BIZZI Historical Keyboard Instruments

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝘀

One of the things I love most about building instruments is that there is a long period when they are neither pieces of furniture nor musical instruments.

They are becoming.

A few days ago I was working on the gilded acanthus leaves of the stand.

At the same time, the keyboard was still lying on the bench, covered in dust and waiting for its next stage of work.

These are not the photographs that usually appear in concert programmes.

But they are some of my favourite moments.

Because little by little, detail after detail, an instrument begins to reveal its character.

This Giusti 1681 still has work ahead of it, but every day it moves one step closer to music.

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗺

There is a stage in every instrument where something changes.

Not because a new component is added.

Not because the decoration is completed.

But because the instrument finally begins to reveal what was already inside it.

This double manual harpsichord 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗚𝗼𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘀-𝗧𝗮𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗻, commissioned by an orchestra, is now in its final stages of voicing and finishing.

At this point, much of the work becomes listening.

A small refinement of a plectrum.

A subtle adjustment between the registers.

A tiny change that suddenly allows the sound to breathe more freely.

𝗦𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗹𝘆, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿.

Those are some of my favourite moments as a maker.

Because this is where months of work begin to transform into music.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰.

One of the things I love most about historical instruments is that they reveal their character long before they produce a sound.

These hand-painted Italian volutes are currently being completed on a harpsichord after Giovan Battista Giusti, Lucca, 1681.

Every detail is painted by hand.

Every curve belongs to a decorative tradition that musicians and patrons admired centuries ago.

Sometimes we think of instruments only as objects that produce music.

Historically, they were much more than that.

They were part of daily life.

Part of a room.

Part of a family’s story.

And perhaps that is still true today

What detail catches your eye first?

𝗕𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻

Some moments from the preparation of one of our fortepianos at the Fondazione Teatro Coccia, for Rossini’s L’Italiana in Algeri.

It is always a special feeling to see historical instruments return to the stage and become part of a living production.

Before the audience enters the theatre, there is a great deal of invisible work:
preparation,
acoustics,
positioning,
listening,
and collaboration between musicians, technicians, and theatre staff.

And this is part of what makes these instruments so fascinating:
they still belong to the world of performance.

A heartfelt thank you to Fondazione Teatro Coccia for this beautiful collaboration.

One of the most beautiful parts of this work is witnessing young musicians discovering these instruments for the first time.

This weekend at Villa Bossi, during the harpsichord masterclass with Malta Piano Academy, seeing such young students approach historical keyboards with genuine curiosity and sensitivity has been deeply moving.

Luke, despite his young age, already has an incredibly natural musical sensitivity. Watching him listen, explore and react emotionally to these instruments reminded me why preserving this world truly matters.

Music history only remains alive when it is passed from one generation to the next. ❤️

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗼𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗝𝗼𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗻 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘇 — 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗕𝗲𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗩𝗲𝗿𝗱𝗶

Every now and then, instruments arrive in the workshop that force you to slow down.

Not because they are necessarily the most spectacular at first glance, but because you immediately feel that they carry an enormous amount of history inside them.

These two Viennese fortepianos by Johann Fritz are exactly like that.

One is probably around 1815, six octaves.
The other likely around 1825–30, already extended to six and a half octaves.

Both veneered in walnut.
Both still full of personality.

The later one still preserves all of its original bronze decorations, which is honestly quite remarkable. At the same time, it also suffered heavily from a previous restoration, especially on the soundboard, and part of it will unfortunately need to be replaced.

And this is the part people often do not see when they imagine “restoration”.

𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻.

Very often it is a continuous balance between preservation, compromise, historical responsibility and understanding what can still be saved without destroying the identity of the instrument itself.

What fascinates me about Fritz is that he belongs to a very particular moment in Vienna.

You still feel something close to the intimacy of the late classical world, but at the same time you already sense the piano moving toward Schubert, toward early Romanticism, toward a broader and more singing sound world.

One Fritz was connected to Barbara Keglevicz, one of Beethoven’s pupils.
Another remained in Verdi’s environment at Sant’Agata.

So even though Fritz is less famous than names like Walter or Graf, these are not secondary instruments at all.

And when you stand in front of them in silence, before beginning any work, you realise something important:

𝗧𝗵𝗲𝘆 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗱.

They are musical voices that somehow managed to survive for more than two centuries and are now asking what their next life will become.

𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀, 𝗵𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴

A few days ago we had the pleasure of welcoming a young violinist to Villa Bossi to prepare and record repertoire together with fortepiano.

Moments like these always remind us of something very important:

historical instruments are not only about preserving the past.

They are also about helping musicians discover new ways of listening, reacting, and making music together.

Especially in chamber music, these instruments create a very different balance and interaction between performers.

And seeing young musicians explore this world with curiosity and sensitivity is always deeply encouraging.