Flute maker Wong Cheng-jung (汪正榮) has high ambitions. “Japanese and American flute makers lead the world,” he said. “But I want to show the world that Taiwanese flute makers can also come up with world-class flutes.”
The 53-year-old flute maker currently has his own studio in Kuandu, Taipei County. Making and fixing flutes has been his lifelong job and the only thing, Wong says, that makes him smile.
His two-story studio resembles a small factory, cluttered with machinery and what appear to be metalworking tools, though it’s difficult to immediately discern what exactly is made here. It’s only when Wong and his assistant pick up the tools and begin bending and hammering thin silver pipes that the object of Wong’s affections becomes clear.
“A ‘healthy’ flute is something that I will always insist on, no matter how much the flute is worth,” said Wong.
A healthy flute has a sound that is clean and loud, but is also well-tuned and functions normally and accurately. The finger holes are either completely open or sealed by keys when the flute is played, and there must be a good headjoint, the most important part of a flute, which is also the most difficult to make.
“This is the hardest part of the entire production process,” Wong said as he tested the headjoint he had just constructed by blowing into it, listening to the sound it made, and making adjustments. “It must fit the shape of the [player’s mouth] so when he [or she] blows into it, the air will flow smoothly from the headjoint to the rest of the flute.”
Wong then demonstrated the production of the instrument’s body. Following a manual that he calls the flutemaker’s “bible,” he installed keypads and neck screws onto a silver tube. “Whether the keys can close completely and open smoothly determines the sound the flute makes,” Wong explained. “If they do not work, you will hear the sound of air leaking from the flute as it is played.”
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
It takes approximately 200 hours for Wong to produce a brand new, hand-made silver flute, which could cost about NT$180,000. Although flutes can be made of wood, copper, silver or gold, according to Wong, silver is the best and most widely used material in today’s market.
Upon encountering his first harmonica when he was 14 years old, Wong fell in love with music. He first played a flute during his junior year in college. “I immediately fell in love with the musical instrument,” Wong recalls, adding that he purchased his first for NT$10,000. “I spent a lot of time practicing.”
It’s no surprise, then, that although Wong graduated from Feng Chia University with a bachelor’s degree from the Department of Water Resources Engineering and Conservation, his first job, after serving his compulsory military term, was as a flute maker at a Yamaha KHS Music Company factory in Luchou, Taipei County. “Working at KHS was the period when I learned pretty much everything about making a flute,” Wong said.
Ten years after he joined KHS, Wong left to establish his own studio, where he has been working for the past 16 years.
Although he is a flute maker, Wong does not always recommend expensive flutes. “Prices do not necessarily mean quality. As long as the flute comes with a good pipe that fits the flutist and tight seals that can completely open and close the instrument’s pinholes, it will be the best flute that a flutist can get. It does not have to be very expensive.”
THE FUTURE OF FLUTE MAKING
Nor does Wong always recommend fixing broken flutes. “If it is an expensive flute, I will do my best to fix it for my client. If it is not, I will recommend my client give it up because it usually costs more than NT$3,000 to fix a damaged flute, which can be more than what it is worth,” Wong said.
Even as he aspires to surpass his Japanese and American counterparts, Wong is also worried that the skills he knows will be lost someday, as fewer and fewer people take the time to learn the craft of flute making. “To make a good pipe for the flute, it takes time and experience to test, test and test. This part is not written down in black and white and cannot be described, either. It takes a lot of trial and error before a flute maker can really become a master,” Wong said. “Also, most parents would expect their children to become remarkable flutists, instead of flute makers.”
Flutist James Lin (林仁斌), who has been one of Wong’s regular customers for 20 years, calls Wong a “master” of flute making. “What is so special about him is that he has respect for artists,” Lin said.
The 37-year-old flutist said that Wong always insists on making flutes that fit his customers’ needs. “Every hand-made flute has its own character. Wong is capable of making the unique character of each flute fit what its owner needs.” Lin added, “In addition to the term ‘healthy,’ I think ‘pure’ should be another good word to describe his [Wong’s] flutes.”
According to Lin, “preciseness” is the most important of a flute’s attributes. “I always feel like I am in total control of the flute, whenever I am playing one of his products,” Lin said.
The small platform at Duoliang Train Station in Taitung County’s Taimali Township (太麻里) served villagers from 1992 to 2006, but was eventually shut down due to lack of use. Just 10 years later, the abandoned train station had become widely known as the most beautiful station in Taiwan, and visitors were so frequent that the village had to start restricting traffic. Nowadays, Duoliang Village (多良) is known as a bit of a tourist trap, with a mandatory, albeit modest, admission fee of NT$10 giving access to a crowded lane of vendors with a mediocre view of the ocean and the trains
For many people, Bilingual Nation 2030 begins and ends in the classroom. Since the policy was launched in 2018, the debate has centered on students, teachers and the pressure placed on schools. Yet the policy was never solely about English education. The government’s official plan also calls for bilingualization in Taiwan’s government services, laws and regulations, and living environment. The goal is to make Taiwan more inclusive and accessible to international enterprises and talent and better prepared for global economic and trade conditions. After eight years, that grand vision is due for a pulse check. RULES THAT CAN BE READ For Harper Chen (陳虹宇), an adviser
Traditionally, indigenous people in Taiwan’s mountains practice swidden cultivation, or “slash and burn” agriculture, a practice common in human history. According to a 2016 research article in the International Journal of Environmental Sustainability, among the Atayal people, this began with a search for suitable forested slopeland. The trees are burnt for fertilizer and the land cleared of stones. The stones and wood are then piled up to make fences, while both dead and standing trees are retained on the plot. The fences are used to grow climbing crops like squash and beans. The plot itself supports farming for three years.
President William Lai (賴清德) on Nov. 25 last year announced in a Washington Post op-ed that “my government will introduce a historic US$40 billion supplementary defense budget, an investment that underscores our commitment to defending Taiwan’s democracy.” Lai promised “significant new arms acquisitions from the United States” and to “invest in cutting-edge technologies and expand Taiwan’s defense industrial base,” to “bolster deterrence by inserting greater costs and uncertainties into Beijing’s decision-making on the use of force.” Announcing it in the Washington Post was a strategic gamble, both geopolitically and domestically, with Taiwan’s international credibility at stake. But Lai’s message was exactly
RSS