Overhead fluorescent lights dance off the rounded edges and resin hues of the 256-year-old cello lying on the bench. The warm, soft glow of wood stands in stark contrast to the brightly lit white walls of the workshop.

With almost studied nonchalance, the workman grabs the instrument by the neck, flips it deftly on its side, and with one quick thrust plunges his blade between ribs and belly.

The instrument responds with a gut-wrenching c-r-a-a-ck that reverberates through the Queen Anne Hill studio. Ancient glue joining top plate to ribs reluctantly gives up its clench in a succession of heart-stopping snaps.

It's an ordeal for the visitor watching in the shop.

The patient is a Stradivarius cello made in 1732 by Francesco Stradivari, and one slip of the knife will damage or destroy one of the world's great string instruments. Conservative estimates place its value at about $500,000.

The owner, a musician in Bellingham, sent the instrument to Seattle last summer for repairs before putting it up for sale. In years past, selling or repairing a cello of this value would have meant carefully packing and shipping it to New York, Chicago or Philadelphia to put the top craftsmen to work on it.

"But there's no one in the world I'd feel more comfortable working on this than Rafael Carrabba," says the musician, who, typical of some owners of rare instruments, wishes to keep his identity private. "He's one of the best craftsmen in the world and a major asset to the Northwest."

Three years ago, Carrabba returned to Seattle from London to set up shop, and now many of these top instruments come to him for repair and restoration. The workers in Carrabba's shop on the top of Queen Anne restore and sell all types of string instruments.

His international reputation as a violin restorer and maker working in some of the world's most famous shops has attracted attention from all over, including a Russian cellist now living in London who came all the way to Seattle last spring to buy one of Carrabba's restored instruments, a 1790 Vincenzo.

His twice-a-year trips to Europe to buy instruments and attend violin auctions and his extensive international network of contacts have enabled him to acquire an evolving collection of rare and valuable instruments - among them Panormos, Gobettis, several English instruments and the Stradivarius.

Carrabba looks like he could have stepped right out of a medieval painting. His straight dark hair cut in an even line across his forehead and a scraggly close-cropped beard frame a face of delicate features dominated by intense brown eyes. Slight of build, he practices martial arts and talks quietly of the discipline of uniting body with mind in his work.

Carrabba is acknowledged by many in the international violin community as one of the best young instrument craftsmen in the world. Born in 1952 in the Rainier Valley area known as "Garlic Gulch," Carrabba got his first job in a violin shop when he was 12, apprenticing with David Saunders, who ran a well- known shop nearby.

He spent time in the shop after school and on weekends sweeping floors, grinding bow rosins and cleaning violins. Saunders recognized early on that his young student had an instinctive feel for instruments, what he called a "gift for the intangibles."

A year later, Carrabba talked himself into a summer job apprenticing with the late Kenneth Warren, a leading instrument maker in Chicago, when he was able to instantly memorize and identify bow types in their cases.

"Warren has a slightly English attitude," said Carrabba. "He taught me how to reconstruct instruments in my mind, really see them, not just look at them. Years later in London, I could walk into a room and recognize a violin from 10 feet away."

Carrabba has worked in some of the most prestigious violin shops in the world.

IN 1972 he landed a job with William Moennig in Philadelphia. "Moennig was tough," said Carrabba. "He would come and scare the hell out of me. He made me work faster and not fuss so much."

After two years, Moennig found Carrabba a job with Charles Beares in London. Beares owns the biggest shop in Europe.

Working in Europe was an eye-opener. European ideas of conservation conflicted with what he had learned about restoration in America.

"Americans approach an instrument with an eye toward making it new again, or at least making it appear new," Carrabba said. "In completing a job, they re-stain areas of natural wear, making the varnish look even - a slick job.

"In England, they consider wear in the varnish a part of the character of the instrument and important that it be preserved. Nothing in London proceeds quickly; they don't do anything to an instrument that can't be removed or corrected."

Carrabba was the youngest worker at Beares. The shop kept up a lively camaraderie playing guessing games to see who could identify newly acquired instruments first. Famous touring artists frequently dropped in, keeping the restorers busy with questions and impromptu concerts as they tried out the stock on hand.

ONE FAMOUS visitor was Pinchas Zukerman, who, as he came down on the final note of his concert the night before, caught the tip of his bow on his $300,000 violin, ripping off a large chunk of it. He nervously stood by as the workshop reconstructed the instrument.

"Actually," said Carrabba, "instruments usually sound better than ever after we repair them. We put them back together, regluing and tightening all the joints, sealing cracks and realigning everything perfectly. The owner usually comes in to find he has a better instrument."

Three years ago, Carrabba returned to Seattle when his first teacher, Saunders, decided to sell his shop and retire. Almost weekly now, he gets calls from shops all over the world inquiring about his stock, and his local clients include members of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra, Northwest Chamber Orchestra, and other musicians from the Northwest and Canada.

Violinist and former Seattle Symphony concertmaster Henry Siegl says Carrabba is "more important to me than my heart doctor. His intensity, curiosity and knowledge - I've watched him work on my Guarnerius. He has the feeling of a craftsman who knows his wood. He knows what I want out of my fiddle, and he can get it for me."

Already, as word has gotten out about the availability of the Stradivarius, musicians have begun lining up for the opportunity to see it. The principal cellist of a major orchestra in the East has been promised a first look, and Carrabba expects little trouble finding a buyer.

Though he has worked on instruments of this caliber before, having the Strad here is a step toward establishing Seattle in the international market.

By Douglas McLennan P-I Music Critic TUESDAY, December 13, 1988

The Article can be found online HERE

Dr. Ray Carlsen, a dermatologist, was 50 before he finally picked up the cello, fulfilling a long-held dream of learning to play.

He loves the sound of the cello, and he loves the instruments - all 40 of them, made in the 18th through 20th centuries - which he now owns and lends out for free to gifted youngsters who need a fine instrument they can take to the next level.

"I knew that when I started at 50, I wouldn't attract many listeners!" says Carlsen, a soft-spoken man of unfailing courtesy who handles these instruments with the delicacy of a surgeon.

"But I gained a feeling for what talent can do. And I saw a need for fine instruments among young players who were getting an earlier start on the cello than I could."

Carlsen's Bellevue-based Carlsen Cello Foundation has evolved in the past six months to fill the need for the instrument he loves the best. Professional-quality instruments pose an eternal roadblock for gifted young musicians. They aspire to the stars, they practice like demons - and their forward progress is halted by the beginner's instrument that doesn't let them achieve the musical effects they need.

For young string players, the problem is usually the worst, because high-quality string instruments - ones on which players can achieve more subtle technical effects and beautiful tone - can run $10,000 to $25,000 and up. Way, way up, especially if you are talking about high-end, 17th- and 18th-century instruments from such Italian masters as Stradivari and Guarneri, which now sell in the multiple millions (when they sell at all).

To read the full article CLICK HERE 

By Melinda Bargreen

Seattle Times music critic July 8, 2001

Although the sale of old violins, and their siblings, violas and cellos, for millions of dollars capture headlines, there is another world of string instruments dramatically growing and beginning to get the public's attention.

That is the creation of high-quality violins, violas and cellos - a craft, a science, an art. Almost dead in the 1960s, it is now thriving on three continents.

``Only 20 years ago, there was merely a handful of excellent violin makers and bow makers. Now, there are many," said James N. McKean, a New York maker of strings and president-elect of the American Federation of Violin and Bow Makers, which is holding its first annual meeting in Seattle this week because the Northwest has become a center for the making of violins, violas and cellos as well as bows.

While its meetings are private, the federation will hold a public exhibition tomorrow afternoon at Plymouth Congregational Church titled ``Players Meet Makers." People can meet leading makers of violins/violas/cellos and bows from throughout the United States and see and hear their instruments.

``Making a good violin is exciting because it requires so many fields of expertise," said McKean. ``You have to know about acoustics, physics, varnish, chemistry, wood. And to make a beautiful instrument, your eye has to be refined. Parameters are tight. Differences are measured in a few millimeters. Your entire world exists within this small universe.

``The greatest achievement in the field comes from Italy in the 17th and 18th centuries. These unique instruments are so beautiful in appearance, sound and design, the challenge is to come as close to that perfection as possible. We work in the same continuum, cut on the same design, use the same materials and the same tools, although the band saw has been added.

``The best instruments don't wear out, if they are cared for," he said. ``Those made in the late 1500s are still being played and sound great. Nothing else epitomizes human endeavor the way the violin does. It is a perfect object for a specific purpose, a combination of beauty and function."

Thirty years ago, the ancient craft, which the Cremonese school - Amati, Guarneri, Stradivari - perfected, was moribund, although commercial grade instruments still constituted a good market. Professional musicians preferred old instruments, not only from various northern cities in Italy such as Cremona, Venice, Mantua, Turin and Milan, but also Paris and London.

Then, in the 1970s, Asians became fervently interested in string playing, first in Japan, then in Korea and Taiwan, and supply no longer equaled demand. Prices began to skyrocket, not only with the most celebrated instruments, which are limited to a few hundred and sell for up to several million dollars, but respectable instruments of any age. A $12,000 instrument in 1975 is now worth $250,000 to $300,000. Simultaneously, in that post-hippie age, people, especially Americans, renewed their interest in the crafts, and schools of violin-making began to crop up. Salt Lake City was particularly noteworthy.

``I was a music major at Western (Washington University) and was always interested in wood and music," said David Van Zandt, one of the Seattle's most notable makers of violins, whose shop is in Ballard. ``I thought I was cut out to be someone who worked with their hands and not their heads. I had a friend going to Salt Lake, so I went with him, took the examination and enrolled.

``I've been making violins for almost 20 years. The satisfaction is not so much financial, although I do well, but emotional because I'm creating something. I don't call myself an artist, but I am making things that are in other people's hands who are creating something as well. That feels good to me. I like to see people happy."

Van Zandt's speciality is instruments suitable for playing early music in period style, especially the Baroque. His clients are scattered across North America.

``The body (of the period instrument compared with the modern) is the same, but the setup is different, including the bridge, sound post, bass bar, fingerboard. The neck is heavier in older instruments and shorter. There is no chin rest."

Of course, all 17th- and 18th-century instruments were originally in this style, but they were altered to accommodate 19th- and 20th-century preferences and requirements. Van Zandt is also a restorer who returns converted instruments to their original style.

In the 1970s and 1980s, brand-new instruments had problems of uneven registers and lack of projection to tonal deficiencies and were frowned upon by professionals. That has changed.

``The quality of instruments has gotten so much better," said Van Zandt. ``Instruments being made right now are as good as they have ever been. Time will tell whether I am right or wrong."

The standard range for new instruments of top quality in the United States is $7,000-$15,000 for a violin and $15,000-$28,000 for a cello.

``Terrible instruments were made in the 18th century," noted McKean. ``The important distinction now should be between good and bad, not old and new."

One of the secrets to the great instruments from Cremona is their tone-enhancing varnish.

The exact properties of that varnish are still questionable, said McKean. The technology of chemical analysis has not quite caught up to the challenge of determining everything in the varnish, deciding what is relevant and, most importantly, their various proportions.

``The same ingredients can make very different dishes," he said.

What current research has revealed is the importance of the ground, the sealer between raw wood and varnish. It is this sealer, said McKean, that the wood absorbs directly and thus alters its vibrations.

``You ask a violin maker what he uses for a ground, and he will talk about the weather," said McKean. It is that crucial and that individual.

Even when they are intent on protecting the secrets of their art/craft, American violin makers want to share ideas and provide their profession with a high standard of expertise and ethics. Thus, the formation of the American Federation of Violin and Bow Makers in 1980 by 23 of the country's leading makers and dealers. To join, applicants must have a minimum of nine years of experience (six years of training and three years in business) and submit samples of their work for review, said McKean.

The federation also has constructed a Missing Property Register to aid in the recovery of stolen instruments; is involved in research projects with the Smithsonian Institution regarding varnish formulation and conservation, and has compiled a photographic database of images of 200 of the rarest and most valuable instruments and bows in this country.

In addition to its reputation for instrument and bow making, Seattle is also known for restoration work. One prominent figure is the dealer and restorer Rafael Carrabba.

The majority of Carrabba's business at his shop on Queen Anne Hill is restoration. He buys 19th- and early 20th-century instruments, restores them and then sells them, often through important dealers in New York and London.

``We can put $20,000 worth of restoration in an instrument, sell it for $100,000 and make a pretty good profit. The instruments come from all over the world."

Besides Seattle and Salt Lake City, important U.S. centers of violin making include the Bay area in California, New York, Boston and Ann Arbor, Mich. Other places are marked by outstanding individuals such as Carl Becker in Chicago and David Gussett in Eugene, Ore.

The Puget Sound area is even more renowned as a place of superb bow makers because of individuals such as Morgan Andersen on Lopez Island, Paul Siefried in Port Townsend and Charles Espey on Shaw Island.

Why here?

``Seattle is a collegial place," said Van Zandt.

``The Northwest is very desirable," agreed Carrabba. ``A lot of artists and authors are moving here. There is a strong sense of craft. The wilderness feels good to a lot of people. The city is urban, but the country is very close at hand. It's a place that lets you concentrate on your work, which is essential."

Whether it is New York or Seattle, Cremona or Beijing, the allure of making violins and bows has never been more powerful.

``Measure for measure, the basic design of the instrument has been examined by acousticians, and it is such a complex system it can't be mapped out," said McKean. ``No mathematical model is available. They still don't know how it - a resonating chamber and vibrating strings - works. That is the undefinable that science cannot reach. It is a kind of wilderness that can only be explored by intuition, like trying to find the soul in a body."

 By R.M. CAMPBELL P-I MUSIC CRITIC

Saturday, April 12, 1997

The archived online article can be found HERE

Varying accounts put the number of surviving Stradivarius violins at between 540 and 700, out of the original 1,116. One, the Lady Blunt (string instruments pick up the names of their famous owners), was valued at $1 million in 1985, and last spring a Strad built in 1708 sold at auction at Sotheby's for $807,000.

The cello in Rafael Carrabba's shop is no ordinary Strad, though. Its front plate (also called the table) had an accident some time in the years immediately following its construction in 1732.

Typical for that time, instead of repairing the damage the repairman stripped off the front plate and created a whole new piece. Usually, this would significantly diminish the quality of the instrument. But the craftsman happened to be Joannes Baptista Guadagnini, himself one of the great Italian violin makers of the 18th century.

Though Guadagnini was very familiar with the Stradivari family's work, his own cellos were significantly smaller, and this is the largest known example of his work. Also interesting is the shape of the f-holes. They are unmistakably Stradivari in shape and indicate Guadagnini was attempting to duplicate his colleague's work.

Several repairs needed to be made, and two workers in Carrabba's shop - Greg Oxreider and Thomas Immel - participated in the work under Carrabba's direction.

On the underside of the table around the edges where the ribs join, the wood had been gouged and pitted as the top was opened for repairs over the years. The craters were filled with new wood so the fit would be tight when closed again.

In the plate near the interior sound post, a foot-long crack had opened up in the belly. Normally, such cracks would be cleaned, glued and secured with tiny wood patches called studs. But because of its proximity to the stress area of the sound post (the "heart of the instrument"), extra reinforcement was needed.

After fine caliper measurements of the wood thickness were taken, a dam was built around the repair site and a clear film put over the instrument. A special plaster of Paris was applied to make a mold of the shape of the top.

After the cast was made, the wood behind the crack was planed out and a new patch cut to fit. Selecting wood of exactly the right type and lining up the grains of wood between the patch and the instrument takes hours of painstaking fitting to keep the shape of the instrument correct.

To give the instrument even more strength, seven wood acoustical straps of about 15 centimeters width were added on the underside of the table.

Finally, the area on the outside face of the table around the crack had to be revarnished. This is the most time-consuming process of all. An earlier restoration was done poorly, and a thick varnish and glue had been applied to the crack. The original varnish is soft, while the more recent is hard. The challenge: to break through and remove the hard layer while preserving the older, softer original.

Carrabba mixes his own varnishes from recipes handed down by generations of violin craftsmen. Varnish for retouching must be durable yet fast-drying.

Though the colors of the old and new must be blended and matched quickly, he carefully applied the liquid, working slowly to blend the area of repair with the original.

While the sound of the cello was distinctive and rich before the repair, Carrabba predicts dramatic improvement after.

"The responsibility of all this is also part of the thrill," says Carrabba. "Unlocking the secrets of genius is the most rewarding job in the world."

By Douglas McLennan P-I Music Critic

TUESDAY, December 13, 1988

The online archived article can be found HERE