Construction, restoration, historical research, teaching, museum consultancy: reducing Master Lorenzo Frignani’s work to the sole definition of “luthier” risks being limiting. For more than forty years, his career has moved across different worlds, from bowed instruments to plucked instruments, from the preservation of historical heritage to the training of new generations of craftsmen.

Throughout his career, he has built instruments, restored collections, collaborated on international projects focused on material sustainability, taught students from numerous countries, and assembled one of the most important private collections of historical plucked instruments. His activity continuously moves between craftsmanship, historical research, and cultural reflection.

In this conversation, we discussed tradition and innovation, the future of Italian lutherie, the importance of music for younger generations, and that search for beauty which, according to Frignani, still represents the true driving force behind the profession today.

You have been building and restoring instruments for more than forty years: what has changed most in the way you look at a musical instrument compared to when you started?

Compared to the beginning, practically everything has changed. When you start, what you mainly learn are methods, techniques, and the most immediate meaning of making things. Over time, however, your perspective changes profoundly.

Through study and experience acquired across different construction techniques — sometimes closely related, sometimes completely different — I pursued parallel paths involving both bowed and plucked instruments, and this inevitably changed my approach.

Today, when I look at an instrument, I no longer simply see an object that is well or poorly made: I see the historical context that generated it, the musical needs for which it was created, the technical journey it has undergone, and the transformations it has experienced over time.

Ultimately, a musical instrument is a complex object: it is technique, history, material culture, and human relationships all at once.

Your work ranges from construction and restoration to museum consultancy and historical research: do you consider yourself first and foremost a craftsman, a scholar, or a guardian of musical memory?

I believe it is natural for a craftsman to deepen their understanding of the meaning of their tradition through historical research. It is an awareness that inevitably enriches everyday work.

Curiosity pushes you to study: you end up becoming interested in social, cultural, and artistic aspects because everything contributes to explaining why an instrument was built in one way rather than another.

For this reason, I find it difficult to separate these roles. A craftsman who remains curious inevitably becomes a scholar as well.

In the end, building or restoring without questioning the historical meaning of what stands before you risks reducing the profession to a series of technical procedures, whereas lutherie is something much broader.

You have trained dozens of apprentices from many countries: what do you look for today in a young person who wants to become a luthier?

In teaching, it is essential to understand both the strengths and weaknesses within the technique that an apprentice is acquiring.

Every person has different timing, abilities, and sensitivities, and the role of a teacher is to gradually guide them toward independence.

This profession attracts many young people and sometimes may appear to be an alternative path compared to more conventional careers, but it requires considerable openness of mind. It means engaging with different cultures, unfamiliar traditions, and different ways of thinking about the relationship between craftsmanship and music.

The role of the master is not to create copies of oneself, but to accompany someone until the moment they can walk independently.

Much of your work is dedicated to studying the history of lutherie and preserving historical figures: how important is historical heritage in building the future of this profession?

It is extremely important because tradition provides the solid foundations that allow us to understand future directions.

Studying historical instruments and collections allows us to observe how the great masters pursued perfection of meaning more than purely millimetric precision.

It is remarkable to see how often overall balance, sound conception, and musical function carried greater importance than simple geometric perfection.

Today we also have technological and scientific tools that allow levels of analysis unimaginable only a few decades ago. However, this does not mean abandoning intuition or sensitivity.

Within construction processes and sound itself, there remain elements that are difficult to explain, and this is probably where the fascination of this profession lies.

Studying the past primarily serves to keep our focus clear: building instruments capable of responding to musical, acoustical, and artistic needs.

You have worked extensively on plucked instruments, from historical guitars to the conservation of extremely rare instruments: what makes these instruments different, from a luthier’s perspective, compared to bowed instruments?

Plucked instruments and bowed instruments differ profoundly in their musical use.

A classical, romantic, or baroque guitar is often an instrument of singularity: the musician is alone with the instrument and its repertoire.

Bowed instruments, on the other hand, are much more frequently born to interact with others, create larger ensembles, and generate combinations of voices.

For this reason, I consider plucked instruments more connected to an individual dimension, whereas bowed instruments are instruments of musical relationships.

Naturally, exceptions exist, as do virtuoso repertoire and specific traditions, but this general distinction strongly influences the construction approach itself: it changes how one thinks about sound response, tonal balance, and the relationship between musician and instrument.

In the European project dedicated to guitars built with non-tropical woods, you addressed issues of sustainability and alternative materials: how much will lutherie have to change in the coming decades?

I participated in a three-year European project involving schools and specialists from different countries.

The objective was to build instruments using non-tropical woods in order to understand how necessary it truly is to remain dependent on increasingly difficult-to-source materials.

The results were surprising.

In blind comparative tests, instruments built with non-tropical woods achieved excellent results, demonstrating that material alone does not determine final quality.

What truly matters is the construction project.

There is no instrument that is absolutely better than another: there are simply different instruments suited to different needs.

A quality instrument is not simply one that plays loudly, but one that is balanced, functional, and capable of creating emotion.

Music, after all, is one of the places where the physical and emotional worlds meet.

After serving as president of the association of Italian professional luthiers, how do you see the current state of Italian lutherie?

The real question, before even discussing markets, is: how is the relationship between younger generations and musical culture evolving?

If younger generations stop approaching music, in a few decades we will have fewer musicians and therefore less need for musical instruments.

That is the central issue.

We live in an increasingly digital world, where the physical relationship with instruments has progressively weakened.

For this reason, the question is not how many instruments we sell today, but what relationship with music today’s children and teenagers will develop.

Music remains something that generates well-being, creates relationships, and builds cultural identity.

If we lose that relationship, we lose something important not only culturally, but humanly as well.

Among restoration work, historical instruments, exhibitions, teaching, and research: is there an instrument or professional encounter that you consider the most significant moment of your career?

More than instruments, it has primarily been people who have left the deepest marks on my journey.

I was fortunate enough to meet individuals who, more than teaching me how to bend ribs or refine aesthetic details, taught me the meaning of beauty and the deeper sense of this profession.

I think of Guerriero Spataffi, who transmitted a freer and more unpretentious approach to work; Otello Bignami, with whom I deepened fundamental aspects of my training; and naturally Renato Scrollavezza, with whom conversations often extended far beyond the violin itself.

With Scrollavezza, discussions revolved around painting, architecture, sculpture — everything that possesses harmony and expressive power beyond mere function.

Ultimately, looking back, I realize that what remains truly significant are human relationships.

Even today I continue listening to anyone who may have something interesting to teach me, because in this profession one never stops learning.