Close to Home—Rosemary Curtin’s Arthur Edward Smith Viola Has Spent Its Life in Sydney

By Cliff Hall | From the January/February 2026 issue of Strings

When Rosemary Curtin was a child, some of her earliest violin lessons took place in the humid highlands of Papua New Guinea, where music making required equal parts ingenuity and imagination. Her mother, Jill Curtin, had no formal violin training but followed the Suzuki Method manuals closely, guiding Rosemary’s early practice and even offering informal lessons for neighborhood children. 

Decades later, in the cool expanse of the Sydney Opera House, the younger Curtin plays an instrument whose story mirrors her own: a 1930 viola crafted by Arthur Edward Smith, an English-born maker who also left familiar ground in search of new possibilities. Both journeys—hers from the tropics to Australia’s concert stages, his from England’s workshop traditions to the bright lights of Sydney—show how artistry adapts to its environment without losing its sense of purpose.

Smith’s route to violin making was as unorthodox as it was inspired. Born in London in 1880, he trained as an engineer and played viola in a local orchestra before deciding he could build a better instrument himself. Working largely from the Hills’ Antonio Stradivari: His Life & Work, he learned learned by eye and by a stint in the Maldon shop of C.W. Jefferies. After emigrating to Melbourne in 1909 and later founding his Sydney workshop, he developed a style marked by glowing orange-red varnish and responsive tone. During wartime shortages, he even produced his own strings under the “Paganini” name, a testament to his inventiveness. His violas, warm and clear voiced, became part of how Australia first began to hear itself.

Nearly a century after Smith’s Hunter Street workshop was filled with the smell of varnish and linseed oil, his instruments continue to find players who share his temperament. Curtin is one of them. In her hands, Smith’s viola isn’t simply an heirloom of Australian craftsmanship; it’s a reminder that artistry, at its most durable, depends less on geography than on curiosity and will. After exploring the history of its maker, I asked Curtin about the soul of her instrument. 

Tell me about your primary instrument. 

It’s an Arthur Edward Smith viola made in Sydney in 1930.

What do you know about this instrument’s history? 

It was originally owned by a young woman by the name of Rosalind “Rosy” Gumpertz. She graduated from the New South Wales Conservatorium of Music in 1933 and was an early member of the newly formed Sydney Symphony Orchestra (SSO), which had formed in 1932. She was one of the first women to play with the orchestra. I’m not certain how long she played this particular instrument, as over the course of her career, she went on to own a number of other A.E. Smith violas. It was later owned by Barbara Cran, a beloved local Sydney string teacher and wife of a former SSO principal bassoonist, John Cran. 

How did you come to play it? What first drew you to it, and how did you know it was the right fit? 

I was looking for a new instrument, and it had long been an ambition of mine to own a Smith viola. Collectively, Smith’s violas have a fine reputation. Despite Smith having produced a variety of models and sizes over his long career, they can all be said to share the common traits of a warmth and depth of sound. A number of violists whom I admire own and play them. A colleague tipped me off that it was for sale. I didn’t take long to decide that this was my instrument.

What gift does your instrument bring to your playing that can’t be found in any other instrument? 

For me it’s the personal history of it having been owned and played by an earlier “Rosy” who, like me, studied in Sydney and became a member of the SSO.

What is your instrument’s personality and temperament like? Does it remind you of anyone or anything? 

When I first tried out the instrument, I was really taken with its resonance and responsiveness. It opened up a whole new world of colors and possibilities for musical expression. 

Does it perform better in certain situations? 

I most enjoy playing it in chamber music settings where I can really enjoy its resonance and range of tonal colors.

When you play your viola, do you sense Smith’s spirit of curiosity and self-reliance in its design or sound? 

Definitely. As I understand it, Smith played viola himself as a young man and had a particular interest in their design, recognizing that there was a paucity of good instruments available. He experimented with different models and lengths. My instrument is a bit of a hybrid in its form. It doesn’t take after a Strad or Smith’s later Brescian models with their darker varnish. Its varnish is orange-red, and its length, at 16-3/4 inches, is somewhat unconventional.

Smith’s Sydney period, around the time your viola was built, is often described as his most confident era. Are there sonic or tactile qualities (response, color, projection) that make you think, yes, this was made by a craftsman at the height of his powers? 

Yes, my instrument certainly bears those hallmarks. I think Smith was entering that period in 1930 when this instrument was made. He was clearly developing confidence, trying out different designs as the “go-to” luthier in Sydney for local and visiting international musicians, including the likes of Yehudi Menuhin and David Oistrakh. The responsiveness of my instrument is often commented upon, and the effort Smith went to with the varnish is obvious. 

Given that Smith migrated from England to Australia and became a kind of bridge between Old World and New, does your instrument’s Australian birthplace ever take on symbolic meaning when you perform Australian or British repertoire? 

At one point, almost the entire viola section of the SSO was said to have played Smiths. Nowadays, there are three of us. It certainly feels right to me to be performing in the SSO on a Smith. And Smith violas continue to enjoy a good reputation both across Australia and in the UK. 

As far as repertoire is concerned, one of the most meaningful projects I’ve engaged in was unearthing a rather English-sounding work by a youthful Australian composer Dulcie Holland, who dedicated her Sonatina for Viola and Piano to Rosalind Gumpertz in 1932, when the two women were students at the NSW Conservatorium together. Pianist Jeanell Carrigan published the work with Wirripang [an independent publisher of Australian sheet music],and together with her, I recorded the work a few years ago in the same Conservatorium building. That certainly felt like a homecoming. 

If given the ability, what would your instrument say to you if you sat down
for tea (or any beverage of your choice)? 

My instrument is often by my side at the Opera Bar on a warm summer evening, enjoying a post-concert rosé at the Sydney Opera House. I hope it would tell me more about Smith’s shop in Hunter Street in the center of Sydney in those early days as the orchestral scene was getting established. And of course the different musicians [who’ve played it] and the circumstances under which it has been performed on over the last 90 years, especially in its early days. I would love to know more.

Rosemary Curtin’s Gear

Bow 1950 Louis Gillet

Strings Larsen A, Pirastro Evah Pirazzi D, G, and C

Case Bam Stylus Contoured

Rosin Bernadel