Violin Bridge

A highly decorative carved wooden bridge sits at the heart of a baroque violin in a delicate balancing act, both holding and being held up by the tension of the strings. In short, the bridge is the reason a violin  makes any sound at all! The bridge was a defining feature of bowed string instruments, as opposed to the plucked lutes and early guitars of the same family. It allowed notes to be sustained, producing one of the most desired sounds of the early modern period, that which most closely resembled the human voice. Between lyricism and virtuosity, the bridge linked the violin with the human and allowed for new flights of musical fancy beyond those possible for a human voice.

Music making during the early modern period was valued for its spontaneity, newness, and novelty. Pieces were created and performed for a specific occasion in honour of named patrons and were often composed quickly. They had to be entertaining and immediately accessible as they were often only heard once and yet also exciting and stimulating enough to be admired by the listeners to result in more commissions. They were expected to be rooted in tradition but to offer something unexpected and individual. Usually accompanying social activities such as dancing, feasting, drinking, and worshipping, much of this music was improvised — the performer's art of spontaneously, instantaneously creating or embellishing music in the moment. Performers could therefore use their skills to constantly evaluate and alter their music, tailoring it to bridge contrasting expectations and circumstances.

Imagination and Physicality

Improvised preludes were often used before performing a piece to allow the performer to warm up, tune their instrument, and get the audience’s attention. Performers had the chance to showcase their imagination while refamiliarising themselves with the feel of their instruments, feeling their way towards a piece both musically and physically. Often, the choices made in improvisation are the result of comfortable physical interactions with the instrument. For instance, a violinist is usually more likely to choose notes which are close in pitch to those played before as these are easier to play. Likewise, sequences (repeated phrases at different pitches) which fit comfortably into a handshape are much easier to reproduce correctly when transposed to different pitches. Given the lack of time in improvisation, these “tricks of the trade” enable impressive fluency and variety.

To improvise dance music, usually performed by violinists, musicians in the early modern period had to have a thorough understanding of dance steps to know which speeds would be appropriate but also which rhythms would encourage the most characterful dancing. The fantasia was the ultimate test of an early modern improviser’s skill as it contained the fewest musical restrictions, encouraging a mixture of styles and imaginative freedom within the bounds of technical and physical capabilities. If a particular idea did not come off in a practice improvisation, improvisers would take the time to work out how to achieve this or to explore alternative options. This way, muscle memories were developed and the imaginative and technical repertoire of the improviser expanded. Not just imagination, but the physical possibilities of a performer and the technical limits of an instrument, therefore, define the possibilities of improvisation. This is still the case for improvisers today, whether improvising in a historical or modern style.

Several types of improvisation relied on pre-existing musical material, exemplified by the divisions in Christopher Simpson’s Division Viol (1659). This publication contains written-out examples of the popular tradition of improvised variations on a famous (usually dance) tune. In addition, fantasias could even be inspired by non-musical events or things. For example, John Mundy’s (1555-1630) fantasias are titled ‘faire wether’, ‘lightning’, ‘thunder’, ‘calme wether’ and ‘a cleare day’, amongst others. Similarly, William Lawes’ fantasia in C minor from ca. 1640 is based on his Psalm setting ‘I am weary of my groaning’, rather topical for a court on the brink of the English Civil War. Performing historical improvisations today by necessity also bridges the old and new.

People and Places

Improvisation was prevalent across all kinds of early modern music making, as well as boundaries of status and gender. Of the few professional female instrumentalists, it is particularly interesting to read Évrard Tillet’s description of keyboardist Élisabeth Jacquet de la Guerre and her ‘marvellous talent for improvising preludes and fantasies’ (1732). Female improvisation can also be found in other arts such as dance (from small ornamental hand or foot flourishes on notated choreography to larger-scale improvised dances called caprices) and, in particular, commedia dell’arte (or improvised theatre). The individualistic nature of improvisation, and particularly the freedom offered by the fantasia genre, meant that performers were free to express different national styles within their improvisations, combining traditions which would otherwise have been considered in bad taste. The prominence of travelling violinists touring around Europe further encouraged this cross-over (see, for example, the fantasias of Nicola Matteis and Georg Philipp Telemann). Improvisation also played a fundamental role in church services, so much so that organists had to improvise to get the job. Improvisation took place in the alehouses and the courts, the church and the salon, on stage and in private gatherings, outdoors and indoors; in short, it was the only constant you could expect across all kinds of European music making during the early modern period.

Philosophies and Practicalities

Given its fleeting, unrecorded nature, how can we actually access the sounds and experiences of improvisation in the early modern period? Sadly, without a working time machine, we have to make do with notated musical examples and treatise explanations. However, while these sources can tell us an awful lot about artistic practices and cultural values, the final printed product was often subject to changes and revisions, and often very different to what was originally imagined. Practice-led research into the act of improvisation, then, can provide us with a way into the space in-between imagination and product. The almost instantaneous nature of improvisation means that the pathway between imagination and product is at its smallest here. The performer has a split second to think of what to play next and to set the necessary physical responses in motion. In musical improvisation, an idea often is the sound - e.g., we hear an idea in our imagination as a musical ‘thing’ (try for example to hear happy birthday without making any sound, you can still sing it in your head). But an improvised idea might also be connected to a physical movement: ‘why don’t I play a second finger on the E string?’ for instance. The thinking time required for all these thoughts and actions (miniature as it is) is used by the improviser to work out which sound to play next or which movement to make, providing us with a direct link between imagination and product. Therefore, by improvising in an historically informed way today through practice-led research, we come the closest to the early modern imagination and to hearing their improvised creations.

The following video demonstrates some of the different kinds of bridging baroque improvisation mentioned in this post (a prelude, dance, fantasia and divisions).

In the early modern period, the act of improvising on the violin bridged imagination and physicalities, people and places, and philosophies and practicalities. Improvisation allows us insight today into human interaction with the violin at its most unfiltered — full of interconnections, intersections, and interactions, acting as a bridge between knowledge and experiences. Encouraging more people to listen to and to play historically informed improvisations can provide new perspectives on the vital connections and ‘in-between’ spaces bridged by musicians in the early modern period.

Nina Kümin is a PhD Candidate in the Department of Music at the University of York.

For more recordings, musings and upcoming concerts with historical improvisation see:

Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/NinaKuminViolinist)
YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCZ8vOtUj0ZCdF5ssRJOGnog)
SoundCloud (https://soundcloud.com/nina-kumin-improviser)
Twitter (@NinaKumin)
Email (nina.kumin@york.ac.uk)

Selected Bibliography.

Tillet, Évrard Titon du. Le Parnasse François (Paris: Coignard, 1732).

3 August 2022.

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