David Pötzl

* 1975

  • "It's just a tragedy and a terrible shame. When you know what used to be there before, during the First Republic before the war, what kind of people were there, how the city flourished with theatres, symphony orchestras, restaurants, it was just vibrant. And nowadays, when you come to Luby and see there is nothing there - a few guys like Mr. Skála trying to start something, so that's good. That's the only benefit for that little town. There's no school there, it'd been there for decades. The factory was there for so many years after the war and had to close down, there's nothing to keep it going. And it's a terrible shame. A few individuals are trying to restore it nowadays. True, Mr. Holiš, for example, has been there for some time and does everything well, but it's a holiday destination rather than a violin-making hub. Of course it's nice there, it's a tucked-away region that's just lovely, but the production has disappeared and can hardly be sustained."

  • "Fortunately, we still have material from my grandfather which he collected during his lifetime, and he was actually buying it from the old Germans. When they went to Germany after the war, they would come to grandpa and say, look, we know we're going away and we have some material here. We'll give it to you, and grandpa always gave them some money... and got the material that way, because otherwise it would have been stolen. There were real were treasures that they left behind when they went. And there were such huge supplies of material during the liberation, those were some confused times. See, Luby supplied the whole world! Luby and Mirecourt in France were the two hubs of instrument making. Luby had the added advantage that there were a lot of sawmills there, and the timber was cut and stored there, and then sent out into the world. When they liberated us and the Germans went away, there was all this beautiful material left and a lot of it was just taken. Nothing was left. Some people knew that Grandpa was a fair man, so they just came and said, 'Look, do you want it? We can't take it with us.'"

  • "I remember the workshop very well. It was on the first floor, overlooking the orchard, the hill, the chestnut alley in front of it, and I remember the floorboards were worn through. It didn't creak but it had had a bit of a run; a small iron stove, and an old radio that glowed green when on but didn't make much sound. We would occasionally tune in to a German station, but it was old. And then there was a lot of stashed wood, a kind of pull-up lamp over his bench, and I remember the smell of the varnish. He had different paints on the bench, and then there was a drill. So yes, I do, I remember that workshop."

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    Mariánské Lázně, 14.06.2024

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The smell of Grandpa’s workshop cannot be forgotten

David Pötzl in his father's workshop, Karlovy Vary
David Pötzl in his father's workshop, Karlovy Vary
photo: Witness's archive

David Pötzl was born in Karlovy Vary on 14 June 1975. His father Jan Pötzl, a master violin maker, continued the family tradition of making stringed instruments. His mother Marie was born in Český Krumlov, graduated from Charles University and founded pedagogical-psychological counselling in the former Czechoslovakia. During the Velvet Revolution, his father was on secondment in Hamburg and the whole family was with him. David Pötzl later graduated from high school, but he was still attracted to violin making. After graduation, he enrolled at the violin school in Luby instead of going to university. He returned to Hamburg to practice. As of 2024 he was specialising in repairing historical stringed instruments and living in Karlovy Vary.