The Sound Post

The Luthier's Apprentice

Chapter 22: The Sound Post

The sound post is a dowel of spruce six millimeters in diameter and approximately fifty-two millimeters long, a cylinder so small that it can be held between the thumb and the forefinger, so light that it can be balanced on the tip of the index finger, so plain that it looks like nothing, looks like a scrap, looks like the offcut from a larger operation, the kind of piece that a person who did not know what it was would sweep from the bench into the bin without a second thought, and the not-knowing would be the error, because the sound post is the most acoustically significant single element of the violin, more significant than the arching, more significant than the graduation, more significant than the f-holes or the bass bar or the varnish, the sound post the element that determines the balance between the treble and the bass, the element that couples the top plate to the back plate, the element that transforms two separate vibrating surfaces into a single unified acoustic system, and the transformation is achieved by a dowel of spruce the size of a pencil, and the dowel is not glued.

Not glued. Not fastened. Not secured by any adhesive or mechanical device. The sound post is held in position by friction alone, by the pressure of the two plates against its ends, the top plate pressing down and the back plate pressing up and the sound post wedged between them, the wedging the fit, the fit the function, the function the sound. The sound post can be moved. The sound post can be adjusted. The sound post can be repositioned by inserting a thin metal tool through the f-hole and pushing the dowel a fraction of a millimeter in any direction, and the fraction of a millimeter changes the sound, changes the balance, changes the character of the instrument, the instrument's voice altered by a movement so small that the eye cannot see it, the movement visible only in the sound, the sound the evidence, the sound the measure.

Giovanni taught Nadia to set the sound post on a May afternoon. The teaching was the last of the technical lessons, the last of the skills that the apprenticeship would transmit, the sound post being the final element of the violin's construction, the element that was installed after everything else was complete, after the body was closed and the neck was glued and the fingerboard was fitted and the pegs were installed and the varnish was cured, the sound post the last act, the act that completed the instrument, the act that gave the instrument its voice.

He held the sound post between his thumb and forefinger. He held it up to the light from the north-facing windows and the light illuminated the dowel, the grain of the spruce visible in the small cylinder, the grain running the length of the dowel, the grain tight, the grain the same tight grain of the Val di Fiemme spruce that constituted the top plate, the grain the identity, the identity the material, the material the sound.

He said: the Italians call it l'anima. The soul. The soul of the violin. The name was not a metaphor. The name was a description, a technical description expressed in the language of the workshop, the language that named the essential thing by its essential quality, and the essential quality of the sound post was that it was the soul, the element without which the violin was not a violin but a box, a hollow box of wood that vibrated but did not sing, that produced sound but did not produce voice, and the voice was the soul, and the soul was the sound post, and the sound post was this dowel, this cylinder, this small piece of spruce held between the thumb and the forefinger of a seventy-eight-year-old man.

L'anima. Nadia heard the word and the word entered her the way the Italian words had been entering her for eight months, the words accumulating in the growing vocabulary that was her workshop Italian, the Italian that was not the Italian of the textbook or the conversation class but the Italian of the craft, the Italian of the tools and the wood and the techniques, the Italian that she spoke with Giovanni and that Giovanni spoke with her, the Italian that was their shared language, the language of the making. L'anima. The soul. The word was the lesson, the lesson that began with the word and that would end with the setting of the dowel inside the violin, the setting that was the teaching, the teaching that was the craft.

Giovanni showed her the sound post setter. The setter was a thin metal tool, a rod approximately twenty-five centimeters long with a forked tip at one end and a bent tip at the other, the forked tip for gripping the sound post and the bent tip for adjusting it once it was inside the instrument, the two tips the two functions, the inserting and the adjusting, the two functions that constituted the setting of the sound post, and the setting was the conversation, the conversation between the maker and the instrument that Giovanni had spoken of when he described the setup, the conversation that asked the instrument what it needed and that listened for the answer.

He demonstrated on a practice violin. Not the last violin, not the instrument that was being built, but an older instrument, one of the violins from the front room wall, the instrument taken from its peg and placed on the workbench, the instrument serving as the teaching instrument, the instrument on which Nadia would learn before she was permitted to approach the instrument that mattered, the learning on the practice instrument the same principle as the learning on the practice plate, the principle that the ruining must happen on the thing that can be ruined, the thing that can absorb the mistake without loss.

He removed the strings. He loosened the pegs and removed the strings and removed the bridge, the bridge lifted from the top plate and set aside, the top plate now bare, the f-holes open, the interior of the violin visible through the f-holes, the interior dark, the interior the space in which the sound post would be set, the space between the top plate and the back plate, the space that was the violin's acoustic chamber, the chamber in which the sound was born.

He showed her the current sound post. She looked through the right f-hole and she could see it, the small dowel standing between the plates, the dowel pale in the darkness of the interior, the dowel standing like a column in a temple, the column supporting nothing visible but supporting everything audible, the column the connection between the top and the bottom, the connection that was the coupling, the coupling that was the sound.

He inserted the setter through the f-hole. The forked tip gripped the top of the sound post. He twisted the setter and the sound post tilted, the friction between the dowel's ends and the plates releasing, the release allowing the sound post to be moved, and he moved it, tilted it, pulled it toward the f-hole, and the sound post came through the opening, the dowel emerging from the violin's interior like a splinter extracted from skin, the emergence the removal, the removal the beginning of the lesson.

He held the removed sound post. He held it next to a new sound post, a new dowel of spruce that he had prepared, the two dowels the same diameter but slightly different in length, the new dowel cut to the specific length that this instrument required, the length measured by Giovanni using a caliper inserted through the f-hole, the caliper measuring the distance between the inner surfaces of the top plate and the back plate at the position where the sound post would stand, and the distance was the length, and the length was cut, and the cutting was precise, the dowel cut with a knife, the ends cut at a slight angle to match the curvatures of the inner surfaces, the angle the fit, the fit the function.

He said: the length must be exact. Too short and the post falls. Too long and the post distorts the plates, pushes the top plate up and the back plate down, the distortion visible as a bump on the top plate's surface, the bump the sign of a sound post that is too long, the too-long the error, the error audible in the sound, the sound becoming harsh, the harshness the distortion, the distortion the too-long. The exact length is the length that holds the post in position by friction without distorting the plates, the length that creates the pressure without the force, and the pressure without the force is the correct fit, and the correct fit is the setting.

He inserted the new sound post. He gripped it with the setter's forked tip. He angled the setter through the right f-hole, the angle precise, the angle allowing the dowel to pass through the narrow opening without touching the edges, the touching the risk, the risk of chipping the varnish at the f-hole's edge, the chip the damage, the damage the error, the error the care, the care the craft. The dowel passed through the f-hole and entered the dark interior and Giovanni manipulated the setter, the setter turning, the dowel tilting, the dowel finding its vertical orientation, the dowel standing between the plates.

He positioned the post. The position was behind the right foot of the bridge, the position measured not in millimeters from the bridge but in the maker's judgment, the judgment of fifty years of setting sound posts and hearing the results, the results the knowledge, the knowledge the position. He moved the post with the setter's bent tip, the tip pushing the post a fraction of a millimeter at a time, the fraction the variable, the variable the experiment, each position a hypothesis, the hypothesis tested by the sound, the sound the evidence, the evidence the conclusion.

He tapped the top plate. He tapped with his knuckle, the knuckle striking the surface above the sound post's position, and the plate rang, and the ringing was a pitch, and the pitch was a frequency, and the frequency was the information, the information telling the maker about the coupling, the coupling between the top plate and the back plate, the coupling that the sound post mediated, the sound post the mediator, the mediator the soul.

He adjusted. He moved the post a hair's breadth to the south. He tapped again. The pitch changed. The change was subtle, was the change of a fraction of a hertz, the fraction audible to the trained ear, the ear that Giovanni possessed and that Nadia was developing, the ear of the maker, the ear that heard the position in the pitch, the pitch the map, the map showing where the post was and where the post should be, and the distance between was and should was the adjustment, and the adjustment was the conversation, and the conversation was the craft.

He moved the post again. He tapped. He listened. He moved. He tapped. He listened. The cycle repeated, the cycle the conversation, the conversation between the maker and the instrument, the conversation conducted through a dowel the size of a pencil, the conversation in which the maker asked and the instrument answered and the answer was the pitch and the pitch was the position and the position was the soul.

He stopped. He tapped one final time. He listened. He nodded.

The nod was the conclusion, the conclusion of the conversation, the conversation having reached its resolution, the resolution the correct position, the position in which the sound post coupled the plates with the correct pressure and at the correct angle and in the correct location, the correct being the position that produced the balance, the balance between treble and bass, the balance that was the voice, the voice that was the instrument, the instrument that was the craft.

He handed the setter to Nadia.

The handing was the teaching. The handing was the transfer, the transfer of the tool from the master's hand to the apprentice's hand, the transfer that said: now you do this, now you learn this, now you try, and the trying was the lesson, and the lesson was the last lesson, the lesson of l'anima, the lesson of the soul.

She took the setter. She held it in her right hand. The tool was light, was thin, was unremarkable in its appearance, a rod of metal with two tips, but the unremarkable appearance was the disguise, the disguise concealing the importance, the importance the thing that could not be seen but that could be heard, and the hearing was the purpose, and the purpose was the setting.

Giovanni removed the sound post he had just set. He removed it with the spare setter, the dowel extracted through the f-hole, the dowel handed to Nadia, the dowel in her left hand, the setter in her right hand, the two objects the tools, the tools the lesson.

She gripped the dowel with the setter's forked tip. She angled the setter toward the f-hole. She inserted the dowel through the opening. The dowel passed through the f-hole and entered the dark interior and Nadia felt the dowel's tip contact the inner surface of the back plate, the contact the arrival, the dowel inside the instrument, the dowel between the plates, the dowel waiting to be positioned.

She manipulated the setter. She turned it, trying to stand the dowel upright, trying to find the vertical, the vertical the orientation, the orientation the first step. The dowel tilted. The dowel leaned. The dowel fell, the dowel tipping over inside the instrument and lying on the inner surface of the back plate, the lying the failure, the first failure, the failure of the first attempt, and the failure was expected, was normal, was the practice plate of the sound post setting, the failure the beginning of the learning.

She tried again. She gripped the fallen dowel through the f-hole, the setter's forked tip finding the dowel in the dark interior, the finding the skill, the skill of working blind, the skill of the hands working in a space the eyes could not see, the skill that required the hands to develop their own sight, the sight of touch, the sight that felt the dowel's position and the dowel's angle and the dowel's relationship to the plates, the relationship that the hands assessed without the eyes, the assessment the touch, the touch the craft.

She stood the dowel. The dowel tilted and she corrected, the correction the adjustment, the adjustment small, the setter turning a degree, two degrees, and the dowel straightened, the dowel approaching the vertical, the vertical the goal, and the goal was approaching, and the approaching was the skill, and the skill was building.

The dowel stood. The dowel was vertical, was wedged between the plates, was held by friction, the friction the fit, the fit the function. The dowel was standing inside the violin in approximately the correct position, approximately behind the right foot of the bridge, approximately the correct distance from the center line, and the approximately was the apprentice's approximately, the approximately that was not the master's exactly but that was closer than the first attempt and that would become closer with the second attempt and closer still with the third, the closer-to being the asymptote, the asymptote being the apprenticeship.

Giovanni tapped the plate. He tapped above the sound post and the plate rang and the ringing was a pitch and the pitch was not the pitch that Giovanni's setting had produced, the pitch slightly different, the difference the position, the position slightly off, and the slightly-off was the learning, the learning in the difference between the master's pitch and the apprentice's pitch, the difference the distance, the distance the thing that the practice would close.

He looked at Nadia. He looked with the assessing attention. He did not correct her. He did not take the setter from her hands. He did not adjust the post himself. He looked and the looking was the instruction, the instruction to listen, to hear the pitch, to hear the difference, to hear the distance, and the hearing was the lesson, and the lesson was: move it.

She moved the post. She inserted the setter's bent tip through the f-hole and she pushed the post, the push gentle, the push a fraction of a millimeter, the fraction the variable, and the post moved, and she withdrew the setter, and Giovanni tapped, and the pitch changed, and the change was in the correct direction, the pitch moving toward the pitch that Giovanni's setting had produced, the pitch approaching, the approaching the learning.

She adjusted again. Push. Tap. Listen. Push. Tap. Listen. The cycle that Giovanni had performed, the cycle that was the conversation, the conversation that Nadia was now having with the instrument, the conversation in which she asked the instrument: is this right, is this the position, is this where you want the soul, and the instrument answered in pitches, and the pitches were the answers, and the answers were approaching the correct.

She stopped. She tapped the plate herself. She listened. The pitch was close. The pitch was not Giovanni's pitch, was not the master's pitch, was the apprentice's pitch, the pitch that was close enough to be recognizable and far enough to be improvable, and the improvable was the future, the future being the next attempt and the attempt after that and the fifty years of attempts that would follow if she continued, if she stayed, if she committed to the craft.

Giovanni tapped. He listened. He did not nod. The not-nodding was the assessment, the assessment that the position was close but not correct, not yet correct, the not-yet the apprenticeship, the apprenticeship the distance between the close and the correct, the distance that the practice would close, the practice that was the years, the years that were the craft.

He said: again.

She removed the post. She reinserted it. She positioned it. She adjusted it. She tapped. She listened. She adjusted again.

The afternoon passed. The light from the north-facing windows moved across the workshop in the slow progression of the May afternoon, the light the clock, the clock the work, the work the setting of the sound post, the setting repeated, the repetition the practice, the practice the learning, the learning the craft.

She set the post ten times. Each time the position was slightly different. Each time the pitch was slightly different. Each time the difference between her setting and Giovanni's ideal was slightly smaller, the difference decreasing with each attempt, the decreasing the curve, the learning curve, the curve that approached the asymptote, the asymptote the master's setting, the setting that she would spend years approaching and that she might never reach and that the approaching was the point, the point being not the arrival but the journey, the journey being the craft.

On the tenth attempt Giovanni tapped and the pitch was close, was very close, was within the range that Giovanni accepted, and he looked at her and he did not nod but his eyes changed, the change subtle, the change the teacher's recognition of the student's progress, the recognition that was not praise but acknowledgment, the acknowledgment that the skill was entering the hands, the skill of the soul, the skill of l'anima, the skill of the small dowel of spruce that determined the voice of the instrument.

She held the setter in her hand. She held it the way she held all the tools now, with the familiarity that eight months of daily practice had developed, the familiarity that was not mastery but competence, the competence that was the foundation, the foundation on which the mastery would be built, the building the years, the years the craft.

The sound post stood inside the practice violin. The dowel of spruce, six millimeters in diameter, wedged between the plates, held by friction, not glued, not fastened, the soul of the instrument held in place by nothing more than the pressure of the wood against the wood, the top plate pressing down and the back plate pressing up and the dowel between them, the dowel the connection, the connection the coupling, the coupling the sound.

Move it a millimeter and the voice changes.

This was the lesson. This was the lesson of the sound post, the lesson of l'anima, the lesson that the most important element of the violin is the smallest, the most invisible, the most easily moved, the element that a millimeter's shift transforms, the element that is the conversation between the maker and the instrument conducted through a dowel the size of a pencil.

The conversation between the maker and the instrument.

The conversation conducted through a dowel.

The dowel the soul.

And the soul was the sound.

And the sound was the thing.

And the thing was a cylinder of spruce, six millimeters in diameter, held by friction, not glued, and the not-glued was the freedom, the freedom to adjust, the freedom to move, the freedom to change the voice, the freedom that the maker needed because the voice was not fixed, the voice was a variable, the voice was the product of the conversation, and the conversation was ongoing, and the ongoing was the craft.

And the craft was l'anima.

And l'anima was the soul.

And the soul was the sound post.

And the sound post was enough.