Eleven Course Lute after Magno Tieffenbrucker

I finished an eleven course lute using the bowl from Magno Tieffenbrucker's archlute C45 that is conserved in the KHM, Vienna. It is one of my favorite models and I have built it with various string dispositions; as an archlute, like the original, as a larger eight course and as a ten. This lute is strung in the old G tuning with an extended bass. The owner also intends to restring it for D minor. The string length is 646mm.

I built the mould for the lute around 1985 from plans drawn by Gerhard Söhne. It has given good service. I prefer working with solid moulds like this for lutes with many narrow ribs and open moulds for wider and fewer ribs. I have thirty odd lute moulds and they are split fairly evenly between the two types. My two posts from May 8 and 17, 2012 describe building a open mould.  This mould was assembled from blocks of basswood cut to specific cross-sectional profiles as denoted on the published plans, glued together (you can see the glue lines) and then sculpted to the finished shape.

The original archlute has a triple rose. When I build the archlute model I incorporate that design, but as a lute with fewer courses I use a single rose, positioned in the same location as the triple rose.

The design is a abbreviated version of a rose that appears on many renaissance lutes. My source is from the swan neck thirteen course by Joachim Tielke 1678, Bayerisches Nationalmuseum, Munich, Mu 10.

The bridge is constructed of plum with an ebony cap. I positioned it the same distance from the rear of the belly as it is on the original archlute. I think that maintaining Magno's original geometry for these features is as important as the shape of the bowl for preserving his tonal vision.

The original bowl is constructed with 31 ribs of yew with dark spacers. I used Indian rosewood with holly spacers.

The neck is constructed with a poplar core veneered with strips of black ebony that taper in width from the neck joint to the peg box separated by holly lines. I do not taper the strips individually. I carefully plane an ebony block to the required taper and cut each piece from its edge.

The finished pieces can then be lined up to check for discrepancies.

The length of an eleven course pegbox can be intimidating so I was careful in determining its proportions. The core is pear with an ebony back plate.

The cheeks are veneered with rosewood and holly. The chantrelle bracket is carved from a small block of ebony.

The ninth fret is tied on the neck but it sits very close to the neck joint which makes it very difficult to tie tightly. I like  to insert a tiny peg into the center rib to hold the fret securely in position.

I usually apply an oil finish to mult-rib rosewood bowls. But this time I decided to shellac it using a French polish technique.

 Solvents in the finish will often cause rosewood color to bleed onto lighter woods so I painted the holly spacers with several coats of shellac to seal them using a tiny brush. Then I filled the open grain of the rosewood with commercial wood filler. Once the filler was dry I scraped and sanded the ribs smooth.

 There are many descriptions of french polishing on the internet and if you are interested in trying the technique read a few explanations and watch the videos. Here I'll cover the major points of my technique but I think it is best if you develop your own through practice and patience. In essence, it is a simple procedure.

1. A 2 lb. cut of white shellac flakes dissolved in denatured alcohol.
2. 'Fads' or applicators made from good quality white cotton stuffed with cotton balls and secured with white cotton string.
3. The smaller fad is about the same size as the width of this lute's ribs and is used to apply the polish to one rib at a time. I use a circular motion that is the size of an American Quarter.
4. Ridges from the circular motion build up with repeated applications of polish. These must be removed using the larger fad with a 1 lb. cut of polished. Use a straight light sweeping motion over each rib. A little over-lapping is OK.
5. Always allow the polish to dry for several hours before resuming work with a different fad.
6. 'Spirit off' using the larger fad and a polish that is increasingly more dilute until a flawless mirror finish is achieved.
7. Or, if the spiriting off proves troublesome allow the finish to dry for a week and polish with rottenstone lubricated with mineral oil until you are satisfied.

Decorative tip of the End Clasp

I decided that spiriting off would be too tricky on these narrow ribs. I reduced the amount of shellac to a little less than a 1 lb. cut and made several passes. I allowed this to dry for several days.  Then I rubbed the finish with rottenstone and mineral oil using a soft paper shop towel and Q-Tips for the difficult areas.






Future posts will describe the 1805 Giovanni Fabricatore in the Edinburgh University Collection of Historical Musical Instruments that I examined last month.

 

And a multi-post description of my construction of a Panormo guitar from a 1834 model.

All photo by the author.

Appointment in Edinburgh with Fabricatore and Staufer - Part 1 Staufer

   

Last Monday I visited Edinburgh University for an appointment to continue my study of nineteenth century guitars. At left is a Giovanni Fabricatore built in 1805, EUCHMI No. 290 and below is a Johann Georg Staufer built in 1829, EUCHMI No. 3838. I plan to devote a separate post to each instrument. I'll start with the J.G. Staufer.

.

Earlier in the history of the Staufer family the surname was spelled with one "f"as it still was when this guitar was built. "Staufer' is faintly visible just above the build number 480.

The Staufer is in nearly original condition including the nickel bar frets. For guitars that remain in playable condition these have usually been replaced with T-frets by modern players so it was special to see them. The fingerboard is not ebony or other hard exotic wood but a domestic  maple that was stained black. Here you can see that the stain has worn off through use in the first playing position. Note also that the string nut has been set up so that the first string lies further from the edge of the fingerboard than the sixth string -- a setup favored by many performers.

The replacement bridge is the one unhistorical feature. There is a pencilled note with the date 1963 on one of the back bars. Presumably this was when the current bridge was mounted. Probably at this time the thin plywood bridge plate that is found under the bridge was added  This  bridge is an example of a lack of understanding of the dynamics of Staufer's guitar design, as I will explain. The bridge block without the saddle is 12 millimeters high and the saddle adds another 6 mm.

This is about the same height that the fingerboard of the adjustable neck sits above the soundboard (17 mm). This is not what Staufer had in mind. He built his guitars with low bridges fitted with a bar saddle, rising  to only 6 or 7 mm above the soundboard. There is an acoustical advantage in having the strings lie this close to the soundboard. The disadvantage, if this were a conventional guitar, is that the players' fingers are cramped for space. The raised  neck of the Staufer design alleviates this problem and the neck's adjustability allows for further adjustment. For whatever reason someone chose to install a bridge that allowed the strings to lie parallel to the soundboard. Unfortunately but predictably, the increased torque generated by the high bridge caused the soundboard to collapse, threatening the guitar's integrity.

The soundboard has four harmonic bars, two above the rose, one to the bridge side of the sound hole and the fourth behind the bridge. I was able to measure the two bars nearest the sound hole, but access to the interior of the guitar was limited so I could only estimate the dimensions of the two distant bars. The bar directly to the neck side of the sound hole measures 22 mm high and approximately 7 mm thick. The bar nearest the front block appeared to be slightly smaller. The bar to the bridge side of the sound hole measures 17 mm high and approximately 8 mm thick. The fourth harmonic bar, the bar behind the bridge is much smaller; perhaps only 12 mm high tapering to 9 or 10 mmm before the beginning of a long scallop and then fitting into the lining at a height of only 2 or 3 mm.

These bars are shaped in the same style as the back bars with one exception that I'll explain later. As an example this photo shows the back bar at the guitar's waist. The wood grain is perpendicular to the bar's gluing surface, the sides are slightly tapered ending in a rounded top surface. The back bars end in a short scallop but the harmonic bars display longer scallops. Both sets of bars fit snuggly into low thin spruce linings. What doesn't show in the photo is the taper in bar height; highest in the center then tapering several millimeters to the beginning of the scallop.

The back was constructed with a single piece of maple that is lightly figured on its edges. The central part of the back has little curl and a grain pattern characteristic of wood cut well off the quarter. There is an advantage in using wood cut in this manner because the piece has a tendency to cup across the grain. This provides the maker with a partially pre-bent back. On this guitar the back is arched 4 mm across the lower bout, 2 mm across the waist and 3+mm across the upper bout.

A defining characteristic of Staufer's Legnani model is the longitudinal arch of the back. This is achieved by making the height of the side ribs progressively lower from the waist forward to the neck. On this guitar the depth of the rear is slightly less than the depth of the lower bout. The specific measurements including the thickness of the back and soundboard are: Rear 83 mm, lower bout 84 mm, waist 82 mm, upper bout 73.5 mm, neck 69 mm. The ribs are lightly figured maple.

I have already mentioned several features of the Staufer neck. This is a fine example so I will show the main features with a brief explanation.

Maple is used throughout and after all the shaping and fitting is completed the assembled neck is varnished  with black shellac. The peg head is made separately and is attached with a 'V' joint. The angle is 20 degrees.

The peghead is really cool. Six-a-side geared tuners fit in a cavity carved in the rear of the peg head. A beautifully engraved brass plate covers the workings. For contemporary aficionados reproductions of these tuners are available from several sources.

The heel is a separate block of maple glued to the neck and then shaped as one piece. Most of the heel is not visible as it protrudes into the guitar body. The rear surface is shaped to act as a fulcrum. The hole that is seen in the heel contains a screw that passes through and is treaded into the front block. By turning the screw with a clock key the neck angle can be adjusted; rising or lowering the distance of the strings above the fingerboard.

The edge banding of the soundboard mirrors sound hole rings.


This post is only half the story of my examination of the this guitar. It is the visual half. I made a profile tracing of the body and recorded numerous measurements. Soon I will make a working drawing that includes this information and post it on this site as a full size downloadable pdf.

All photos by the author.

Darryl Martin, Principal Curator, Edinburgh University Collection of Historical Musical Instruments, graciously arranged my visit at a time of upheaval -- the home of the collection, St. Cecilia's,
is being readied for extensive renovations.

Doctoral student and Conservation Assistant, Jonathan Santa Maria Bouquet, kindly assisted my visit. By the way, Jonathan's thesis is on the lutes of Sixtus Rauwolf. Something to look forward to!

September Update - Tieffenbrucker, Panormo, Stauffer and Guadagnini

While I was completing the model of the Checchucci guitar that was the subject of my last post I also continued working on other projects and new ones too. Here's the latest.

At left is a nearly completed eleven course lute using the bowl of C.45 Kunsthistorisches Vienna, the Magno Tieffenbrucker archlute. This design is very adaptable and I use it for eight and ten course instruments as well as a conventional archlute. As an eleven it is to be tuned in the old tuning like a ten course but with an expanded range. It will be the subject of a photo blog in the near future.

                                                                         
I have been spending a lot of time working with nineteenth century guitars. Earlier, I posted various stories about repairs, a restoration and an examination. I made working drawings of several Louis Panormo guitars that have passed through my shop and over the last few months I built a replica using a model from 1834. In the photo it is strung up "in the white -- completely assembled and playable but not yet varnished. I have documented every step of its construction. When it is finished I'll share this with you.

I also found time to start a replicate of a Johann Georg Stauffer terz guitar. This instrument is no. 4152 in the Berlin Musical Instrument Museum. It was displayed when I was there last year and although I didn't have the opportunity to examine it I purchased the plans sold by the museum. The neck floats in a deep notch in the front block of the guitar and is adjustable through a screw mechanism that protrudes through a hole that is visible in the heal of the neck.

I reported on this guitar by Gaetano Guadagnini (1796-1852) in an update from October 30, 2013. There are numerous cracks in the soundboard. I removed the back of the guitar to make access easier. I've blocked the cracks from the inside and have now started the process of widening each crack and inserting wood splints. Two of my splints are visible on the bass side level with the soundboard frets. A recess that is ready to receive a splint is  next to the bridge location. Other untreated cracks are visible throughout the top. Gaetano's guitars are not well known today but his construction technique with laterally bent top and back is interesting and got the attention of Hermann Hauser Sr. who built replicas early in the twentieth century.

I am looking forward to finishing these projects and I'll be back with more posts soon.


                                   

Checchucci Guitar - Final Installment

Michael Manderen finally gets to try out my model of the Jacopo Checchucci 1628 guitar (Museum of Fine Arts, Acc. No. 2001.707, Boston USA). As Director of Admissions for Oberlin Conservatory Michael travels extensively auditioning prospective students  but during the summer he relaxes by playing weekends at regional medieval fairs. I have built a number of instruments for Michael and when he asked me to build an Italian baroque guitar he agreed with my plan to research and build a model of an instrument that had not yet been replicated. This was to become a two year adventure. I reported on my visit to the museum in this blog on April 25, 2012. Later in the year, November 6, I posted a down-loadable drawing of the instrument. Six more posts detailed its construction including new techniques (for me) while others chronicled various trials and tribulations that I encountered along the way. This final installment tidies up a few loose ends.

The original guitar was constructed with a short neck. I thought this arrangement was impractical so I increased the string length to 65.5 cm. This allowed for one more fret on the neck.

The bridge on the MFA Checchucci is a modern replacement. I didn't find the trident motif convincing, but I did want to retain something of the guitar's aesthetic at this point.

So I borrowed Jacopo's design of the top part of the rear arabesque to serve as the inspiration for the moustache of my bridge.

The triple stringing lines frame every element of the guitar's construction.

Except for the horizontal lines on the side ribs the triple stringers are part of the aesthetics of the original guitar.

 I was fascinated with the design of the peghead and I described its construction in detail in a post on March 11, 2014.

I think the grainy Kingwood figure gives an organic touch to the peghead's geometry.

Although I seldom do this type of work, I think my favorite (and most challenging) part of building this guitar was making the borders. I had to figure out the new techniques for cutting, shaping and aligning the individual pieces. There were problems along the way but it all worked out.



                       ****

         All photos by the author.

Louis Panormo No. 2154, 1834 - A Restoration

It looks like Jerry Willard is happy with the restoration that I did on his Louis Panormo guitar. I hope so. This is the second time in two years I have done serious work on this guitar. Last year I replaced the fingerboard which resolved the problem of the guitar playing badly out of tune. My blog post from April 5, 2013 describes this work. This time the problem was more serious.

Jerry had just returned from a gig in Greece and opening the guitar case discovered that the bridge had split right along the pin line -- unfortunate, but good timing!

Jerry Willard photo

This type of bridge failure is common. Bridge pins are tapered over their length and are intended  to fit snuggly in their holes. The pressure they exert on the surrounding bridge wood is small but over time, combined with the pull of the strings, the wood will often split. There was no question of gluing the bridge back together. It would need to be replaced.

The front half of the bridge was completely separated from the soundboard and fell off when I removed the strings. The rear half was still in place as were both bridge arms. These latter pieces seemed to have been integral with the bridge block at some time but had broken off during a previous incident because they remained attached to the top when I removed the remains of the bridge block.

The condition of the soundboard under the bridge was frightening. It was worse than I expected. Obviously it had come off previously and probably more than once. On one occasion large chunks of the top had been ripped out in the area in front of the bridge pins and had not been replaced before the bridge was re-glued. Glue from this operation had collected in the open cavities. Curiously, the ripped out section in front of the 'A' string (second from left) continued pass the front of the bridge. That area had been filled in cosmetically. It is visible as a darker rectangle. Also thin layers of wood were lifted as seen in the center of the photo. But the most troubling sight was that the surface of the raw wood was a good third of a millimeter below the surface of the varnished soundboard. Such a clear line is delineated across the front of the bridge as a result of a technique that some luthiers use to ensure a tidy appearance of the varnish around the bridge. Guitar makers often apply the finish to the top before the bridge is glued on. Afterwards the bridge is held in place and a shape knife line is scribed around the outline of the bridge. The finish in the area can then be easily and precisely removed with a hot knife leaving a clean surface for the bridge. The mistake here was that the hand that held the knife was too clumsy and too deep a cut was made. When the bridge joint failed it took a big chunk of top wood with it.

 I had recorded measurements of the guitar previously so I knew the area around the bridge was only 2.0mm thick.  I thought that if I just replaced the broken bridge and it came off again, which was likely considering the lack of structural integrity of the soundboard, it would cause even more damage. I started to repair the damage by squaring up the ripped out sections in front of the pin holes and filling the cavities with new wood. Other less damaged areas were re-glued and levelled.

The top had sunk slightly below the side rib level and the bridge canted down on the front edge and up at the rear. This was in spite of the fact that the three center fan bars had been replaced and a bridge plate added in the not to distant past.
I decided to replace all seven fan bars and at the same time to re-dome the soundboard.  To get started I needed to remove the back.

I did this by wicking de-natured alcohol into the joint with the side ribs using a thin palette knife. It came off easily except for the area of the slipper foot that required more patience.

I removed and preserved the original fan bars, not to reattached them but as artifacts. Part way through removing the newer fan bars I discovered the reason they had not prevented the top from collapsing.  As the photo shows the bridge plate was continuous between the 2nd and 5th bar. The central bars were notched to fit over the bridge plate. I realize that this is sometimes a regular procedure for modern classical guitars but their fan bars are considerably larger. As it is, this procedure removed half of the substance and strength of the bars in a critical location.

I made new bars from quartered spruce all measuring 5.25mm high and 4.75mm wide. I notched the bridge plate to receive the center three bars with a snug fit and glued them in place upside down on a solera  This is a concave assembly platform and the technique is the traditional Spanish method for gluing the fan bars. The fan bars and soundboard are pressed into the concavity of the solera resulting in a domed or arched soundboard that enhances the tonal characteristics of the instrument. It also makes it more structurally stable, a key attribute. Before gluing the back onto the side ribs I tapered the fan bars from end to end leaving them highest at their midpoint and reduced to zero at each end. The two edge bars originally were only 2.5mm at their highest point with the center three measuring 5mm. I gave mine a little more heft starting at 3.2mm and increasing each pair gradually to 5.25 for the center bar. Once I was satisfied  I glued the back in place.

Jerry Willard Photo 2013 (enlarged)

Now that the soundboard was finished I was back to the original problem -- replacing the bridge. This is a photo of the original  bridge as it appeared last year when I first received the guitar to correct its false intonation. The front peaked edge of the bridge acts as a saddle. At some point it had been altered perhaps because it broke off. Regardless of the reason, two or three millimeters of its height were removed leaving a flat surface. A new rounded piece of ebony was substituted. Part of the work that I did last year involved replacing this piece with a similar piece but one that compensated for the intonation of each string.

This is the bridge that I made to use as a replacement. Its design differs from the original in two important aspects.

First, it has a separate saddle that can be raised, lowered or exchanged. It is important to me and to Jerry that the guitar play perfectly in tune. The top of the saddle is sculpted to provide the necessary compensation for each string. The second feature is the scalloped extension to the rear of the bridge. Panormo did use this feature but I thought the build date for Jerry's guitar predated its use. Since I thought it was important to provide as much gluing surface for the new bridge as possible I included this feature. Also, I shaped the entire bridge including the side wings from the same piece of ebony. Because the surface of the top in this area was irregular I shaped the bottom of the bridge to fit the unique contour of the soundboard and glued it in place, including into the depression that I described earlier.
This completed the job but the story does not end here. Jerry posted a series of photos of his repaired Panormo on Facebook that drew a number of responses among which was a question of concerning  the date of his guitar . Jerry and I believed it to be 1831 and build number 2152. Chris Susans, noting similarities between Jerry's guitar and his duet partner, Wendy Jackson's 1834 Panormo, asked Jerry to post a photo of his label.

                                                There it is: 1834 and build number 2154.

                    By the way. My blog passed 50,000 page views this past weekend. Thank you all.