We drove to Massachusetts last week. I haven’t done a drive like this since I drove out to Wyoming in 2016 for my residency at Brush Creek. Driving East is sort of a dull drive, especially through Indiana and Ohio, but once we got into upstate New York, things began to feel a bit more like home. If we had not been going to pick up my new cello, we would likely not have gone given the state of covid. Before we left we both took PCR tests and I rapid tested three times during my absence to make sure I wasn’t spreading anything around to our relatives. We had to abandon some visits and cancel some plans as a result of the virus and I did not enjoy the interstate rest stops nearly as much as I used to, but we made it, and on December 26th, we went to Michele’s beautiful loft in Waltham and I saw my new cello in person for the first time.

I was having nervous dreams about that moment with increasing frequency for about a month leading up to that moment. I knew it was done and that it was ready for me, but was unsure what it would sound like or look like. Seeing it sitting in it’s cello cradle for the first time, I loved the look. As I write this in my basement studio back in Madison, it is sitting next to me and I am enjoying looking at it as I write this. The photos below were taken hastily with my iPhone. I will add some more well-lit, true-to proportion photos when I can.

Of course, the look is one thing, but a very handsome instrument isn’t necessarily a great sounding instrument, and I was anxious to play it. We caught up briefly with Michele and she set up a chair for me. I got my bow out of my bow case and sat down to play. As I played the open strings for the first time, I felt relief wash over me. The sound and feel was what I had imagined and I felt validation for my choice.

The last time I had played this model of Michele’s was 2007 and I was betting on a very strong memory that I had of that experience. I knew at the time that this was the sound and feel I wanted, however that cello was not for sale. Thirteen years later, I made a bet on that somewhat brief experience. It was a difficult bet to trust given the fallibility of memory and the immense musical distance I had traveled in the space between 2007 and today. I found it difficult to fully trust that the original feeling I had would lead me to where I wanted to be, but when I played the cello for the first time, I felt confirmed that trusting my gut had paid off.

My plan for the next two weeks is just to have fun playing my favorite pieces on it so that it can get used to the music I like. It seems ready-made for the music of Robert Schumann and I introduced it to some Haydn today, which it also seemed to love. It is already teaching me new things about music I have played thousands of times, and that is exciting.

Getting my cello is not an end, it’s a new beginning. I am thrilled with the starting point of this cello, but this is the beginning of a relationship and I will need to spend time getting to know this cello. The cello will also be getting to know me, as odd as that may sound. Every note I play on this instrument will leave some kind of imprint on it, however small that imprint might be. Having “broken-in” a number of instruments this year, I feel like I understand how to do it. I didn't even realize this was a skill that could be attained and I am still a novice at it, but certainly I have more experience than most.

I realize as I type this that the term, “breaking-in,” as it applies to new cellos is wrong. “Breaking-in” conjures images of a fastball hitting a catcher’s mitt or a horse being tamed, or my bike being stolen from my utility shed. What I want to do with a new instrument is find what’s inside. It’s a process that involves “opening-up” rather than “breaking-in.” “Opening-up” is like a flower, or the sky when it rains, or a feeling shared with a friend. A new sound must be given, not taken. Playing a new instrument is organic, it requires one to relate to something that is seemingly inanimate. In this sense it may sound like a magical process, and it is in some ways, but it does tangibly change when it is played, and I think how it changes depends partly on how it is played. (Maybe that’s a magical thought too, but if it is, it helps me listen more clearly and so it’s a functional magical thought.)

I want to thank everyone who donated to help make this dream a reality. It means a lot that you all chose to invest in my career, my art, and my fulfillment in both. I will be preparing a donors’ concert for the summer which I will stream for non-locals to attend. It is my hope to play this cello for everyone who had a hand in its creation.