By WENDY WEISMAN

The scroll of the "Avery Fisher" violin by Antonio Stardivari (1692), donated by Fisher. (Photo by Tucker Densley)

The first time a Stradivarius violin is placed in the hands of a young Juilliard musician, it doesn't seem like a match made in heaven. "You can't go at it randomly and expect liquid gold to come out," recalls recent alumnus William Harvey (M.M. '06, violin). These instruments respond in ways vastly different from what students are used to; however, after several weeks of readjusting, the experience, according to Harvey, is "like you're propped on top of Olympus, or dating a movie star."

For countless young musicians, Juilliard's historic stringed instrument collection provides a first opportunity to play instruments created by Cremonese masters Antonio Stradivari, Giuseppe Guarneri Del Gesù, and other luthiers whose craftsmanship is still deemed superior after hundreds of years. As students gradually learn to draw the optimal tone out of the instruments, built during a golden age of violin making, they "fall in love with the new sound," notes the collection's curator, Eric Grossman. Faced with an important competition or a Lincoln Center debut, a student can borrow one of the 200-plus instruments in the collection, acquired through the great generosity of donors such as Avery Fisher and Walter Damrosch.

Each instrument carries with it a history that spans centuries, passing through the hands of craftsmen, dealers, musicians, aristocrats, and many others on its trajectory from Northern Italy to West 66th Street. Now, for the first time, musicians, historians, appraisers, and music lovers have a chance to glimpse some of the collection's most valuable instruments. This past summer, Juilliard celebrated the publication of A Living Legacy: Historic Stringed Instruments at The Juilliard School. This hardcover, full-color volume, underwritten by Juilliard trustee Lester S. Morse Jr. and his wife Enid, is the culmination of three years' worth of research by music scholar and Juilliard staff member Lisa B. Robinson.

The task of hunting down the provenance of these instruments required some Herculean sleuthing. Some of the collection's most prized violins and cellos arrived at Juilliard with the instrumental equivalent of a birth certificate. These "certificates of authenticity" convey a dealer's assessment of the instrument's maker, its date of origin, as well as the previous owners. Ideally, these documents are passed on each time the instrument is sold.

Robinson quickly learned, however, that the real world is not always so orderly. In order to obtain the instruments' pedigrees, she sought out expert appraisers, such as Chicago's Bein & Fushi, to access unpublished diaries of the Hills, England's most famous family of dealers. For one Guarneri Del Gesù violin, the Mayseder Guarnerius, she relied upon a letter tracing the violin's ownership back to Joseph Mayseder, a member of Vienna's famed Schuppanzigh Quartet in the 1800s. (Itzhak Perlman borrowed the Mayseder for his 1964 star turn at the Levintritt Competition.)

The letters and certificates Robinson waded through illuminated the colorful itineraries of the instruments as they changed hands over centuries. Her favorite narrative belongs to the Grimson Guarneri, whose Russian owner, once imprisoned by the Bolsheviks, fled with the violin to South America before it made its way back to London and, eventually, to New York.

The cover of A Living Legacy: Historic Stringed Instruments at The Juilliard School (Amadeus Press), designed by Donald Giordano. (Photo by Tucker Densley)

In an era when instrument donations are undergoing greater scrutiny due to tax assessment, Robinson noted how an instrument's provenance—and therefore, its value—becomes fluid when appraisers come to diverging conclusions. When she learned of one violin that had been attributed to Del Gesù's father by one contemporary appraiser, and then reattributed to Del Gesù the son by another, she gleaned two ideas that would influence her research on Juilliard's collection: "One: the great elasticity in appraising instruments; and two: the importance of documentation!"

The lack of documentation from the time of the instruments' origins may also explain why the sound quality of these instruments has yet to be replicated. As Grossman points out, when Stradivari and Del Gesù were practicing their trade, the

art of violin making was an oral tradition. Says Robinson, "People are still trying to produce violins that have the same quality of sound and no one's figured out what it was. The wood? The varnish?" Grossman notes that an earlier ice age may have slowed down the growth of Italian spruce trees, temporarily resulting in a finer grain of wood. Despite the best efforts of both physicists and contemporary luthiers, isolating any singular variable that makes one violin's sound superior to another's remains an unfulfilled quest.

This has made the preservation of the collection a high priority for Grossman, who takes great care to ensure that instruments that have survived passage for 300 years will continue to serve future generations. Grossman helps students find the right instrument for their needs, in addition to educating them on how best to care for their charges. The visual appearance of an instrument is also a hallmark of its pedigree and a single crack on the back can devalue a violin by more than 30 percent. In his 20 years as curator, Grossman, himself a Juilliard alumnus and violinist (he earned a certificate in violin in 1989), resolves that a conservative approach is the key to good restoration. For instance, regraduation (that is, changing the thickness of the instrument) is now considered to be tampering.

Exercising such caution preserves not only appearances, but also the sound of these instruments, known for their responsiveness to a player's touch. Robinson learned that the musicians "don't need to work as hard to get a beautiful sound." When Harvey, the winner of the 2006 Juilliard violin concerto competition, borrowed a Stradivarius under the auspices of the instrumental loan program, he discovered that the older instrument could resonate too efficiently on some notes, resulting in unwelcome overtones. Harvey, who learned to adjust his technique prior to his performance as a soloist with the Juilliard Orchestra, looks back on his time with the Stradivarius as a "stunning experience. When you start to get comfortable, the transformation is a joy," and parting ways with the borrowed instrument can be summed up, he wryly observes, as "Hello, cruel world."

Author Lisa B. Robinson and instrument curator Eric Grossman examine the Mayseder Guarnerius, on of the historical instruments in Juilliard's collection. (Photo by Wendy Weisman)

The conclusion of the loan period may not be so cruel for everyone, as the instrument will no doubt bring great joy to the next musician in need. As Avery Fisher's son Charles Fisher points out, many Juilliard string students normally use instruments that do not match the high caliber of the musicians playing them. According to him, Avery Fisher donated his 1692 Stradivarius not only out of allegiance to Lincoln Center but because of Juilliard's dedication to lending its instruments, accelerating the careers of young musicians. He remarks, "These instruments are meant to be played, not hung on the walls of private collections."

With the publication of A Living Legacy, readers who have never had a chance to view such rarified specimens are now able to explore some of the most venerated and significant instruments in the collection for themselves.

Wendy Weisman is a research associate in the Office of Development and Public Affairs.