A Proposed Reformatted Schelleng Diagram

In recent days on the String Visions site, Dr. Cheri Collins has made the case that an understanding of Helmholtz motion and the conditions under which it is induced in the strings of a bowed stringed instrument can help violin, viola, cello and string bass students more easily understand how to achieve better tone. In particular, Dr. Collins has made the point that the Schelleng Diagram is an image that clarifies the bow pressure/point-of-contact relationship, showing maximum and minimum pressure limits, and areas which correspond to tonal qualities - such as normal, sul tasto, brilliant, raucous...

To aid in the discussion, Dr. Collins identifies five equidistant string Contact Points on the instrument - from very near the bridge to the end of the fingerboard. Identification of these contact points help teacher-student communication and assist the student in understanding which points on a string are associated with particular tonal qualities and the max/min limits of speed and pressure.

On a related "note", Dr. Collins has also discussed the Simon Fischer Secrets of Tone Production DVD (Which I have, by the way, and have gone through the exercises with my own teacher). Yes, between the diagram and the exercises, one certainly gets a better feel of how to control what happens between the bow hair and the string! My feeling is, for the price of a single in-person lesson, one has hours of DVD material to work with, take to the teacher, discuss, periodically review, and continuously incorporate into one's daily playing.

But now back to the Schelleng diagram. Below is an example as normally presented:


The Schelleng diagram has some intriguing characteristics for the well-trained acoustic scientist. But as a lowly cello student and non-scientist (but a former good high school math student 40+ years ago), I have some suggested changes to the Schelleng Diagram for helping to provide an intuitive understanding of the pressure/point-of-contact relationship.

At a casual glance, one would think the horizontal axis represents linear distance on the violin string, but that is not actually the case.

If I look at the numbers on the horizontal axis, I see tick marks at .7, 1.4, 2.8, 4.2, 7, and 14 centimeters (cm). Each mark is basically twice the distance from the bridge of the previous mark. That tells me the horizontal axis is on a logarithmic scale (base 2, in this case). On a violin, the 2.8 cm mark is ok, it corresponds to somewhere between Contact Point 2 and 3, but 7 cm mark is well over the fingerboard (the fingerboard ends at 5.5) and the 14 cm mark is near the mid-point of an open string. Scientifically this is interesting, but no musician reasonably bows a violin string near the mid-point.

Also at a casual glance, one would also think the vertical axis is a straight-forward linear representation of bow force. Actually, each mark is 10 times more forceful than the mark below it: .001, .01, .1 and 1. So that scale is also logarithmic (base 10, in this case). The bow force on the line at the top of the chart is greater than the line at the bottom by 1000 times!

So what I did was re-create the Schelleng diagram in an Excel workbook by plugging in some sample X-Y values and mapping them on a chart until I had something that approximate matched the original diagram:

Since I don't have raw data values, and the original diagram itself is an approximation, we should realize that this re-creation is only approximate. Also, in real life, with real instruments, and real bows, and real strings, and real rosin, and real players, these values can vary some.

Keeping the internal data the same, I took the chart and changed the vertical axis from log 10 to linear, and the horizontal axis from log 2 to linear. I then drew in vertical lines to represent the locations of the five Contact Points. And lastly, I reversed the axes with the idea it might be intuitively clearer to a violin or viola player if the contact points go from left to right, just as they do when holding an instrument:
I think this diagram provides a more intuitively clear picture of the pressure/point-of-contact relationship, as it actually feels. We can also see from this diagram that at Contact Point 2 we have the most widest range between maximum and minimum bow force. As we bow closer to the bridge, we must greatly increase pressure and become very precise in the placement of our contact point - very little room for error. Whereas we can see the difference in the max/min pressure between Contact Points 4 and 5 is really quite small.

So the question is, does this revised diagram correspond to your own sensations and feelings, or might you suggest even other changes?

Brea street fair

Last night I played with two others in a street fair, of sorts, called Musician's Playground, in Brea, CA. The main attraction was the O.C. Wind Symphony, but for some reason our little trio got two out of nine pictures in the online local newspaper article: http://www.ocregister.com/news/night-259610-brea-free.html

Because of an intrusive canopy pole, the newspaper photographer opted to photograph us separately, but we were a trio playing together (at least trying to stay together despite the street noise and distractions):





I don't know if you can tell, but the hammer dulcimer player has very severe arthritis. He copes amazingly well. Where there's a will... What a guy! Good for him!

So now a still shot of my form is out in the open. I remember when that shot was taken. I was trying to blast out on that low D. I know, I know, Emily would say there's too much left hand pronation. I'm bad, I'm still resisting. I wonder if my bow hold passes the Emily test. Emily, are you out there?

Classical from before there was "Classical"

Last weekend I was at a dance weekend in a lodge on Mt. Baldy. I had cause to pause and reflect on why in the world am I playing cello, and what am I trying to accomplish, and while I’m at it, what is it I appreciate about music, and admire about musicians, anyway?

Naturally, we had a live band, in this case - Bandáge à Trois, from Utah. I figure, from Friday evening to Sunday evening, they were on for at least 15 hours. When they were on, they played about 85% of the time. The remaining 15% was time when the “caller” (in olden days would be called the Dancing Master) was teaching the dance. While I was not present for all 15 hours, I was for most of it, and I never heard a tune repeated for more than one dance, and many of those tunes were quite distinctive; I would have recognized them. Tunes from all over Europe, in this case, French and Scandinavian tunes were particularly well-represented. Bourrees, branles, waltzes, jigs, reels, polkas, hambos,…. And for each tune within the dance, there was plenty of variation across repeats. A grueling test of endurance. I’m so impressed at their preparation, stamina, teamwork between musicians, teamwork with the caller, excellent tune choices for individual dances, stimulation to the dancers, and musical imagination. I’m still in awe.

That band and caller carries on a special and very challenging tradition that well predates J S Bach. I believe the adjective “classical” is more appropriate to describe what they do, than it is for a present-day so-called classical concert performance of rigidly-defined, fully-papered compositions for immense professional orchestras to silent, motionless audiences. Certainly Louis XIV would have hired this band in a heartbeat.

I wonder how much longer this sort of classical music --- much of it hundred of years old, from many countries, played by a live band, to dancers who actually go through the effort to learn and follow formally-defined steps, with partners, as part of a larger traditional music/dance community --- will survive?

Classical from before there was "Classical"

Last weekend I was at a dance weekend in a lodge on Mt. Baldy. I had cause to pause and reflect on why in the world am I playing cello, and what am I trying to accomplish, and while I’m at it, what is it I appreciate about music, and admire about musicians, anyway?

Naturally, we had a live band, in this case - Bandáge à Trois, from Utah. I figure, from Friday evening to Sunday evening, they were on for at least 15 hours. When they were on, they played about 85% of the time. The remaining 15% was time when the “caller” (in olden days would be called the Dancing Master) was teaching the dance. While I was not present for all 15 hours, I was for most of it, and I never heard a tune repeated for more than one dance, and many of those tunes were quite distinctive; I would have recognized them. Tunes from all over Europe, in this case, French and Scandinavian tunes were particularly well-represented. Bourrees, branles, waltzes, jigs, reels, polkas, hambos,…. And for each tune within the dance, there was plenty of variation across repeats. A grueling test of endurance. I’m so impressed at their preparation, stamina, teamwork between musicians, teamwork with the caller, excellent tune choices for individual dances, stimulation to the dancers, and musical imagination. I’m still in awe.

That band and caller carries on a special and very challenging tradition that well predates J S Bach. I believe the adjective “classical” is more appropriate to describe what they do, than it is for a present-day so-called classical concert performance of rigidly-defined, fully-papered compositions for immense professional orchestras to silent, motionless audiences. Certainly Louis XIV would have hired this band in a heartbeat.

I wonder how much longer this sort of classical music --- much of it hundred of years old, from many countries, played by a live band, to dancers who actually go through the effort to learn and follow formally-defined steps, with partners, as part of a larger traditional music/dance community --- will survive?

Sunrise from orbit, bending Shakers, racing hawks, sailing hockey pucks...

I read that some of us duffers are having trouble getting motivated to practice. I dunno, on the days I can get to it, which are most, but not as many as I want, it's still the best part of the day.

Back in my cellistic infancy and toddlerhood, I had precious little patience for figurative language describing how to play cello. I wanted to hear concrete specifics and bold assertions; exacting descriptions, ideas that could be tested and evaluated, on the essential mechanics of how the amazing system of interconnected levers we call "a cellist" works. No flowery verbal kaa-kaa. No vague "as-if"s or untestable clap-trap. Like Sergeant Joe Friday, "Just the facts, ma'am!"

That was then, this is now. Ok, I guess I've changed.

I've gone to a place where I can enjoy and appreciate inventive takes-offs that stray far from reality. That is not to say I don't appreciate the "factual" and specific information I gather along the way, it's just that my curiosity in that area seems satisfied. I know there's more I can learn, I know some (but certainly not all) cellists would disagree with me on just about anything (Old-timers here certainly have seen that). Of course, I know there could be substantial observable improvement in my form -- elbow moved up (or down), more bow there, less bow here, hand-shape here, open shoulder there... And I certainly need to fit in quantitatively more practice. But rightly or wrongly, I feel comfortable enough in that area that now I want to not just play "correctly", I want to play imaginatively. And at that, I really am just a cellistic infant.

Some of the figurative, or semi-figurative, language I've heard doesn't work for me, yet. Maybe in the future. So being an incorrigible student, I sometimes make up my own stuff.

Mercifully, I'll skip the racey ones. Some of you may have already read my old sunrise-viewed-from-space imagery. I picture the bow stroke as an immensely wide, gradually-arcing, constantly-moving horizon, and the string as the sun (I'm orbiting upside-down, naturally). When the bow touches the sun's line of sight in just the right spot, and they make just the right amount of contact, not too much, not too little, the radiating sun-string shoots brilliant rays of sound in all directions, piercing the black void, and brightly illuminating the entire bow with sound.

Korny and stupid? Yup.

I got more, even kookier, but I already know those. What 'bout yours? Maybe yours are more imaginative.

Anyone doing T'ai Chi + Cello?

Last night was my fourth T'ai Chi class, more specifically, T'ai Chi Chih. Over two years ago I decided to look into it based on things said by Vic Sazer.

The classes are 45 minutes of soft motions, led by an 80-some year-old instructor. For the second time now, starting at about the 25 minute point or so, my arms start to get that feeling of lightness and effortless-ness that I've only rarely managed to feel behind a cello. Like my arms have lost some weight and the joints have had a squirt of graphite applied. I know at least a handful of you know what I mean.

One thing that concerns me is that "T'ai Chi Chih" is a registered trademark. Apparently it was "invented" by Justin F. Stone in the 70's. Hmmm.

As if I don't have way too much to do as it is, I hope to pursue this T'ai Chi thing some more, doing it immediately before some cello practices, IF I can keep my motivation and patience up for it. Has anybody tried it?

CTMS New Year's Camp

Back about 4 weeks ago now, my wife and I again attended the CTMS New Year's Camp out at Camp Hess Kramer. I'm pleased to report that we won 2nd place in the New Years Eve Costume Parade (Rod Blagoyevich and Senator Wannabe), although I feel "Barbie at 60", who placed 3rd, should've won. She was hysterical. We didn't recognize the next day without her wig, heels, knock-knees, "implants", and other paraphernalia.

Thank you to the management of Hess Kramer, who make the facility to many different groups.

No cello classes, but still plenty to do, even for the non-musician, such as dancing, walks to the beach, a class in stretching (which I thought was particularly informative), a puzzle table, and a craft table. Also, various classes in guitar, playing for dances, shape note singing, etc. Also jams and song circles.

Carl, one of the campers, has posted pictures at
http://flickr.com/photos/cbernhardt/sets/72157612889085932/. Look though them and you'll find three pictures of a middle-aged cello duffer playing with others. Proof that I do get out on rare occasion.