Chapter XIX: Two Styles of Tone Production

The player of the violin is an artist in tone no less than his confrère of the brush is an artist in colour, and each has his methods of conveying the impressions which he desires to produce. He of the brush may paint an exquisite picture, fine of line and detail; delicate in colouring, as in a miniature, a picture capable of bearing the closest scrutiny. Again he may pile the pigment upon his canvas as with a trowel, and those who view such work at close quarters will marvel how so much seeming roughness, lack of detail and carelessness can mean anything. But when this picture is viewed at a little distance, order comes forth from chaos; there is unfolded a landscape of surpassing loveliness.

It is the same with the artist in tone. The violinist, for instance, may produce his tone-picture as the painter does the miniature, by the most painstaking attention to every detail of shading and expression, giving to each individual note his idea of colouring. The effect of such a tone-picture is, like the miniature, best appreciated at close quarters, and, like most delicate things, is easily marred, the dividing line between the tender and the “finniky” being very narrow. It takes an artist of rare talent and sound ideals to achieve the one and avoid the other. There are more failures than successes in this style, and it is perhaps for this reason that the majority of players affect what may be called the robust style--and seldom get further than the robust; producing a great deal of sound and very little music. It takes much experience, and judgment of a high order, to weave a coarse fabric of tone which, at a distance, develops the infinite possibilities of the graceful and beautiful in music. The player of the violin is always handicapped by inability to get away from his tone. He cannot, so to speak, hear himself. In the delicate style he may, indeed, have some excuse for thinking he is able to do so, but in the robust style he has none. He cannot, like the painter, step back a few paces and criticise his work. He must possess the ability to _know_ how this bold and vigorous treatment of tone will sound at, say twenty paces, the while he produces it at arm’s length--indeed, at a distance measured by inches! A difficult thing it is to acquire, but worthy of every effort towards attainment, and every earnest student of the violin should make the attempt. It is the only means by which, like the plastic style in painting, effects of the noblest and most impressive character are attained.