How I Became a Violin Maker in Cremona (Not Just Another Boring Bio)

Before my hands ever met maple and spruce, I was a violinist. Not just any violinist — I was first violin in a Ukrainian symphonic orchestra, living the life of rehearsals, solos, and the occasional fingernail disaster. Music was everything, and the violin was my constant companion. But as every serious player knows, there’s always that nagging question: Is there a better violin out there?

I decided to find out. I saved every penny to buy the violin I had been dreaming of — the one that would feel perfect in my hands and finally settle my restless musician’s soul. When the day came, I walked in, heart racing, and… it had been sold to someone else. Just like that.

Frustration, heartbreak, and cosmic irony all struck at once. Most people might have sighed, shrugged, and gone back to rehearsals. Me? I got curious. I started asking questions no performer normally asks: Why do some violins respond instantly while others resist? Why do some project effortlessly while others seem shy? How does wood transform into music?

So, like any sane, slightly obsessive violinist, I decided to make my own violin.

It was… terrible. The proportions were off, the arching made no sense, and the sound… well, let’s call it “experimental.” I didn’t even keep it — I literally destroyed it, sparing both myself and the poor piece of wood from further suffering. But that failure was a spark. It told me: if I truly wanted to understand violins, I needed to learn the craft properly.

That’s when I discovered Cremona, Italy — the birthplace of Stradivari, Guarneri, Amati, and all the great masters. It wasn’t a romantic whim; it was the logical place to study the secrets of the violin. I enrolled in the Antonio Stradivari International School of Violin Making, where I immersed myself in centuries of tradition, historical manuscripts, firsthand accounts, and modern acoustic theory.

I was incredibly fortunate to receive guidance from the distinguished violin maker Alessandro Krylov, father of the renowned violinist Sergey Krylov. His mentorship shaped the way I think about sound, wood, and the subtle alchemy that makes a violin sing.

I graduated with honors in 1998 and dove fully into violin making. Over the years, my work has gained recognition through international competitions, and my instruments are now played by musicians around the world. Since 2001, I’ve also taught at the Stradivari School, sharing what I know with the next generation of luthiers.

But let me be honest: I’m still learning. Every day, I study tone, response, and resonance. Every instrument I make is an experiment — one I hope will sound better than the last. There is no finish line in violin making; perfection is a moving target, and that’s the joy of it.

My approach blends classical Cremonese tradition, analytical thinking from acoustics, and the sensitivity of a lifelong performer. I still think like a violinist — I just express it through wood instead of strings.

Today, you can actually try my instruments in London, where musicians can experience the culmination of over two decades of craftsmanship, trial, and study. Each violin, viola, or cello is a story — of missed chances, failures, learning, and constant pursuit of sound.

And it all began with a violin I couldn’t buy, a first violin I shouldn’t have made, and the curiosity that carried me all the way to Cremona. The journey is far from over — and I wouldn’t have it any other way.