THE HISTORY OF BLANCPAIN

We followed Lorenzo so he could take us
to the guitar tree, which by virtue of its resonant
qualities leads us to the workshop of
Jeanmichel Capt.
The instrument-maker starts with some
kind words about the old forester. The two
form a pair, sharing the same enthusiasms,
each in his own way. Both are moulded from
nature with the same outlook on life. What
he says sounds like a warning: “Those trees
are only there because people like Lorenzo
are there. I’m not sure that in the future
we’ll still be able to find good musical-instrument
wood. To select it you have to be sensitive
to many other things and go beyond
material considerations. Lorenzo is the forest,
living in its vibe. He sees everything
down to the youngest, most vulnerable
shoots. He takes good care of them, which
is why he’s the forest’s gardener. Maybe the
last. The Risoud foresters would love to follow
in his path, but they can’t. They’re torn
by the yield quotas imposed upon them.
They work to produce and are no longer in
step with the growth of the area, and without
any feeling for the spruce. It’s depressing
to think about it, but I’m convinced that the
values so dear to our gardener in the Risoud
forest will come back.”
FROM FOREST TO WORKSHOP
“I deliberately chose not to learn from
books. I’m more in favour of empirical
research. It gives you a greater chance of
being innovative if you’re inspired by what I
might call the lessons of discovery. Besides,
I’ve never been a good pupil because I had
difficulty in absorbing what had already
been pre-digested in a learning method
opposite to mine: that of master and pupil,
which distances us from real life.”
It is no coincidence that his words carry a
didactic resonance. Before taking up the
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noble art of making stringed instruments,
Jeanmichel taught manual crafts in a school
on the shores of Lake Geneva. His first guitar
dates from then, an electric guitar carved
from the wood of a school desk. “I was surprised
by the result and even pleased that I
managed to make something without any
previous knowledge,” he recalls. His second
effort, an acoustic guitar, was less glorious.
“I remember I really made a mess of it; at
that time I didn’t know that resonance wood
even existed.” Such early failures were small
matter in the eyes of the guitar-maker of
Le Brassus, for whom such obstacles are
there to be overcome in the momentum of
progress; they are part of the “lessons of discovery”.
Perhaps they are indeed the driving
force since, in step with ongoing experiences
and improvements, Jeanmichel has perfected
his art to the point of becoming a truly
masterful craftsman. According to many
specialists, his guitars are among the finest