On the soul of a rebuilt Steinway

Restoration is not archaeology. It is a conversation with the maker, carried out in wood, felt, and time.

When a Steinway arrives at the atelier, we listen first. We play it as it is — tired, perhaps, or brilliant in one register and mute in another — and we ask what the scale still wants to become.

The work that follows is unhurried. A soundboard is not merely replaced; it is voiced into the rim. Hammers are not simply hung; they are shaped until the treble speaks without glare and the bass without mud.

My goal is simple: that the musician who lives with the finished instrument should feel, from the first phrase, that they have been understood.