Music Maker
Patricia leaned forward, her eyes following the curve of the instrument. The grooves she had etched were almost imperceptible, but their presence would deepen and enrich the music.
She slid her hand along the delicately carved bone frame, which she had given a wax finish. She would need to care for it, reapplying this regularly to keep the material in good condition as the years passed. Quite poetic, she thought.
She loved this part. Surveying her masterpiece made the hours of pain and backbreaking work fade into a distant memory.
Music had always been a part of her life. She’d been forced to endure piano lessons as a child, but although she so loved making the sounds, she had little patience for the hours of practice. Nevertheless, the time spent had played a pivotal role in shaping her as a person. Even her basic understanding of musical form had trained her ear in ways she didn’t fully understand. It allowed her to hear the melodies hidden within the sounds of everyday life.
She’d spent a lot of time perfecting her craft. Studied the materials used in the finest violins and pianos. All the while searching to make a sound she would be happy with — the perfect instrument. Through her research, she had discovered a great deal about the density of wood and its profound effects on resonance. She was also intrigued to learn about whalebone’s moisture-resistant qualities and superior sound.
She recalled walking through the Czech Museum of Music, where she had first realised what could really be. It held the most incredible collection of unique instruments — so many odd shapes and unexpected materials. It was like stepping into a secret world far beyond that of the piano. And although they didn’t make a sound, her soul sang with music that lifted her. As an adult her life had been directionless, the notes muted beneath indecision and a fear of the unknown. But here she had felt again that sense of wonder — an awakened melody she knew she wanted to be a part of.
She spent the rest of her holiday seeking out every library and poring over texts on instrument building. She was determined to discover all she could to create new and beautiful objects and reveal their sounds to the world.
But, as it often goes, the dreariness of the day-to-day eventually took its hold. Her cubicle walls drowned out what could have been a rising crescendo and replaced it with the droning sound of printers and office banter. As the months passed by, her world became monotone. The once endless possibilities now occupied a cramped space far in the back of her mind. They may as well have not been there at all.
It was two more years before she was able to finally listen again. She’d gone for a walk on her lunch break to a nearby park. A group of school children were running around, their collective voices discordant and grating. Beneath the chaos, she could hear a familiar tune — a singsong rhyme from her childhood that increases tempo until no one can keep up. As they burst into a fit of giggling at the end of the game, their elation at making such simple music was almost painful to hear.
And then it suddenly all made sense.
Sitting here now with her latest creation, caressing the strings with their hide and hair bow, she thought about her life and the music that had inspired her. Something had been reawakened in her all those years ago in the museum. But in the end it was the children, with their innocent melodies, that had given the inspiration she’d needed.
Hearing the muffled screams coming from the other room, she played the notes louder.
It’s true that young bones have a sound like no other.
Barbara Skeggs is a writer based in Sydney, Australia. She lives with her partner and two demanding cats.
Originally published at https://ilikethequiet.com on April 21, 2021.
