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    Bowmaking Passion of a Lifetime
    Bowmaking Passion of a Lifetime
    Bowmaking Passion of a Lifetime
    Ebook68 pages47 minutes

    Bowmaking Passion of a Lifetime

    By Giovanni Lucchi

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    About this ebook

    There was nothing ordinary about Giovanni Lucchi and his craft. He was one of the most famous bow makers in the world. He made bows for stringed instruments that have been placed into the hands of the greatest contemporary musicians.

    Elegant, a little ‘sly, serious and playful at the same time‘, Giovanni Lucchi stayed focused in his laboratory, but was always open to the world, aiming to grasp every little vibration. The exact moment when it was decided to tell his story was a unique experience. The scarf around his neck, his eyes bright, the rhythm between his fingers, have entrusted us with his triumphs and his weaknesses, his experiments and his failures, his method and his hopes.? This is an autobiography that tries to put a little - ‘not too much’ – of the order among his memories. Since he was a child, climbing on the stool to face the doublebass (which was much taller than he was), he devised an empirical method for measuring the vibration transmissibility of the wood. He played with friends up and down the Adriatic Coast. He also earned the trust of Rostropovich, creating for him an elastic and springing bow, similar to his intelligence and his passion.

    Giovanni Lucchi, bowmaker born in 1942 in Cesena, a town in Emilia Romagna (Italy), died suddenly in Cremona in August 2012, shortly after writing this brief autobiography. These pages contain his memoirs, his principles and his projects, all of which have become his legacy. He has left an invaluable treasure for those who will follow the path he has traced with intelligence, creativity and great passion.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFondazione Lucchi Cremona
    Release dateOct 16, 2013
    ISBN9788890868344
    Bowmaking Passion of a Lifetime

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      Book preview

      Bowmaking Passion of a Lifetime - Giovanni Lucchi

      Bowmaking

      Prologue

      In Cesena, where I was born, the o in Amarcord is pronounced as a closed vowel. Closed and protected, as was my childhood, overshadowed by the Boss Man. That was what my father, Arnaldo, was called by his friends, and also by the workers in his small building business. And deep down that was how I considered him, fearing as I did his judgement, respecting his authority and being, at times, victim of his diktats. He inflicted his own passion for music on me and insisted on my learning to play the double bass, but I hated studying and only wanted to be a worker. But why not the violin? The viola? The cello?? No, the double bass. Because his friend Mimmo had explained to him that the double bass has a vast repertoire, ranging from symphonic music to jazz and including all that lies between. He added that every orchestra or small band needs a double bass.

      And that is how I see myself when I think back to when I was a youngster, bent under the weight of that enormous instrument that rhythmically knocked against my leg. I pedalled along to the Cenacolo of the Artists in Cesena without a care in the world. When I was about fourteen, I used to play at parties and at Sunday Mass with some retired musicians and the odd student from the Conservatory of Pesaro, which I had begun to attend. There were my friends - the cellists Giacomo Zani and Franco Fantini, the Partisani brothers, one a double bass and the other a cellist. Also there were the two legendary (?) violinists, Ms. Mordenti and Ms. Budellacci. Lastly, there was Mimmo’s son Enzo Neri, who invariably came to listen to us. It was incredible, but five years had already passed since I had to climb up on a stool so that I could hold the monster steady while I clumsily drew the bow across those interminable strings.

      My first teacher at Cesena slept all the time, slumped over his big tummy, and I took things easy. At home I often pretended to be practicing while standing in front of the window where the Big Boss could keep an eye on me. Actually my eyes were glued to the pages of one of the comics of that time, which were skilfully inserted between the various sheets of music. I had become an authority on Tex, the Adventurer more than I was on solfeggio and music theory and I was not above Mickey Mouse. At that time, as a child, I was blissfully unaware of the dire consequences. But when I moved on to the Conservatory at Pesaro and into the hands of Maestro Giorgio Scala, I found that I was far below what I had thought to be the required standard, and more importantly, what the Big Boss had hoped for. I realizzed at once that it would have been an unbearable blow for him. Not wanting to disappoint him or hurt him in any way, I did not tell him I had only been admitted to the first year course instead of the second.

      It’s the parents’ fault if their children become liars. It’s the parents who interfere in their children’s lives without leaving them free to choose. It’s the parents who impose their own ambitions and, above all, their own frustrations on their children. In my case, lying was a matter of survival, not a question of principle, even less a form of transgression or a matter of pride. I felt I had no alternative, but the price I paid was high. Even today, the thought of it makes me shudder. I signed the reports myself, unbeknownst to Maestro Scala, who perhaps could have eased my burden had he only realized what was going on. It was a secret that weighed heavily on me for seven years. I became morose and my studies, which by nature I loathed anyway, became even more

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