Interview with Ines + Broder Oetken Part 1/3

How are gongs made and how did Oetken Gongs come into being?
– Part 1 of a three-part interview with Ines and Broder Oetken on November 21, 2022, in Fockbek

We arrive at the Oetkens’ and are warmly welcomed – personally by the two owners and by a total of four dogs. Then we head straight into the kitchen, where we sit down with a cup of tea and start chatting in a cozy atmosphere. As we talk, more and more stories unfold about how Oetken Gongs originally came into being and at what point the magic in gong-making happens – but is there really any magic at work, or is it actually very hands-on?

How would you describe the moment of magic in gong-making?

Bop:
That's a good question: when and where, and what exactly is the magic? The point of magic is a question in itself. I was once asked whether I do some kind of ritual when making gongs. I had never thought about it like that, but in retrospect, I have to say: yes. Somehow, I do have my own rituals, though I don’t consciously perform them – they just happen.

And the moment of magic – well, it’s a good question: what exactly is the magic in the gongs? That the gong suddenly sounds beautiful? Then that would be at a later stage.

I always deal with the bad gongs. Once they’re good, they’re finished, and I give them away and move on to the next bad one. So, it’s not the glamorous job of working with wonderful gongs and their amazing sounds. As soon as they’re great, they leave me.

Ines:
I think “magic” is the wrong word. The guys see themselves too much as craftsmen for that. For an outsider or an artist, there might be this magical moment. But they don’t experience it as magical, because they have a certain relationship with the gong. They bring a certain respect to it. For me, one of those moments is when I walk into the gong workshop and see Willi sitting at the main block, looking out the window, and I think to myself: what a nice job, just gazing out the window. Until I remember what he’s actually doing: he’s breathing. He’s breathing. They have their own rituals.

The pause between hammering a gong is like a moment of stillness. Even the scraping has something meditative about it. When you watch Anja during the glowing process, moving with the same repetitive motions in total calm, it has a meditative quality. There are many moments like that. No one here would call them magical – but an outsider probably would.

Bop:
Many people are capable of creating the shape of a gong, but how the gong sounds – that’s the real question. Of course, it’s also true that I build gongs that I like. I’m lucky that many people seem to like the same kind of sound I like, and so they find my gongs amazing, because their taste is very similar to mine, or mine seems to work well for them. So, I do kind of set the tone for how the gong should sound. But if someone has a completely different taste, I’ll never be able to make the right gong for them. If I had to call something magical, I would say: it’s that moment when I like what I hear – that’s when it sounds right to me.

There was quite a bit of process beforehand, with constant changes in the sound.

Bop:
Yes, there's constant change involved. I often compare gong-making to getting pregnant. I know what I need to do, but whether it worked or not, I only find out afterwards: I’ve done everything so it looks like a gong and theoretically could sound like one. Then I listen to it and say: yes, it sounds good, it can go. Or: no, it doesn’t sound right.

Yes, I got pregnant – or no, I didn’t. It’s a process. The gong matures into being a gong – it develops. I can’t force it to sound the way I want it to. I can only work on it, and if it’s meant to happen, it will. And if it’s not meant to, it won’t.

The first gong I made here over ten years ago, when I started working independently, still isn’t finished. It’s still here. It wanted to stay here, and now it will. I’ve ignored it for a long time, maybe someday I’ll bring it back out. So far, it’s never reached the point where I’d say: it’s finished. I’ve taken it out and worked on it again and again over the years, but I’ve never been satisfied with it.

“Magical” is a word that elevates things, I think. When is the magical moment of birth? Basically, when life actually emerges. In this case, I’d also say: when the gong truly sounds.

You can’t really schedule that moment either – unless it’s a C-section.

Bop:
That’s not something I can do here. No emergency birth either. It takes time; certain things need to happen before it’s ready. And it’s very much the same in gong-making. You have to give it time, not try to force it – it will happen. Step by step: listen again, test, see – is it good, is it not good? Then keep going. But saying, “It has to sound now!” – that doesn’t work.

Fascinating. My question was also meant to leave room for that kind of open response.

Bop:
“Magic” is a powerful word. I feel more like a craftsman or artisan. I don’t see myself as a magician creating wonder or illusion.

You can touch the gongs, you can measure the frequencies – it’s all quite tangible. So what inspired you to start making gongs in the first place?

Bop:
Well, that’s a long story. I’m actually a civil engineer specializing in hydraulic engineering – totally unrelated. When I was studying, engineers were in high demand. But by the time I graduated, there were masses of us, and it was really difficult to get a job. I wasn’t the lucky one out of over a hundred applicants who got hired. So I ended up working for a geotechnical engineering office. I was constantly looking for something else and was actually overqualified for that job.

One day, a friend of mine who worked at Paiste came up to me and asked if gong-making might be something for me.

Sounded interesting, so I said, “Sure, I’ll give it a try.” I took two weeks of unpaid vacation and did an internship at Paiste. I enjoyed it, but I didn’t want to pursue it. If, for whatever reason, it didn’t work out, I imagined I’d be stuck in a dead-end career. If someone had asked me what I’d been doing all those years and I said, “I was making gongs,” they wouldn’t have known what to do with that. Who needs gongs? And as an engineer, no one would have hired me anymore – I’d be too far removed from the field.

I was always on construction sites, trying to make connections in hopes of landing a good job through networking. Then the construction industry slumped, and the company had to let someone go. Logically, they let me go – I was the newest hire, didn’t have a family to support, was overqualified, and clearly ready to move on. If I’d had to choose, I would’ve let me go too.

So I was unemployed again. I called Paiste once more, but the position had already been filled. I kept looking and had a job interview lined up when Paiste called me again. After discussing things with the other company, we agreed to let that opportunity go, and I started working at Paiste straight away. That’s how I finally ended up at Paiste—and started learning gong-making in reverse. Since I was meant to replace the gong master, I began with fine-tuning and then worked my way back to the actual construction, not the usual route of learning gong-building first and then fine-tuning.

Then Walter, my gong master, became seriously ill not long after, and the originally planned seven years of training and transition turned into a much shorter time. So I stepped into the role of gong master much earlier than intended.

Rudi (Walter’s predecessor and mentor) came out of retirement especially to meet with me once or twice a week and help me with the challenges I was facing. Back then, Paiste was the only gong-making company: if you're a car mechanic, you can go to another garage when you're stuck and talk to peers because there are many people in the field. That kind of support system simply doesn’t exist in gong-making. There are only a handful of us—and back then, just Paiste.

So Rudi came back out of retirement and truly helped me. During that time, I realized that Rudi and Walter had each developed their own paths and distinct styles to reach the same goal: a well-sounding gong. Personally, I see myself somewhere between the two. It was incredibly interesting for me to see how different the approaches can be. Every gong maker has their own model in their head and walks their own path—like taking different routes through a city to arrive at the same destination.

That’s how I ultimately came into gong-making. I led the gong manufacturing and spent nearly ten years at Paiste. One day, I was invited to what I expected to be a meeting to discuss new ideas. Instead, I was given an hour to pack my things and leave. I was out. Why? Because I didn’t “fit their concept”—whatever that means.

I never had the intention of going into business for myself with gong-making. It more or less happened by chance. At first, I fell into a deep hole. I was no longer allowed to do the very thing I wanted to do. The professional dead-end I had always feared had arrived.

But in the end, one thing led to another and a new door opened. Through a chain of contacts, a collaboration with Meinl came about, and eventually—Oetken Gongs, as it is today, was born.

PAUSE

I think most of the questions you can probably answer together anyway.

Ines: Oetken Gongs has now been around for 11 years. And due to COVID, we missed celebrating our 10th anniversary—we really wanted to throw a party! In the end, we weren’t even home, but good friends hung a garland on our door (that’s a local tradition), rang the bell, and called us asking where we were. So we at least had a small celebration with friends.

When is Oetken Gongs’ actual birthday?

Ines: January.

January 1st?

Bop: You don’t start something on a Monday. We began on January 4th, 2011.

Wow, so you’re almost at your 12-year anniversary?

Ines: Yes—12 years… a lot has happened in that time!

And what exactly has happened, what truly extraordinary and unique gongs have come into being—that’s what we’ll share in the next part of the interview.

👉 You can find the beautiful gongs here: http://www.oetken-gongs.de/ or also in my online shop. However, I recommend to reach out in person if you consider choosing an Oetken Gong.

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