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Ed Arnold: String-Tie Kind of Guy

Ed Arnold: String-Tie Kind of Guy

by Nicholas Von Robison

Originally published in American Lutherie #7, 1986 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie, Volume One, 2000



Ed Arnold is a crew-cut and string-tie kind of guy. I met him while crewing aboard his son-in-law’s thirty-two foot sloop Iolaire on definitely not a crew- cut and string-tie kind of day. As a storm scudded down on us and I ejected my lunch off to leeward, I watched Ed go forward with the lithe grace of an athlete to hank on the storm jib on that bucking bronco of a foredeck.

Ed turned sixty-seven in June. He’s the kind of guy you can picture being at home on a rugged wilderness trail or negotiating a mountain pass on a donkey, and making it look easy. In his sixteen years as an exotic wood importer I’m sure he has ridden a few donkeys and walked a few dusty miles. A one-man operation, he went into Mexico and Central America, selected his trees, oversaw their handling and production, then shipped them home by container. He knows wood in a way that few luthiers ever will, our work beginning with the end result of Ed’s labors. I obtained some answers to things I have pondered over from time to time and even some I haven’t. Anybody know the Mexican name for mahogany? Zopilozontecomacuahitl.

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Blood, Sweat & Sap

Blood, Sweat & Sap

by Nicholas Von Robison

Originally published as Guild of American Luthiers Quarterly Volume 10, #2, 1982



Sometime last spring I dreamed I was back in the Northwest for a short vacation. I had gone there to enjoy the trees - and was stunned to learn there weren’t any! All the forests had been paved over for condos, trailer parks, ski lodges, and fast food joints.

I don’t know just what triggered such a nightmare. I have learned in recent years that beer and pizza don’t go down as easily after midnight as they used to. More likely it was something I had read. I often read things (and more often write things) that are equally indigestible. But never after midnight.

No, it was probably the conversation with a luthier friend of mine, a splinter group agnostic who confessed to me that he really doesn’t believe that trees have a life of their own, that they speak to you in voices loud and soft, or that they should be approached as shrines. He tossed off Torres, Stradivari, Orville, C.F.; had only started his preachings on epoxy, graphite, fiberglass and polymers before I straight-armed him with a braced soundboard and tapped out a few tones. He recoiled of course, but on his way out the door parleyed that he could never accept the divinity of the old masters although they were great teachers. I’ll never attend woodshop vespers with that fellow again!

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The Case for Using Natural Dyes

The Case for Using Natural Dyes

by Nicholas Von Robison

Originally published in Guild of American Luthiers Quarterly Volume 11, #1, 1983 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie, Volume One, 2000



Luthiers do not need to color their raw materials as much as other woodworkers. We use fine woods that can stand on their own merit without any help from the dye pot. But now and then we do find a need for dyes: for example, for rosettes, bindings, taking grey streaks from ebony, enhancing the color cast of wood, and tinting finishes.

In 1856 young William Henry Perkin was trying to synthesize quinine but instead wound up with a black tarry mess. This was mauveine, the first of the coal-tar derived dyes. By 1900 the aniline dyes (coal-tar derived) had virtually replaced all other dye materials. Up to this point, dyeing was done with naturally occurring materials and was more of an art than a science. With aniline dyes results were predictable, repeatable, stable, nonfading, and a heck of a lot simpler. There was bound to be a reaction, of course. The art of natural dyeing is returning to the amateur weavers and textile artists; I doubt if woodworkers will be far behind.

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Seedlac

Seedlac

by Nicholas Von Robison

Originally published in Guild of American Luthiers Data Sheet #150, 1980 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume One, 2000



Seedlac resin, when combined with alcohol, gives a magnificent spirit varnish suitable for spraying or French polishing with qualities far superior to its better known cousin shellac. It’s more transparent, faster drying, harder, and more resistant to scuffing and moisture. The latter quality is of particular value as sweaty hands can play havoc on a shellac-based finish on a musical instrument. With all this going for it, it is not well known or used by luthiers to a great extent. The primary reason is that the major paint and varnish manufacturers buy most of the crop for their own needs, leaving little for the small-scale importers.

About 60% of the resin is collected from an area between Calcutta and Central India with lesser amounts coming from Myanmar, Thailand, and Laos. There is a distinct difference in the resin color from different areas. The lac west of Calcutta is yellow or orange, east and south of Calcutta it is red, a pale red in Assam, and a dark red in Thailand. The resin comes from various indigenous trees, primarily kusam (Scheichera trijuga) which has the best color (pale yellow) and quality, but others such as pala (Wrightia tomentosa), ber (Berrya amomilla), and ghont (Bursera serrata). Two crops occur each year, summer and winter, and they revolve around the life cycle of a scale-like insect (Laccifer lacca) which infests the host trees. This small (about the size of an apple seed) red critter was cultivated as early as 80 A.D. for the purplish dye it contains. But not until 1580, in the records of Akbar the Great, do we find any mention of seedlac resin for varnish making.

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The Sami-Sen

The Sami-Sen

by Nicholas Von Robison

Originally published in American Lutherie #12, 1987 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume One, 2000



The Sami-Sen (pronounced and sometimes spelled “shamisen”) is one of the trinity of Japan’s important musical instruments, the koto and shakuhachi* being the other two. The equivalent of the Chinese san hsien, this three-stringed lute was originally a solo instrument, played by a wife for her husband, or a lone musician for his or her own enjoyment (and Buddha’s too!). Not until the Edo period (early 17th to mid-19th centuries) was the sami-sen used in <em>gagaku</em> (orchestral) and chamber ensembles. In recent years there has been a revival in the ancient solo literature, many of the solo pieces being conceived of as an aid to meditation. Poetic and descriptive song titles that reflect tone-painting are not uncommon.

The drawing was done from an instrument whose equivalent is probably the Volkswagon or the Sears Silvertone. Even though this bottom-of-the-line instrument shows some crudeness (the inside arch to the soundbox sides appears to have been hacked out with an adz), it is still remarkable. The neck joints fit perfectly, and the soundbox wood is a fine-figured, mahogany-like hardwood that is very attractive. Mrs. Richard Ota, a sami-sen teacher and performer, obtained for me strings, bridge, and pegs, and she owns an instrument of similar caliber to mine, plus a really nice instrument. Lacking a fretboard, once the performer’s fingers have put a hollow in the neck from the most used fretting positions after a few years, the neck is useless. For that reason, the serious sami-sen player owns a cheap instrument for practice and a better one reserved for performing.

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