you. |
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| I think this freedom is what drew me
to early instruments and bow-making. There’s the inevitable vagueness
of when, how, why and who made a particular old bow. The early Baroque
ones were rarely, if ever, stamped with a maker’s name, and even with
later bows we’re left with a lot of educated guesswork as to when
and where a given bow originated. And then there’s the interesting
issue of what players might have been using at a given time. There’s
that famous lithograph of Paganini from around 1850 , using a straight,
early-transitional bow, a design that was supposedly out of date by then.
All these unknowns and variables leave me a window of opportunity in which
to play around within the historical framework and come up with interesting
variations on themes.
[Another factor is the] kind of music the bow’s going to
be used for. The periods I take my bow designs from had music that ranged
from folk fiddling to heavily ornamented, refined court music. One really
interesting development has been that a lot of fine contemporary Irish
and Scottish folk-fiddlers are starting to realize that early bows are
perfect for their dance music. They don’t really need the power and
length of a full-sized bow, and these are lighter and easier to handle.
A few really great players, Alasdair Fraser being one, have started pushing
for this. After all, a lot of the best old Scottish and Irish fiddle tunes
do come from the 17th and 18th centuries…
One slight difference with regard to olden times is that I use
only fossil mammoth or walrus ivory, or fossil bone, instead of elephant
ivory. And the simpler models just have wooden frogs and buttons.
I do enjoy making modern perambucco bows, and I feel there’s
room for some of the early bow-making techniques there. For instance fluting,
which was commonly used in Baroque bows – grooves were gouged out
of the facets on the stick. It’s a great option between round or
octagonal sticks, because it allows the use of heavier woods like snakewood
or ironwood – which make beautiful bows – it reduces the weight
of the stick but retains most of the stiffness. I think it’s unfortunate
that fluting died out.
Also, I hope to start incorporating some of the beautiful early
designs of fogs and buttons in my modern bows. Stay tuned!
Elizabeth
Le Guin is a Baroque cellist, founding member of the Philharmonia Baroque
Orchestra and musicologist, living in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Copyright
© 1993 The Strad Magazine
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