True story: I woke up in the middle of the night last night knowing that something was off in the photo of the fixture. This morning, I realized I’d left off holes for the top and bottom block clamps. Fortunately, this was a sin of omission rather than commission, so I set things right this morning.
And speaking of mistakes, you’ll notice just to the north of Mr. Big Fixture is a teensy fixture with blocks already glued on it. This is a blog about fiddle #1, but fiddle #1 is actually composed of two instruments: a copy of a Maggini violin (that’s the big one) and a 1/16 sized violin. Doing a small violin at the same time is the idea of the gent who is teaching me this craft, Carl, and I think it’s a fine one. I do things first on the little guy, so I can learn and, importantly, make mistakes.
And speaking of, here was that little violin fixture a few days ago:
You’ll note that the ribs (those are the “sides” of the violin) are already bent, trimmed, and the rib structure is already popped off the fixture. Looks pretty good right? My skills of clever photography far outstrip my skill at lutherie. In fact the corners were crappy and not properly attached. Carl was nice, but suggested I do it again. Honestly, as much as I’d like to have moved on to the next step, I know he was right.
I’ve been meditating on patience a bunch recently, and it wouldn’t be too big of a stretch to say that the subtitle of this blog could be “thinking on patience.” There are many pursuits in life in which you can use the end goal to pull you through the process that leads to it. I can list a half-dozen that I’ve done myself. Some even require that mindset, I’d argue — writing a novel for instance. In that kind of pursuit, a mistake is a setback, something to be overcome or ignored if possible. You make it to the end and then you sort out what you have to fix.
I haven’t been making the fiddle for long, but I can see already that it’s going to require the same mindset as running an ultra. If you start a 100 mile run thinking about the finish line, you’re not going to finish. Period. You get to the other end of the 100 by developing a deep enjoyment (in the broadest sense) of the moment you’re currently living, the step you’re currently taking. If you manage those moments well, eventually you look up and you have 20 miles to go. If you’re smart, you don’t think about the end long then either because 20 miles is a long way to go, and having 80 miles in the can is no help when you’re being crushed by knowing you have a long way to go. The only answer is the next step, one foot in front of the other.
That’s the mindset I’m going to work to cultivate making this fiddle.
