When talking about the violin, one usually focuses on the instrument itself, and the bow doesn’t get much attention. The bow is that “stick” that draws and scrubs across the violin.
I often get asked about the bow, if that thing which looks like a simple wooden stick, really makes any difference. It’s understandable because there is not so much difference in its appearance.
If Stradivarius is the king or queen of the instrument, then, there is also the wonderful classical bow called Tourte. Tourte is the name of a French bow maker, François Tourte, who lived around 200 to 300 years ago. The reason for a bow made that long ago has become so valuable as an instrument is, that it is so difficult now, to make a bow of the same standard.
One might think, generally speaking, that if you have a Stradivarius, then any bow would do to produce the sound. But actually, the bow is the magic wand that allows to express the delicate expressions freely.
I realised this when I was about 15 years old, when my teacher, the master of the violin, Mr. Toshiya Eto told me: “As your instrument is not such a remarkable one, it will be difficult for you to achieve further variations of tone colour. Use this bow as I would like you to investigate the different variations of timbre that I require.”
Then he slowly drew a bow from an instrument case, of which the “wooden stick” itself glossily shined. The bow was a lot slimmer than my own one, and it had a pronounced curve.
The bow was really thin in the centre which seemed very breakable and it curved sharply while the tip was a lot thinner, which kind of scared me. When my teacher handed me the delicate bow, my hands trembled. I remember getting tense, trying not to drop it by mistake which would be disastrous.
Bows are really fragile and breakable. I had heard that especially the thinner tip could snap with any slightest impact that could occur from something like the vibration on an airplane or a car, when the wavelength matched. Once it breaks, it would never produce the original tone even if it is neatly joined back together.
When I took that fragile bow in my hand, being only a junior high school student at the time, I couldn’t feel any surprises by playing my nameless instrument with it.
The slight vibrations transmitted through the bow to my right hand was something that I had never experienced before. I even felt the tremor that was transferred to the gut strings (made from sheep’s intestines) across the instrument, the friction made by the bow hair note by note.
That sensation travelled to each finger of my right hand, and that was when I finally understood what my teacher was asking for. He was saying: “Be conscious of your right ring finger to give more richness in tone!” or “Adjust the pressure of your right index finger here, to change the tone.”
Until then, I hadn’t understood the meaning at all, and though I studied every day, I couldn’t get Mr. Eto’s approval.
“Ah, that’s what he meant!”
When I finally started understanding the sensation, I felt so excited.
It was like opening up a new door of hope, and I became totally absorbed in playing, consciously thinking and enjoying each of the roles of my right-hand fingers.
So now, after nearly fifty years, I possess four or five bows.
Each has its own character and they have become wonderful companions to draw out the diverse tonal expressions of the Stradivarius Duranty.
I change bows according to the concert hall.
The compatibility with the hall’s acoustics is crucial.
I bring several bows and try them out, and even in a familiar hall I play in annually, the best matching bow changes with the season.
It is not just the instrument that changes with temperature and humidity, but the bows do too. If the instrument’s condition changes subtly, the suitable bow naturally changes.
Furthermore, the horse tail (white horses) strung on the bow is also very important. Horse tail comes from horses that are specially bred for bow hair. Mongolian horses are the mainstream source now, but others come from Italy, Canada, France……and the sound differs
depending on the horse, the tail, and its cuticles. But it’s not just a case of “absolutely this horse”, because it differs in seasons and it’s more like “this time, an Italian horse seems best”
or “I should get help from a Mongolian horse tail this season.” It’s such a complicating combination!
That is why it’s so interesting and enjoyable, and yet so profoundly deep, and there is so much delight in playing and researching endlessly.
So, which horse’s tail should I borrow next?