Now that the flute is complete with cork and holes, I have now started the finer adjustments.  This part of the work is actually the biggest reason I began taking the class anyway -  I want to understand what happens when you undercut holes, make holes bigger or smaller, plug one corner, and all of these mysterious small things that end up making huge changes to the instrument.  Before I got started, Paul explained a few basics, which I plan to discover throughout the process, but which I’d just like to type up here, in case anyone else has ever wondered these things, or has anything to add.

Finger holes

The bigger you make the finger holes, the higher the note that corresponds with that hole becomes.  On a Renaissance flute there are 6 finger holes, and we number them so: Left Hand 1 2 3, Right Hand 4 5 6.

Left Hand 1 2 3, Right Hand 4 5 6

If I have all fingers down, this creates the basis note – D (or, since my instrument is a transposing instrument, I should call it G.  I finger a D, but the sound is G.  However, coming from years of non-transposing flutes, for my own understanding at the moment I’m referring to this basic note as D.  My fingers say it is a D no matter what my ears are saying.  I have been encouraged to make an effort to call it by what my ears say.)  Therefore, if I want to make the D a little higher, I must make hole 6 a little bigger.  You can see that I took this photo after making 6 a little bigger, which I did by turning round and round a very small metal cylinder wrapped in sandpaper.  Much to the distress of the skin on my right hand, I might add, particularly my pointer finger.     It was only slightly easier with the longer drill bit there.

Here are the brilliant round files I was discouraged from using – something about using up the tips then having wasted an entire file the whole class needs on my 2 flute holes.  Oh well, it saved my fingers for about 10 minutes before anyone noticed what I was doing. 

Now, by making hole 6 a little bigger in order to raise the pitch on D, that has also magically raised the pitch of hole 5 a little bit.  So, my E (which corresponds to hole 5) was automatically a little bit higher.  I hear, therefore, that a wise builder starts the tuning process with the lowest hole, then working up.

Paul has suggested that I tune the flute first by purely changing hole sizes, which I’m noticing gives me a variety of diameters.  While this might be accurate, I do suspect that flute makers out there have all sorts of beautiful undercutting tricks to create holes of varying diameters, yet with visually the same size.  In any case, this is what I’m doing now, as Paul assures me that I will be able to get the first register nicely tuned just by hole size, and I can use undercutting for the next register.  I’m afraid I cannot explain why at the moment, because I’m still working on that part, spending two weeks sanding away millimeters off both the holes and my fingers. But I think that next week I’ll have a better understanding.

I’ll end with this happy little photo of my tenor and the mini-me.

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My flute has holes!  And, as a friend said, “Wow, look, it has bling!”

Rewind a couple of hours: Today was a very fun class for me.  Drilling the holes on the milling machine was actually very easy, and it is somehow very fulfilling to complete that part that, in fact, makes this wooden cylinder a flute, both visually and functionally.  I first had to mark the embouchure and finger holes on the wood with a pencil – I had found the distances by reducing those of my tenor flute by 25%. Then off to the milling machine I went, where Paul showed me how to set it up and secure the wood onto the base. Here is the cylinder clamped onto the milling machine. If you look closely, you can see a small pencil mark where the holes will be.

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So then, the drill bit is spinning around, and you slowly lower it with the lever, and it very easily just drills into the wood.

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Here's the completed flute body.

The headjoint was the same, though we used a little bit bigger drill bit for that one.  Here’s the finished headjoint.  (I apologize that the focus in the photo is actually on the corks in the back.  I’m using my phone camera for this whole journey, mostly because I always have it handy.  But, the shorter cork is the one we chopped a bit off of to use in the headjoint.)

Once I sanded it inside (to remove any little splinters created by drilling), we put the cork in (which Paul measured and shaped while I wasn’t looking), and then the moment of truth…

My flute plays! It is in G, at 415.  Ultimately we want it in G at 440, but that will get worked out in the next couple of weeks.

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Oh, I have been cold and running late all day! It started out fine when I left home, but by the time I got to the Hague to teach, the weather was awful, with terrible wind blowing the rain everywhere!   No need for umbrellas with these torrents!  After teaching, I missed a tram by 30 seconds, which made me miss the train, which made me 30 minutes late for class.  I was disappointed, because I was secretly hoping for an entire 2 hours and 15 minutes at the lathe; on the other hand I did have time to buy some dinner at the train station and warm up a bit on the train.  I wasn’t wearing the proper shoes or coat for the weather, so I needed that extra bit of time, I suppose.   Luckily when I finally got to class, the guy using the lathe I usually work on was ready to move on to something else, and I could begin again with the headjoint.

I turned the headjoint and filed it down to 23mm, and then a little section at the end to 20mm.  This is the part onto which I will glue the small section of metal tube that I filed down last week.  The body of the flute will also need a section filed down to probably less than 20mm, because this tenon will be wrapped with string to fit into the metal tubing.

headjoint with tenon, body with no tenon yet

metal tubing and headjoint

Last week on the walk back to the train station, Paul and I were discussing that since we are making the instrument in 2 parts,  I could actually make another body to go with this headjoint, so that I have 2 descants – one in F and one in G.  I think this might be a fun project, and it will help me review everything I’ve learned so far, and perhaps make the flute more flexible in terms of playing with others.  Depending on the pitch and keys everyone else is playing in, I can choose which instrument will be best.  His next project for me after that is a petite flute, which will be slightly conical inside instead of cylindrical.  He’s such an optimist!!

Perhaps because I was cold and late,  I was distracted, for I made a few dumb mistakes with the machines today.  Nothing too serious or unsafe, but tightening a few screws here and there like I should have would certainly have made for a much less frightening experience than the grinding sound and jumping around that the lathe and my flute-to-be produced when I turned the whole thing on.  Everyone in the entire building can clearly hear when you’ve made that mistake, and Paul zoomed over in the split second it took for me to hit the off button.   It is precisely this sort of mistake that I loathe, and the kind that sometimes makes me afraid to try new things,  even if it is more related to inexperience than anything.  It is surely also related to my general wariness around machines of any kind.  After a little moment to dispel those thoughts, I started again (under the teacher’s watchful eyes), thankful that my bright red face was facing the wall.

It seems that next week I’ll be getting to drill the mouth hole and finger holes, so I suspect that within the next couple weeks, I might have completed my first flute!

all the parts

slightly assembled

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Today will be my second day in my class.  To prepare, I’ve gathered some information online I found about Renaissance flute measurements. I’ll also take along my Tardino tenor Renaissance flute, to practice making and converting measurements.  Since it is my first instrument, we’re not being too picky or historical about things, we’ve decided to make a ¾ size instrument, which we are going to call a descant.   Further, from what I can find online, there is only one extant descant (in Brussels), and some makers doubt its authenticity.

In my searches for measurements, I re-discovered Philippe Allain-Dupré’s great website for Renaissance flutes:
http://allaindu.club.fr/fluterenaissance/index.html

Allain-Dupré is a French maker and performer, and I am extremely grateful for all of the information he puts online.  I’m sure I’ll be visiting his site many times.

I would also recommend these sites for information about Renaissance flutes:
http://www.berneyflutes.com/ (a great FAQ page)
http://www.oldflutes.com/renai.htm (good for general information)

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So!  I returned from a rather easy class.  All I had to do today was measure my Tardino tenor flute, and reduce everything by 1/4.  This ended up being more practical than using measurements already made, plus it gave me experience measuring.

The one question that still perplexes me:  Why, if I reduce every measurement by 1/4, must I NOT reduce the bore and diameter of the flute also?  Paul tells me that it would end up being a much higher pitch, and something about the fundamentals of the notes…but this starts becoming scientific, and it seems my brain turns off easily at the thought of anything related to physics or acoustics.  Maybe I never really understood it well when I was younger.  Maybe these things will be more clear to me as I work.  Maybe I just need to do a little Google research…

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January 17, 2009

I have several friends who have taken up building their own instruments – flutes, clarinets, oboes, cornetti…  They’ve been very passionate in their recommendations of a class they all followed, led by Paul Beekhuizen.  After 2 years of their enthusiastic reports, I’ve finally taken them up on the idea that maybe I might find this interesting as well.  I have no plans to be a flute maker, but I’d like to know more about how it works.  I learn by doing, and no matter how many flute builders have described the process to me, it just never sticks.

Today was my first day in an instrument-building class.  Everyone has a different project – we range from the descant Renaissance flute-maker (me) to a double-bass maker (a very dedicated person!)  I figure making a simple stick with holes is a pretty good way to start out, especially since I’ve never done anything involving a workshop with tools (other than sweeping up sawdust in my dad’s shop – does this count?)  I had a little tour of the instruments, with requisite basic instructions and safety warnings, and then we got right down to work.

Paul helped me pick out a nice piece of American maple from the stock to begin my flute.  This piece of wood was long and rectangular, and my first job was to find the middle of each endpoint, mark it with a tiny hole, and set it in the lathe.  We turned the lathe on, and as the wood spun around, I used a gouge to scrape away the edges until it was completely round.

Here’s the lathe I’m working on.  You can also see the variety of gouges hanging there in a nice, orderly Dutch line.

Clean-up involved a whole mess of sawdust and a noisy vacuum cleaner, but I didn’t think of using it on my clothes until I got home and sat on the couch, thus spreading of little bits of maple wood joy beyond the workshop…

That was the end of Day 1.  I made a rectangle into a cylinder, and I’m so proud.

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