My name is Helentherese Good, and I’m a violinist for the Camerata of St John’s. I’ve been lucky enough to own this beautiful violin for 18 years now and it has shaped and formed the musician I’ve become.

In the course of my work with Camerata, I regularly take this violin on tour with me so that school groups, residents of nursing homes and other regional communities get the rare opportunity to listen to the unique sound of an instrument that is 275 years old.

An old violin is not just an antique, nor is it simply a work of art to witness.

It is alive in an organic way, ever changing and growing in depth and richness, as long as it is being played.  Learn about the living legacy linking our historical musical heritage to the present day and on towards our children and their descendants.

Explore this site to learn about this very special instrument; who plays it and who hears it.  Read on the regularly updated blog about the incredible work being done to restore the violin to a state of robust health, and then be inspired to come and hear it live. Welcome, and enjoy.

Paolo Antonio Testore was born in 1700, the second son of a very famous maker Carlo Giuseppe. Unfortunately his father died prematurely so Paolo didn’t quite finish his apprenticeship, and had to rely on his older brother for further training. As a result he didn’t get to do the glamorous jobs and this instrument was probably originally intended for use in the field by a soldier, or to be played in the local tavern. It doesn’t have much fancy embellishment! However it is still a very beautiful violin.

It was made in Milan in 1739, and we don’t know much about its early life. However, the instrument did make its way to North America by the beginning of the twentieth century: in all likelihood it was a treasured possession in the large scale immigrations that took place from Italy between 1890 and 1920. By the mid-1950s, the violin was in Boston, being played by the concertmaster of the Boston Philharmonic Orchestra.

As a chamber music student of the newly-established Australian National Academy of Music back in 1996, I was encouraged by my tutors to begin searching for a suitable instrument to support me through a performing career. Sometimes finding the right ‘match’ can take years, but I was lucky enough to stumble across this little lady on my third day of looking at instruments in Melbourne. (And she is literally small- although the instrument has a full size string length, the measurements of the body are about 7/8 of normal size.) It was being prepared for sale through a dealer; I played for 5 minutes in his showroom and fell in love with a sound that was like melted chocolate. Then it was time to fly home, sell my car, re-mortgage the house and convince my husband we needed a third figure in our marriage. Luckily, he was very understanding, and since then the Testore has thrilled me every day.

Why a restoration now, after all this time?

Yes, anything 275 years old is going to need some serious maintenance. Actually, an instrument like this one goes in for a “grease and oil change” every year, usually in autumn when the weather changes. As the temperature and humidity drop, the wood contracts, the joints open and the violin starts buzzing or making strange noises called ‘wolf’ notes. That makes playing very dreary, so it’s off to the local luthier, who will clamp the violin and refresh the glue (all organic hide glue) and after a couple of days in the workshop, the old lady will be good to go again.

However last year, the prognosis was not so simple. Peering in with his dentist’s mirror and probing tool, the luthier shook his head. There was a serious problem. The tonal problems I was experiencing on the E string were quite possibly caused by a soundpost patch that was flaking off. You can see this quite easily in the picture at the top of this page. See the oval shaped piece of wood beside the lower f hole? That is covering a crack in the top plate where the sound post normally sits between the front and back of the instrument. See how the edges of the patch are quite clearly delineated? This indicates that the glue is loose and that the patch is pulling away from the top plate.

Now, while repairers are very clever and deft with their tools (just like dentists), there are some jobs that just cant be done with keyhole surgery through those tiny f-holes. A soundpost patch repair requires the whole top of the violin to be removed. And while the top is coming off, it would be wise to repair all the damaged cleats (those tiny bridges of wood that stand over a crack and hold it together), and clean out the centuries of grime, and replace the weakened and damaged parts of the body. This is MAJOR open-heart surgery, requiring very delicate skill and lots of time, months in fact. But who would have the experience and availability to take on a job like this? Luckily, my luthier in Brisbane could recommend a restorer – albeit in England – who would be suitable. Contact was made and, fortunately for me, the restorer was interested and had space in her schedule. It was with a tear in my eye that I waved off my “baby”, travelling as hand luggage with a conference delegate on their way to Cambridge. In the safest custody possible, there would be a meeting of strangers to ensure the little old lady journeyed successfully to the other side of the world.

Next time: stay tuned to see the first pictures as the violin is pulled apart into many pieces. *Not as gory as a real dissection, but still startling.