Secretary of the Italian Violinmaking Association and an active figure in the promotion of contemporary lutherie, Alessandro Fendillo represents a generation of craftsmen who, despite their young age, have already carved out a place for themselves in a highly competitive field. Born and raised in Cremona, the cradle of violinmaking tradition, he has built his path through international training, exposure to different masters, and a constant personal pursuit of sound and instrument quality. Alongside his work in the workshop and his teaching activity, his commitment to the association now places him at the center of the organizational and relational dynamics of the Italian violinmaking world. In this interview, he retraces the key stages of his development, between tradition, hands-on experience, and a personal vision of the craft.

Born and raised in Cremona, how much did your family influence your decision to become a violin maker?
It influenced me tremendously. I come from a family where my grandfather was a collector and played the violin as a hobby. From a very young age, I spent a lot of time with him: when his shop was closed, he would take me around the streets of Cremona, and we would often visit violinmakers’ workshops. It was a natural way of spending time together, but for me it was also a first direct contact with this world. Breathing that atmosphere from childhood had a deep impact on me and strongly shaped both my choice of school and my eventual profession.

What do you remember most from your years at the International School of Violinmaking?
I mainly remember the solid technical foundations the school gave me, which are still essential in my work today. But beyond the technical side, what stayed with me most is the human experience. I also attended the restoration course, which meant being in very international classes, with Japanese, Korean, and Australian students, and only a few Italians. This made the experience truly complete: it wasn’t just about learning a craft, but also about engaging every day with different cultures, working methods, and mindsets. It was a 360-degree education, both professionally and personally.

How important was it to work with different masters during your training?
It was very important, although not always easy. Having a single master allows you to deepen one method in a very structured way, while changing frequently—as happened to me, with five masters in five years—can be confusing at first, because each year you have to question what you’ve just learned. When you don’t yet have solid foundations, that can be destabilizing. But over time it becomes a great advantage: today I realize I use techniques and approaches learned at different stages of my training. It’s like having built a personal synthesis of various schools of thought, and in the end that helps you develop your own identity and direction, which is probably the most important result.

You also studied restoration: how did that experience influence your work?
Even though I didn’t pursue restoration as a main career, it was very useful. At the beginning I considered it seriously, especially because of my grandfather’s collection of instruments. But over time I realized that my true passion was making new instruments. I was more fascinated by following an instrument from its very beginning to its completion. That said, restoration left a strong mark on my approach: I still study old instruments, observe them carefully, and try to understand the work of the great masters of the past. Having the opportunity to closely examine important instruments and get to know different makers is a great advantage and contributes significantly to one’s growth.

After graduating, you worked with Stefano Conia and then Luca Bellini: what did these experiences give you?
They were very formative experiences, also because there was continuity between the two. Bellini had been a student of Conia, so the working method was quite similar. I had Bellini as a teacher at school, then I did my apprenticeship in Conia’s workshop, and later worked again with Bellini. This allowed me to consolidate a certain approach without having to start over each time. In the early years I was still quite inexperienced, so daily comparison was essential. However, the real turning point came when I started engaging with the world outside the workshop, meeting other luthiers and entering the market.

What role did fairs and competitions play in your development?
A decisive one. My first experiences in Japan, starting in 2013 with the Italian Violinmaking Association, were a turning point. When you work only in your workshop, you make instruments but don’t fully understand how they will be used or by whom. Participating in international fairs allows you to see your instruments in the hands of musicians and to understand what clients are looking for, especially in different markets like Asia. This direct feedback helps you become more aware of your work and improve. It was also essential for building connections and starting to make a name for myself.

What were the main challenges in opening your own workshop in 2012?
The main challenge was entering a very competitive market. Today there are around 250 violinmakers in Cremona, so making your way is not easy. You need to find a balance between a competitive price and the value of your work, without undervaluing it. At the beginning you can’t charge what a master with decades of experience does, but at the same time there is a lot of competition in that price range. The key is visibility: I always advise young makers to invest in being known, even if it means making sacrifices, such as offering discounts. Getting your instruments out there is fundamental. Then there are practical challenges—taxes, expenses, managing the business—so consistency and resilience are essential.

Since 2020 you have also been teaching: what is it like to move to the other side of the classroom?
It’s a particular feeling. I don’t teach full-time, but I run PCTO courses for a limited number of hours each year, and every time it’s a challenge because you never know who you’ll be working with. I always try to put myself in the students’ shoes and think about what I would have needed at that stage. That means going slowly and explaining every step, especially the “why” behind things. For me, many processes are now automatic, but for them they are not. There are also often language barriers, since the classes are very international. It’s demanding, but also very rewarding: the goal is to pass something on, to share experience, and help them truly understand the meaning of this work.

What distinguishes your approach to violinmaking?
I would say humility and consistency above all. I have a strong connection with a master, Nicola Lazzari, whom I consider a mentor. Even now I regularly go to him for advice and to show him my work, and I often receive criticism that helps me improve. I try to stay grounded, avoid arrogance, and give my best in every instrument I make. The idea is to work cleanly and honestly, without shortcuts, with commitment and continuity. This is a craft that requires time and experience: results come, but only with consistency.

In addition to your workshop, you serve as secretary of the Italian Violinmaking Association: what does this role involve?
It’s a significant responsibility, and in recent years it has become increasingly demanding. I handle communications and organizational aspects, and at times it requires a great deal of time—sometimes even more than the work in the workshop. The association has grown a lot, reaching nearly one hundred members, which makes management more complex. You have to mediate between many different perspectives, and it’s not always possible to satisfy everyone: even a simple communication can be interpreted in different ways. It requires patience and a strong sense of responsibility. It’s a challenging role, but also a stimulating one, because it allows me to actively contribute to the violinmaking community.