Alejandra Bedoya, the first Colombian luthier trained at the Stradivari School

Tears streamed down her cheeks and hit the floor as her body shook uncontrollably. Even today, at 40, many family members who saw her at that Mass at the La Consolata parish in the Laureles neighborhood of Medellín still believe that 12-year-old Alejandra Bedoya was overcome with sadness over the death of her great-aunt's husband . She didn't even understand it herself.

“What moved me was the violinist,” he says in his luthier workshop, while sanding the wood with which he is building one of the violins that will be given to 22 young musicians from around the country who will attend free master classes, taught by the 20 competitors from ten countries who will compete for $70,000 in prizes, during the first Bogotá City International Violin Competition, which will take place from October 30 to November 7. In total, five luthiers are entrusted with this task of the event organized by the Mayor's Office, through the Secretariat of Culture, Recreation and Sports of Bogotá.

Alejandra already knows that without realizing it, she had fallen prey to what is known as Stendhal syndrome, that inexplicable psychosomatic disorder that occurs due to exposure to extreme beauty and that was named after the description made by the French writer, moved to the point of paroxysm when, in the 19th century, he felt overwhelmed upon seeing the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, Italy.

It was the first time I'd heard a violin: "I had no criteria to decide whether or not he was a good violinist. I've always been very sensitive to beauty in all its manifestations, and that day, something was activated that awakened a particular curiosity about sound."

That epiphany paved the way for her, leading her to become the first Colombian to study lutherie in Cremona, Italy, at the Antonio Stradivari School. There, she trained in restoration and acoustic physics for bowed instruments for eight years, starting at age 21 , thanks to the support of the Ramírez Moreno Foundation, Suramericana, and Antioquia Presente. She later took courses in Berlin.

At the time of the revelation, the girl, who lived with her parents and two sisters in the Manrique neighborhood, downtown Paisa, was in seventh grade at Alvernia, run by the Capuchin Tertiary Sisters. "I'm the youngest; my father is a merchant (Luis Carlos) and my mother was an archivist (Martha Cecilia). There are no artists in the family. Currently, one of my sisters is a bookseller, and the other works in the cultural sector (Diana Marcela and Ángela)."

She realized that there were girls at her school studying at the Amadeus Network of Schools and Bands and at Batuta. One of them, a violin player, was her first teacher; she lent her the instrument and encouraged her to enroll in both programs. When she turned 15, she didn't ask for a party or a trip, but rather for a violin and met Cuban maestro Juan Miguel Echavarría, with whom she began private training.

She then joined the Antioquia Youth Orchestra, finished high school at 16, studied for a degree, convinced she would become a musician, and applied to the Conservatory of the University of Antioquia, but didn't pass. She cried and kicked, searching for something to do while she found her way, and enrolled in carpentry and cabinetmaking courses at the Sena (National Seminary of National University of Antioquia), which she combined for three years with other courses in wood design, veneer, and carving: "Since I studied with nuns, my weaving and embroidery always made me skilled manually."

He was 17 years old, and on Friday, October 11, 2002, while shopping for his mother's birthday present, they were violently robbed with a gun in hand. They took his car keys and then stole his violin. "I thought about making another one. I didn't feel it would be as difficult as replicating a typewriter or a trumpet; for me, it was just wood and strings."

Immersed in that idea, the first luthier school appeared: a joint program between SENA (National Institute of Technology) and the University of Antioquia, the Andean Development Corporation, the Austrian Consulate, and the Antioquia Presente Corporation. “The threads of fate guided me. There were no places available, someone dropped out, and I got in. I was the youngest and was part of the first cohort. There were several of us women, but I was the only one who continued. The first instruments ever made in Medellín were made there; they were sold at a symbolic price to help support the school.”

I thought about making another one. I didn't feel it would be as difficult as replicating a typewriter or a trumpet; to me, it was just wood and strings.

Those first violins became part of the city's heritage and were acquired by foundations, associations, and businesses. "I have my first instrument because Suramericana bought it and donated it to me.

The quality of the wood was very basic, but it was a great process, and for being the first, at 18 years old, it's incredible."

Cremona, in northern Italy, has about 70,000 inhabitants and can be explored in just one hour. Alejandra arrived in July 2006, two months before starting classes, to immerse herself in the language, take long bike rides along the banks of the Po River, stuff herself with the famous Lombard nougat, and read, read, read, read, because she knew she was at a disadvantage compared to her future classmates.

That first year there were no parties or socializing; her refuge was the libraries: “All those people were polyglots; they even knew Latin, sacred geometry, design, and materials technology. I only spoke English because I was a rocker and learned to understand the songs. After six months, I was already fluent in Italian, and today I can get by in French and Portuguese.”

The school had 200 students. Strangely, there were more women in a trade that is thought to be for men and older people. “It was the whole world in one room. There were Turks, Afghans, two South Americans, one Central American, one Englishman, one German, one American, one Palestinian, one Finn. Asians made up only 10 percent. Last year I went—she visits the school every year—and now 80 percent are Asian (Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese). I was fortunate because I was taught by masters—most of them now retired—who lived through the golden age of lutherie. I received firsthand knowledge and benefited from their contacts.”

When he works in his studio, he finds himself enthralled listening to Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2, Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto, and Beethoven's Violin Concerto. He also has pieces by Vivaldi, Mozart, Bartók, and Bach on his playlist above all others. Among the Baroque pieces, he highlights Telemann.

“The violin is standardized; it's a perfect, finite instrument that hasn't changed for 500 years. For violas and cellos, I do work with ergonomic measurements for women and the anatomy of Latin Americans, which is different from that of Europeans. My goal is to make instruments that are very sonorous, comfortable, lightweight, easy to play, beautiful, and harmonious.”

The materials are a different story. Everything is imported. The violins he's building for the competition are made of wood he bought when he studied in Italy, and by then they'd already been aged for 20 years. The back, bands, and neck are made of Balkan maple. For the top, he uses spruce. Whenever he travels, he brings wood he buys from specialized lumberjacks. He gets the strings in Vienna from the firms Thomastik-Infeld and Pirastro: "When you buy a factory-made instrument, even if it's well made, it's soulless. One made by a luthier comes with its soul, and the musician adds his own." He must protect the wood from environmental imbalances, temperature, and humidity. It takes years for it to stabilize and lignify, which is the hardening of its cell walls so that sound transmission is faster.

That's a romantic and patriarchal stereotype, as the story continues to be told by men. In Europe, lutherie is detached from gender. There are female restorers who have made great advances and discoveries in acoustics, instrument design, and materials research. You do need to be in shape, but with restrained strength.

We were once in a collection of about 15 priceless pieces, including (Giuseppe) Guarneri, (Giovanni Battista) Guadagnini, (Francesco) Ruggieri, (Giovanni Battista) Rogeri. And I came across several Stradivarius pieces.

It exists in the minds of people who don't even know what lutherie is, because he, without units of measurement, electricity, rulers, or current technology, reached the highest point.

He didn't invent anything, but he finished it. He married twice, lived to 93 when the maximum life expectancy was between 40 and 60. He had 11 children and made more than 1,000 instruments. I've made 40 or 50 in my life, and I'm exhausted.

Bogotá is where my instruments are played the most. Now there's a luthier school in Ibagué.

The media has used that title a lot, and some people hate me for it, but I have been a pioneer. I was the first Colombian woman to complete this school 20 years ago. Now there are many women in the training process, and my heart needs that to continue. Being a pioneer isn't so cool because I faced many problems alone. I've had to battle with colleagues, and I ask for their respect.

I never gave it up, even though I'm now a violin tourist. When I returned, I joined the Monteverdi Orchestra.

It was very sad at the time, but in retrospect, it allowed me to follow the path I was meant to follow. Not being able to open the doors I wanted led me to what would become the joy of lutherie.