I have already emphasized that the “permanent relationship of luthiers” between Cremona and lutherie should not be considered a priority. The lutherie tradition of our city should not be limited to residence, nor even to the domicile of the Master Luthier. Its “Cremonese identity” is essentially the expression of a particular know-how that has evolved by relying on the great tradition of which Cremona is the custodian. Contemporary Cremonese lutherie is not merely the reproduction of instruments from a glorious past; rather, it refers to them while remaining attentive to the needs of the contemporary musician, whether composer or performer.

On this point, I believe a balance has already been found. Foreign luthiers who work under the strong influence of the lessons of our classical lutherie do not need to conceal their origins, but they do need to highlight the cultural heritage they acquired in Cremona.

I would stress that lutherie is an art in the service of another art: music. The instrument gives voice to music, and this is not a sound defined a priori (standardized); rather, each instrument possesses a timbre that characterizes it. The instrument is endowed with its own identity, and this is an essential component of music. When music is interpreted, it fulfills its purpose. A piece of music on a score is “latent music”: it lacks the defining characteristic of being an “aesthetic expression.” The arts require reaching the imagination of the audience, and this happens through the senses. We should not forget that the term aesthetics derives from the Greek αἴσθησις (aísthēsis), whose meaning corresponds in Italian to sensation, perception.

It is a matter of knowledge through sensory experience, which is delivered to the “self.” Subjectivity recognizes that it is in the presence of a work of art. But first there is the experience, which in the case of music relies on hearing. It is no coincidence that the term “sense” shares the same etymology as the term “feeling,” which pertains to aesthetic enjoyment. One could revisit the philosophy of art here, but such a path would distract from the main argument: lutherie is art.

Let us therefore limit ourselves to an example. A child using crayons “draws,” but (the contrast is necessary!) only very rarely does his “scribble” reach significant aesthetic levels. Yet one cannot deny that the horizon within which he operates is nonetheless an expression of his aesthetic imagination. When he is praised, to gratify him, one says: “Well done, you made a work of art.” By contrast, when he performs an arithmetic operation, one observes that “he is good at mathematics.” This does not mean he is a mathematician, but that his approach to “quantities” constitutes knowledge within that specific disciplinary horizon.

Finally, it is necessary to refer to the nature of “aesthetic judgment,” which is always subjective.

This long-winded digression—forgive me, dear reader—argues, to put it bluntly, that lutherie is not merely a form of artistic craftsmanship; rather, when it reaches exceptional results, it is art. The luthier may remain at an infantile stage and abandon the undertaking, may achieve respectable results as a craftsman, or may… become an artist.

So what does certification have to do with this? Is certification to be dismissed so lightly? Is it an issue devoid of substance?

Not so fast!

If by certification one means (as numerous interlocutors, including master luthiers, have rightly stressed) a mere bureaucratic matter, then it is only pretentiously cloaked in legality. A statement of principle does not constitute a scientific fact, much less does it confer credibility regarding the value of the instrument. It simulates an “identity card,” listing data (easily falsifiable!) and following the methods of an old-fashioned positivism that may once have been useful, but is now outdated.

Indeed, to continue with the example, identity cards today are “digital.” The example is somewhat flawed (it limps a little!), but it may still serve: let us take the similar within the dissimilar.

The digital card, by analogy, teaches us that the scientific and technological developments currently at our disposal must be taken seriously. It also reminds us that what truly matters are the “measurements,” not the narratives. It is the data intrinsic to the instrument that matter.

Thus, certification—should a master luthier wish to make use of it, or should the buyer of the instrument request it—can be supported by scientific measurements that provide incontrovertible data.

Certainly, dendrochronology, varnish chemistry, acoustics, the history of the instrument, and the cultural era connected to the music in which it was made—all of these constitute important data. But an examination that highlights the instrument’s “mechanical characteristics” determines, in itself, the incontrovertible aspect that fixes its identity. Through the mechanics of the instrument, even if over time it changes through use and further examinations become possible to update previous ones, one can observe how the memory of its original “behavioral nature” remains.

It is precisely a dynamic vibro-acoustic analysis, interconnected with an analysis of the interaction among the instrument’s parts, that determines its “signature,” even as time passes and the history of the instrument’s use evolves.

Therefore, I believe that in a different context—not the one originally alluded to when discussing certification—the latter today takes on entirely renewed characteristics that may arouse considerable interest and foster fruitful discussion.