Cris Forster’s Instruments and Music

          Acoustic music is the most difficult music. Building musical instruments from the ground up is an expression of freedom and, therefore, an expression of imagination. Nothing about this art is hewn in stone. The creative builder examines all aspects of musical instrument construction, and on a case-by-case basis decides which traditions to keep, and which to throw out.
 

          I build because the tunings and timbres I want to hear do not exist on store shelves. Robinson Crusoe built because he had no choice. And yet, his creations also had no critics, and so his imagination became his life. Often when I hike through forests or climb mountains, I am reminded that only man knows what time it is. When I enter Crusoe’s world, or when in building an instrument time ceases to exist, I live with the knowledge that success is only a function of thought, work, and patience.
 

          The desire for perfection is the juggernaut of creativity. All my instruments are flawed. A bar may not ring as long as another bar; a canon bridge may be too high or too low; or a tone hole may be too wide or too narrow. I know where all the flaws are, and could find many more. But what is the point? The only thing that matters is to build and to make a music that is sustainable in time. I was born a musician, and have built musical instruments since 1975. In the words of Walt Whitman (1819–1892), “I . . . begin, hoping to cease not till death.”
 

          I also hope that these instruments will inspire others to think critically about acoustic music, and perhaps to build an original instrument or two. One of the happiest moments of my life is to finish a project, step back, and declare in a state of complete surprise, “I’d like to meet the person who built this instrument.”