Changes are the rule, and so what I think about my way of making period bows has slightly changed.
In a previous post, I wrote:
“I prefer to make copies as accurately close as possible to the original bows, not only because I believe that the old makers were old, not foolish, but above all because my experience has taught me that original bows work well on the instruments of their time.”
I still stand by that.
In the same post, I also wrote:
“Old makers built bows suited to their clients’ needs… it’s no problem for me to make changes to a model according to the needs of a particular musician.”
I still stand by that too.
In fact, I still agree with almost everything I’ve written before.
So what has changed?
Perhaps my point of view.
It’s as if, until a certain moment, I believed that what truly mattered was making bows that were beautiful and good — not masterpieces (I never had such illusions), but well-made objects — and that I myself was the central figure in this creative process.
Then, one day, I felt quite clearly that things were not exactly that way.
I understood that my role was “only” to create tools — tools through which others would make music. I realized that I could let go of my ego and become part of a collective musical process that involves many other people.
From that moment, I began to listen more carefully — to understand musicians’ needs and to provide them with the best possible tool, so that together we could make music.
The feeling was that one must become small in order to achieve something great.
And that was when I began to make better bows.
And to feel like a better person.
