Kokopelli, Part 3

Hello all, it's almost the weekend!

I attended the last of my flute-making classes with a measure of optimism and concern since, I seemed to have fallen at the back of the pack in trying to get my flute to slice air into music in the last class. But it was a beautiful evening to get the details right.

The other students hard at work on their flutes outside of Majestic View's Nature Center.

I set to work with a wood chisel carving out a longer neck piece so air exiting the sound hole didn't push up right against a mountain of flute body. The extra space dug out an extra three inches or so. It was starting to look more professional--or as professional a first-time novice can get their crooked reed to look.

Peter, our resident wood worker, sands down the foot end of his flute. He brought a beautiful carved bird to class!

Then I went right back to the same issue I had had last week, which was my bird resting over the uneven flue. I was at that a good half hour until our instructor, Grover, came over to check on my progress.

He borrowed my flute and bird from me, gave the piece an experimental blow, readjusted, tried again, and made a couple recommendations:

First, I file the fipple, or knife's edge, to a better angle of attack with the flue. I had originally filed the knife's edge to a 45 degree angle, or close to that, but I ended with a 60 degree angle or so to better cut the air forced out of the flue.

Grover filing the fipple of my flute to line up with the flue.

Second, I cut the length of my bird down so there was less uneven area to rest on. He marked a few lines on the bird so its block would be maybe two inches long instead of three. I agreed with this assessment since the bird was causing me a lot of grief. Or I was causing myself grief because I can't wood chisel/sand straight to save my life.

Third, and this came later, was to add a spacer to close the distance between the air exiting the flue and entering the sound hole. A centimeter is a huge space to cross for that tiny jet of air and it needed a little help getting closer to that knife's edge before dissipating.

I did everything I was told to do.

I filed the knife's edge to a stronger, sharper angle, sawed around my bird's "feet" to make it better fit over the Slow Air Chamber, flue and sound hole, and sanded, sanded, sanded the heck out of a little spacer--height, length and thick-wise. That bit of sandpaper never stood a chance.

Sanding that spacer to the correct proportions was time-consuming, but that little nub of wood rewarded me for my efforts!

Meanwhile, other students were warming up orchestra style all around me. Me too, me too, just wait! I did let my neighbor borrow my phone because she wanted a specific pentatonic scale and I have an app with a piano keyboard. She found her base note (the sound the flute played without holes drilled into it) was an F.

Physics takes over at this point. The length of the flute, the thickness of the walls, the spacing and size of the holes, all has an effect on how a flute will sound. Just like a bass, the longer the flute, the deeper the tone. If the sound chamber is narrow, say because of thick walls because the carver was getting a blister, the pitch is going to be high.

A flute-maker may start with a certain base note, but as soon as holes are drilled into the flute, it changes the shape and therefore nature of the sound wave traveling through the sound chamber. A flute that started flat can end up sharp once all is said and done.

There was a lot of science going on as folks tuned their flutes. Our wood-carving expert Peter was strides head of the rest of us, he managed to get his flute to tune and play up a veritable octave of music. I was still struggling with my bird.

Sawing the bird was particularly challenging because as you can see, it's not a very big block of wood--there's only so much to grip while saw teeth bear down on your hand. And the side I sawed down on seemed to go with the grain, it was very difficult to make headway. It felt good to watch those pieces go flying.

My lumpy bird cut down to size and the sanded spacer set into the sound hole of the flute.

Prepped, I popped in the spacer, lined up that bird, took a steadying breath and...

SHE SINGS! 

Having secured my phone once more, I got a D5 out of the flute. A super high D because my sound chamber was so narrow inside. But for the moment I didn't care, I had music! Sweet, ear-screeching music! 

I was nervous about drilling the holes because a couple other students had and their flutes no longer made sound--something had gone wrong with the resonance in the sound chamber. One student even went so far as to use a machete to split her flute open again and carve out the interior.

Having spent the majority of class time making modifications, and watching a storm cloud roll in with these lightning bolts that kept getting larger and larger, I thanked my instructor for the class and took off at a jog with my equipment.

Safely at home just before the sky ripped open, I set right back to work with a power drill to carve out a wider sound chamber, consulted the almighty Internet for tuning recommendations and drilled some holes. So far, I've gotten the flute to play the first and second holes closest to the foot end. I'll have to science the rest.

But still, what a fun class. I would go so far as to say the experience was not about the flute itself, though it did serve to tie the whole package together. I got to learn a few more skills, a bit more about air and its properties, problem-solving and the importance of patience and perseverance--all things that will ultimately reward you with a tune in your pocket. 

The completed project, a flute in the style of Native American musical instruments.