Violin Repair Time

 I'm not one to brag about my instruments.  I truly feel that a good player can make an instrument sound "good"; not necessarily any instrument, but many.  So it's not all in the instrument, it's in the familiarity of the player to the needs of the instrument. 

Why do I start with this?  Because I own instruments by an "unknown" maker, and although they may not be worthy of Carnegie Hall, they sound great to me, and fortunately, most people that hear me play.  I recently decided my no-name instruments needed much overdue attention for open seams and potentially other problems, and my bows needed rehairing and maybe new grips.  I trucked on down to Syracuse, NY to my now-favorite violin place, Hosmer Violins. 

Tom Hosmer, who's been in the business a long time, is a solid bluegrass fiddler and mandolinist and whoa, and excellent repairman.  I've been in enough violin shops throughout my lifetime to know quality here.  And Tom's shop is a mess.  A wonderful mess, though it is admittedly a bit hard to navigate into the entrance crowded with instrument cases, tables, a countertop with one square foot of open space, delivery boxes of cello cases and violin shoulder rests, and various decorative items perched on any surface available. 

Making my way into the interior of the shop is like stepping into a workshop cabinet drawer.  Hundreds of items in all directions:  wood pieces, instrument parts, old strings wound into circles, new strings in packages, bottles of tints, glues, hand tools, electric tools, drawers overflowing with ingredients for repairs, postcards, instruments hanging on walls, instruments on the work table in the midst of repair.  I could go on and on and on.  It's almost comic. Yet it is serious and it is fascinating.  Tom knows where most everything is even if that seems an impossiblity at first.  Or he'll turn to a machine I thought was ancient, turn it on and run a bridge over the surface, or another saw-dusty machine that cuts a hole into a peg.