Making and tuning
How a handpan is actually built, what the tuner is doing with the hammer, and what it takes to become a maker yourself.
A handpan is a thin steel dome whose tuning lives entirely in the shape and tension of the
metal. There are no strings to adjust, no reeds to swap and no frets to reposition. Everything
you hear was put there with a hammer and is held in place by the residual stress in the sheet.
That single fact explains almost everything odd about how these instruments are made: why one
takes forty to eighty hours of skilled work, why it has to be tuned and rested and tuned again
over weeks, why makers scrap a meaningful proportion of what they start, and why waiting lists
of a year or more are normal rather than a sign of a badly run workshop.
The craft was genuinely closed in the 2000s and has opened up a great deal since, mostly
because deep drawn shells, tuning tools and spectrum analysis software became things you can
simply buy. What has not become buyable is the skill. These pages are honest about that: they
will tell you exactly what the process is, and also that knowing the process is a small
fraction of being able to do it.
Where makers disagree, and they disagree about a lot, particularly shell forming methods and
heat treatment, these pages say so rather than picking a winner.
Contents#
| ID | Question | Level |
|---|
| MAK-01 | How is a handpan made, from flat sheet to finished instrument? | beginner |
| MAK-02 | How are handpan shells formed, and does the method change the result? | intermediate |
| MAK-03 | What is nitriding, and why do makers do it? | intermediate |
| MAK-04 | How are the tone fields laid out on the shell? | intermediate |
| MAK-05 | How is an individual note shaped? | intermediate |
| MAK-06 | Why is a handpan tuned, rested and retuned over and over? | intermediate |
| MAK-07 | How are the two shells joined? | intermediate |
| MAK-08 | How many instruments do makers scrap, and why? | advanced |
| MAK-09 | How long does one handpan take to make? | beginner |
| MAK-10 | What is a tuner actually listening and looking for? | advanced |
| MAK-11 | How do you move the three partials independently with a hammer? | advanced |
| MAK-12 | What tools does a handpan tuner use? | intermediate |
| MAK-13 | Why is tuning so hard to learn, and how long does it take? | advanced |
| MAK-14 | What are “stress relief” and “settling”, and why might a new instrument shift? | intermediate |
| MAK-15 | Can I make my own handpan, and should I? | beginner |
| MAK-16 | What does it realistically take to start making handpans? | intermediate |
| MAK-17 | Are there handpan making courses, and where? | intermediate |
| MAK-18 | Can I make a handpan from a propane tank or gas bottle? | beginner |
| MAK-19 | Is there money in making handpans? | advanced |
| MAK-20 | How do makers learn, given how secretive the craft has been? | advanced |
Files#
See also: Anatomy and construction, Acoustics and physics, Care and maintenance, Business and legal
1 - Becoming a maker
An honest look at what building handpans actually involves: the money, the space, the years, the courses that exist, and whether there is a living in it.
MAK-15Can I make my own handpan, and should I?#
beginner
Short answer. Yes, you can, and people do it every year from kits and bought shells. Whether you should depends entirely on whether you want an instrument or want a craft, because the fastest route to a good handpan is buying one and the route to making one is measured in years.
Be clear with yourself about the goal.
If you want a handpan to play, making one is a bad plan. A first attempt from a bought shell will cost you several hundred in materials, dozens of hours, and will almost certainly produce something with unstable pitches, weak sustain and audible crosstalk. Experienced builders say this plainly. One long standing guide puts it as: you will not have a good sounding handpan, at least not at first. Meanwhile a serviceable factory instrument can be had for a few hundred and a good one for a couple of thousand.
If you want to learn a craft, it is a wonderful one, and there has never been a better time to start. Deep drawn shells are commercially available, tools are sold openly, tuning software exists, and there are more people willing to teach than there were ten years ago. The barrier is no longer secrecy or access to materials. The barrier is the thousands of hours of hand and ear training described in MAK-13.
A middle path many people take: buy a pair of ready made shells, build one instrument end to end, and treat it as an education rather than a product. You will learn more about what a good handpan is than any amount of reading gives you, and you will understand exactly what you are paying for next time you buy. Just budget the money as tuition, not as an instrument.
Things that predict success: prior experience in metalwork, panel beating, silversmithing or especially steelpan tuning; access to someone who will look over your shoulder; patience with delayed feedback; and a workshop you can make noise in. Things that predict failure: expecting a playable result in a weekend, working from YouTube alone, and trying to rush the rest periods.
See also: MAK-16, MAK-18
MAK-16What does it realistically take to start making handpans?#
intermediate
Short answer. A few thousand in tools and materials to begin, a workshop you can hammer in for hours without complaints, access to a heat treatment furnace, and two to five years before you are making instruments worth selling.
Money. The entry cost is lower than most people expect and the ongoing cost is higher. A rough sketch:
- Deep drawn shells from a specialist supplier, sold in top and bottom pairs, are the usual starting point. Budget for several sets, because your first few will not survive.
- Tuning rings and a stand: a complete ring set with hardware is available in the low hundreds of euros.
- Hammers: nylon faced tuning hammers around the tens of euros each, taxi hammers cheaper, plus whatever you use for rough shaping.
- Muting magnets, adhesive (Merbenit HS60 is the trade standard, sold by the tube), abrasives and rust protection: a few hundred to get going.
- Software: LinoTune or an equivalent spectrum analyser.
- Heat treatment: almost nobody starts with their own nitriding furnace. You send shells to a commercial heat treater, which means minimum batch sizes, lead times and a recipe you will spend years refining.
Call it two to five thousand to be properly equipped, plus materials you will scrap.
Space. Handpan making is loud, in a sustained, penetrating way, for hours at a stretch. A shared wall is a problem. You also need somewhere the instrument can rest undisturbed between tuning passes, which means a workshop you are not clearing every weekend.
Time. Not just the forty to eighty hours per instrument, but the calendar. Because of rest periods you cannot compress learning by working harder. You can only work on more instruments in parallel, which multiplies your material cost.
The honest bit. The tools are cheap relative to the skill. Nothing on the list above is what stands between you and a good instrument. What stands between you is the number of tuning hours you have accumulated, and there is no shortcut through that.
See also: MAK-12, MAK-13
MAK-17Are there handpan making courses, and where?#
intermediate
Short answer. Yes, but they are far rarer than playing workshops and they are not usually advertised widely. Most run as small hands on sessions with an established maker, arranged directly, and a short course teaches you the process rather than the skill.
Be careful with search results here. The overwhelming majority of things called a “handpan workshop” or “handpan course” are playing lessons, not building. Building courses exist but you generally find them by asking makers directly, through maker forums, or through supply companies who know who is teaching.
The formats that exist:
One to one or small group sessions with a maker. The most valuable and the hardest to get. Typically a few days to a couple of weeks in someone’s workshop, covering shaping and the beginnings of tuning. Availability comes and goes, since a maker teaching is a maker not building.
Occasional multi day building courses. Run sporadically in Europe and North America, sometimes attached to festivals. Usually you leave with an instrument of some kind and a realistic sense of how far you are from a good one.
Steelpan tuning courses. Genuinely useful and much more established, because Trinidadian steelpan tuning has a longer pedagogical tradition. The physics and much of the hammer technique transfer directly. If you cannot find handpan tuition, this is the best adjacent training available.
Online material. Video series and paid courses exist and can teach the sequence, the vocabulary and the tool list. What they cannot teach is hammer feel, which needs someone watching you.
Mentorship. Still the most common route into the craft, and worth pursuing above any paid course. Makers are more approachable than the community’s reputation for secrecy suggests, particularly if you approach as someone willing to sweep floors and prepare shells rather than someone wanting the recipe.
Because provision changes constantly and courses are often announced only to mailing lists, this page deliberately names no specific course. Ask in maker communities for current offerings rather than trusting an older list.
See also: MAK-20, Community and culture
MAK-18Can I make a handpan from a propane tank or gas bottle?#
beginner
Short answer. You can make a good steel tongue drum from a propane tank, and people have been doing it since the mid 2000s. You cannot make a handpan from one, because the steel is far too thick and the wrong shape for hammered tone fields.
This is one of the most persistent confusions in the hobby, and it comes from a real project: the “hank drum”, made by cutting a propane tank in half and cutting tongues into the top with a jigsaw or plasma cutter. It works, it is genuinely fun, it costs almost nothing, and it produces a pleasant instrument. Dennis Havlena published plans that circulated widely and inspired thousands of builds.
But look at what it actually is. A tongue drum makes pitch by cutting tongues of metal that vibrate as cantilevers, tuned by adjusting tongue length. A handpan makes pitch by hammering a dimpled tone field into a thin dome, tuned by shaping the curvature and border so that three partials line up. They are different instruments with different physics.
Why a gas bottle cannot become a handpan:
- Thickness. Propane cylinder steel is typically two to three millimetres or more. Handpan shells run around one millimetre. You cannot hammer three millimetre steel into tone fields with hand tools, and even if you could, the stiffness would give you almost no sustain.
- Geometry. A cylinder end is not a synclastic shallow dome. The curvature that makes a handpan note work is not there.
- Material and heat treatment. Cylinder steel is not chosen for acoustic properties and has not had the forming and heat treatment history a shell has.
- No tuned harmonics. Even a well made tongue drum generally gives you a fundamental and not the tuned octave and compound fifth stack that gives a handpan its bell like fusion.
So what should you actually build? If you want a cheap, satisfying weekend project that makes real music, build the tongue drum. It is a genuinely good instrument on its own terms and no less legitimate for being cheap. If you want a handpan, buy proper shells. Suppliers sell deep drawn top and bottom sets for exactly this purpose and it is the only sane starting point.
See also: MAK-15, Related instruments
MAK-19Is there money in making handpans?#
advanced
Short answer. There is a modest living for a skilled maker with a reputation and a waiting list, and very little for anyone else. The economics are constrained by the fact that output is capped by hours and scrap rate, not by demand.
Work through the arithmetic honestly.
Revenue is capped by hours. At forty to eighty hours per instrument, a full time solo maker working hard might complete somewhere in the region of twenty five to fifty instruments a year, and many make fewer. Workshops that reach the low hundreds annually do it by adding people, not by going faster. Multiply by a realistic price and you have your ceiling. There is no version of this business where you sell ten times more by working smarter, because the tuning cannot be delegated to unskilled labour or automated.
Costs are not trivial. Shells, heat treatment, adhesive, consumables, tools, workshop rent, shipping (heavy, fragile, international), payment processing, packaging, and the instruments you scrap. Scrap is the quiet killer: if you lose one in eight builds, every finished instrument carries the material and labour of the failures.
Cash flow is awkward. Deposits help, but you are financing weeks of work per instrument, and if a build fails late you have consumed the money and have nothing to deliver.
Competition has intensified. Widely available deep drawn shells lowered the barrier to entry dramatically. Many more makers now exist than a decade ago, at every quality level, and price pressure from high volume workshops is real at the lower end.
What actually works. Makers who do well tend to have some combination of: a distinctive voice people seek out by name; a long waiting list built over years; a second income stream such as retuning, repairs, shell supply, teaching, or selling tools; and low overheads. Retuning other makers’ instruments is an underrated line of business, since it is skilled, quick relative to a build, and demand grows with the installed base.
What does not work. Undercutting on price. You are competing with workshops that have optimised for volume, and racing them to the bottom while doing everything by hand is a losing position.
Nobody sensible enters this craft for the money. People enter it because they want to spend their working life hammering steel into tune, and the good ones eventually make a reasonable living at it.
See also: MAK-08, BIZ-04
MAK-20How do makers learn, given how secretive the craft has been?#
advanced
Short answer. Mostly by reverse engineering, by trial and error over years, and increasingly by mentorship and open sharing. The craft was genuinely closed in the 2000s and has opened up substantially since, though the details that matter most, particularly heat treatment recipes, still stay in the workshop.
The history explains the culture. PANArt developed the Hang from Trinidadian steelpan work and did not publish their methods. When demand vastly exceeded supply in the mid 2000s, people who wanted the instrument and could not get one started trying to build it. That first generation, from around 2007 onwards, largely reverse engineered the instrument from the outside: measuring, listening, guessing at heat treatment, and failing repeatedly. Some had steelpan backgrounds, which helped enormously.
Several things changed after that:
Shells became a product. Once suppliers began selling deep drawn shells, the hardest capital intensive step was available to anyone. This alone probably did more to open the craft than any deliberate sharing.
Tools and software became public. Tuning hammers, rings, stands, magnets and adhesives are now sold openly by supply shops. Spectrum analysis software written for the task is available to anyone.
Forums and communities formed. Handpan.org from 2009 and later Facebook groups gave builders somewhere to compare notes. The general standard of instruments rose noticeably as a result.
Some makers began teaching. Not many, and not systematically, but enough that mentorship is now a realistic path rather than a fantasy.
What remains closed: nitriding and heat treatment recipes, which makers describe as years of refinement and treat as their core intellectual property; note layout templates, which encode enormous accumulated knowledge; and the fine judgement of border work, which is arguably not transmissible in writing anyway.
There is also an unresolved cultural tension. Some makers are open because they think a rising standard helps everyone. Others are guarded, partly to protect a livelihood and partly because of a genuine belief that the craft should be earned rather than downloaded. Both positions have been argued at length in the community for twenty years, and the ongoing legal dispute over the instrument’s design has not made anybody more relaxed about sharing.
See also: MAK-17, History, Rights and trademarks
2 - How handpans are made
The full journey from a flat disc of steel to a tuned instrument: shell forming, heat treatment, note layout, shaping, repeated tuning and final assembly.
MAK-01How is a handpan made, from flat sheet to finished instrument?#
beginner
Short answer. A flat steel disc is formed into a shallow bowl, tone fields are marked and hammered into it, the shell is heat treated, then tuned by hammer over many sessions with rest periods between them, and finally glued to a second bowl that carries the sound hole.
The sequence almost every maker follows, whatever their individual methods:
- Blank. A circular disc of sheet steel, typically somewhere around 0.8 mm to 1.2 mm thick and 45 cm to 60 cm across, is cut or bought ready cut.
- Forming. The disc is turned into a shallow dished bowl, either by hammering it down by hand, by pressing it, by spinning it on a lathe, or by hydroforming it with water pressure. See MAK-02.
- Marking out. The tone field positions are laid out on the top shell, usually from a template the maker has developed over years.
- Rough shaping. Each note gets its dimple and its surrounding border hammered in. This is where the note is born, and it is mostly rough work.
- Heat treatment. The shell is heated and cooled under control. For carbon steel this often means nitriding, a long furnace cycle described in MAK-03. Others anneal, temper or normalise instead.
- Tuning. The maker works each note towards its target frequencies with a hammer, checking constantly against software or a strobe. This takes many passes.
- Resting and retuning. The instrument is put aside for days or weeks, then brought back and corrected. Repeat until it stops moving. See MAK-06.
- Assembly. Top and bottom shells are glued together, the rim is trimmed and finished, and the surface is cleaned and protected. See MAK-07.
- Final check. A last tuning pass after assembly, because joining the shells changes the sound, then playing in, photographing and packing.
Different makers reorder steps 4 to 7 substantially, and some run heat treatment more than once. What almost nobody does is a single linear pass. The instrument goes forwards and backwards through shaping, heating and tuning until it settles.
See also: MAK-09, Anatomy and construction
intermediate
Short answer. Four methods dominate: hand sinking, deep drawing, spinning and hydroforming. They differ mainly in how evenly the steel thins and how much internal stress they leave, and makers argue about whether the audible difference is large or mostly marketing.
Hand sinking is the traditional steelpan approach. The maker hammers the disc down into a dish over thousands of blows, working from the outside in. It thins the metal unevenly, work hardens it, and leaves a distinctive hammered texture. Advocates say the resulting stress pattern gives a warmer, more individual voice. Critics say it makes consistency between instruments almost impossible.
Deep drawing presses the disc into a die in seconds using an industrial press and a blank holder ring. It is by far the most common source of shells today, because it gives very even wall thickness and repeatable geometry. Several specialist suppliers sell deep drawn shells to makers, which is a large part of why the number of handpan makers grew so quickly after about 2010. A maker buying shells is not necessarily cutting corners: the shaping and tuning that follow are still the hard part.
Spinning turns the disc on a lathe while a roller or tool progressively forms it into a bowl. It produces a smooth, even shell and was used by some early makers as an alternative to hand sinking.
Hydroforming uses water or hydraulic pressure to push the sheet against a die or simply into free form. It is gentle and even, and it can be done at surprisingly modest cost. Colin Foulke publicly demonstrated a version using a pressure washer, frames and bolts, which was influential in showing hobbyists that shell forming was not out of reach.
Does it change the sound? Honestly, the forming method matters less than what happens afterwards. Wall thickness distribution and residual stress do affect how a note behaves under the hammer, and a hand sunk shell behaves differently from a drawn one in the tuner’s hands. But two instruments from the same maker on different shell types usually sound more alike than two instruments from different makers on identical shells. Be sceptical of any claim that one forming method is inherently superior.
See also: MAK-01, MAK-03
MAK-03What is nitriding, and why do makers do it?#
intermediate
Short answer. Nitriding is a long, hot furnace treatment that drives nitrogen into the steel, forming hard iron nitrides. It makes the steel stiffer, more corrosion resistant and much better at holding a tuning, at the cost of some brightness and sustain if it is overdone.
The commonest version in handpan making is gas nitriding: the shell sits in a furnace in an ammonia atmosphere, typically somewhere in the region of 490 to 580 degrees Celsius, for anything from a few hours to well over a hundred. The ammonia dissociates and nitrogen diffuses into the surface, forming a hard compound layer and a deeper diffusion zone of needle shaped iron nitrides.
Plasma or ion nitriding does the same job using an electrically excited gas at lower pressure. Makers who have compared the two often report that plasma nitrided instruments come out brighter, with less damping of the high partials, while gas nitriding tends to stiffen and slightly mute the sound.
Three reasons makers bother:
- Rust. Handpans live under salty, acidic human hands. Untreated carbon steel corrodes fast. Nitriding is not stainless, and a nitrided pan will still rust if neglected, but it buys a lot of margin.
- Tuning stability. Steel has a memory. Hammered tone fields want to creep back towards their previous shape. Hardening the metal resists that creep, which is one of the main reasons nitrided instruments hold tune better than untreated ones.
- Tone. The stiffening changes the timbre. Some of the character people associate with a good handpan comes from this treatment rather than from the tuning alone.
The trade off is real. Push the treatment too deep and you get an instrument that is very stable and very dull, with short sustain. Keep it light and you keep brightness but gain little rust protection. Every maker who uses the process describes their furnace recipe (temperature, hold time, gas mix, pressure, single stage or two stage) as something they refined over years, and most will not share it.
PANArt held a patent on an “exhaustive” nitriding method that nitrided through the full sheet thickness rather than just the surface, filed in June 2009 and granted at the EPO in 2014. The European patent was revoked in 2023, and the family lapsed in several jurisdictions from 2020 for non payment of renewal fees.
Going deeper. Nitriding is done after shaping but usually before final tuning, because the hardened steel behaves differently under the hammer and a maker needs to tune the material as it will actually be. Some makers run more than one furnace cycle across a build.
See also: MAK-14, Rust and corrosion
MAK-04How are the tone fields laid out on the shell?#
intermediate
Short answer. The maker marks note positions from a template developed over years, sizing each field to its pitch (bigger and deeper for lower notes) and arranging them so that neighbouring notes are not intervals that will make each other buzz.
Layout is the step that looks trivial and is not. It takes minutes of physical work and years of knowledge, because once the fields are hammered in, the geometry is fixed.
Several things have to be reconciled at once:
Size against pitch. A tone field’s fundamental depends chiefly on its area, the curvature of its dimple, and the stiffness of the border around it. Low notes need large, deep fields; high notes are small and shallow. The lowest note of the scale, the ding, sits in the centre as a dome and behaves differently from the rest.
Fitting the scale on the shell. A nine note instrument on a 53 cm shell has plenty of room. A fourteen note instrument on the same shell does not. Fields have to shrink, borders get thinner, and the maker starts trading sustain and volume for note count. This is a real reason why very high note count instruments are harder to build well and often sound tighter.
Crosstalk. Adjacent fields share the same sheet of steel and couple through it. Put two notes an octave apart side by side and striking one will visibly excite the other. Some coupling is desirable and part of the instrument’s bloom. Too much and you get sympathetic ringing that muddies everything. Makers manage this by choosing where in the circle each pitch sits, by spacing, and by how they shape the borders. Standard handpan layouts, with the scale alternating left and right up the circle, evolved partly for playability and partly because it separates the intervals that fight.
The bottom shell. The gu, the tuned port in the lower shell, is a Helmholtz resonator. Its size and the shell volume set its pitch, and it interacts with the lowest notes.
Makers guard their templates. A template encodes the answers to hundreds of small questions about a particular shell size, steel thickness and scale, and copying one is copying much of the maker’s accumulated work.
See also: MAK-05, Scales and music theory
MAK-05How is an individual note shaped?#
intermediate
Short answer. The maker hammers a shallow concave dimple into the marked area and works a raised border around it, which sets the field’s boundary condition. The dimple and the border together determine the note’s pitch, its overtones and how cleanly it speaks.
Two features do the work.
The dimple is the shallow depression in the centre of the field. Hammering it in stretches and thins that patch of steel, and the resulting curvature and tension set the fundamental. Deeper and wider generally means lower.
The border is the ridge or transition worked around the field’s edge. It is the boundary condition for the vibrating area, and it matters enormously. A well defined border isolates the field, gives a clear pitch and reduces bleed into neighbours. A vague border gives a woolly note that leaks energy sideways. Makers describe border work as having as much effect on the note’s character as the dimple itself.
Rough shaping is done with heavier tools: air hammers, pneumatic hammers, or hand hammers on a form. Some makers use presses or dies for consistency, others insist on hand work because the slight variation from blow to blow gives each note an individual character. Both positions are defensible and both produce good instruments.
At this stage the note is nowhere near in tune. It is roughly the right size, roughly the right shape, and roughly the right pitch. The point is to establish geometry and to get the steel work hardened and stretched into a stable configuration. Everything after this is refinement measured in single cents.
Going deeper. The three main partials respond differently to where the hammer lands. Broadly, work in the centre of the dimple moves the fundamental most, work around the border and the outer parts of the field affects the higher partials more, and work outside the field affects the tension holding everything. This is the lever a tuner uses to move partials independently, and it is covered in MAK-11.
See also: MAK-11, Acoustics and physics
MAK-06Why is a handpan tuned, rested and retuned over and over?#
intermediate
Short answer. Hammering leaves the steel under internal stress, and that stress relaxes over hours and days, pulling the notes off pitch. Tuning, resting so the steel can move, then correcting is the only reliable way to reach a tuning that stays put.
Think of a tuned tone field as a balance of tensions in a thin sheet. Every hammer blow adds local stress. Immediately after a session the instrument can measure perfectly in tune and be lying to you: over the next days the stresses redistribute, the field creeps, and the pitch drifts. Play it hard and you accelerate the same process.
So the workflow is cyclical. A maker will typically:
- tune a pass, getting everything close
- put the instrument aside, from a couple of days to a couple of weeks
- come back and measure what has moved
- correct, often with much lighter hammer work
- rest again
- repeat until a rest period produces almost no movement
Some makers add heat between passes: a controlled bake or anneal that relieves stress deliberately rather than waiting for it to relieve itself. Others tap or play the instrument hard on purpose to provoke movement before the customer can. Either way, the goal is the same, which is to get the steel to do its settling in the workshop instead of in the buyer’s living room.
Amateurs almost always underestimate this. A common piece of advice from experienced builders to beginners is to leave three or four days between heavy tuning sessions and to expect fine tuning done immediately after rough work to be wasted effort.
How many passes? It varies enormously. Some makers report three or four cycles; others take an instrument through many more over weeks or months and treat the wait time as the single biggest difference between a stable instrument and one that drifts within a year. Makers who rush this stage produce pans that measure well on the day of sale and need retuning surprisingly soon.
See also: MAK-14, Tuning stability
MAK-07How are the two shells joined?#
intermediate
Short answer. Almost all modern handpans are glued, not welded, using a flexible industrial adhesive along the rim. Welding is avoided because the heat would ruin the tuning and the rigid joint would damp the instrument.
The two formed shells meet at the rim, and how that joint is made has real acoustic consequences. A rigid joint couples the shells strongly and tends to kill sustain. A joint with some compliance lets the top shell vibrate more freely while still forming the sealed cavity the instrument needs.
The standard solution is a flexible polymer adhesive. One product, Merbenit HS60, has been used widely in the trade for well over a decade and is sold by handpan supply shops alongside shells and tools, which tells you how settled this part of the craft is. The adhesive is run around the rim, the shells are clamped or strapped, and the assembly is left to cure.
Variations you will encounter:
- Rim treatment. After curing, the excess is trimmed and the rim is sanded, filed or polished. Some makers leave a visible glue line; others finish it almost invisibly. This is cosmetic, not acoustic.
- Riveting or bolting. A few builders add mechanical fasteners, usually on larger or unconventional instruments.
- Welded or brazed rims. Rare in handpans, common in some steelpan traditions. It makes later repair and retuning far harder.
- Bolted or removable joints. Occasionally used experimentally so the interior can be accessed, but they tend to buzz.
Joining changes the sound. Sealing the cavity brings the gu resonance into play and slightly shifts the pitches of the notes, particularly the low ones. That is why most makers do a final tuning pass after assembly rather than treating gluing as the last step.
The joint is also a maintenance point. A knock on the rim can crack a glue line, and instruments do occasionally come apart at the seam, usually after impact or extreme heat. It is repairable by a maker.
See also: MAK-01, Parts of a handpan
MAK-08How many instruments do makers scrap, and why?#
advanced
Short answer. Nobody publishes reliable figures, but a loss rate somewhere in the range of roughly one in ten to one in five is often quoted for established makers, and far higher for beginners. Instruments are scrapped for cracks, for notes that will not stabilise, and for tone the maker will not put their name on.
Treat any precise number with suspicion. Makers have no incentive to publish scrap rates, and the figures that circulate come from interviews and blog posts rather than audited data. What is clear is that the rate is high enough to be a major cost driver, and that it falls steeply with experience.
The common causes:
Cracking. Thin steel that has been repeatedly stretched can tear, usually at a border or at the edge of a dimple. Once a tone field cracks it is effectively finished, since the crack changes the boundary condition and will propagate. Cracks are more likely on aggressive shaping, on thin steel, on high note count layouts, and on notes pushed far from the size their pitch wants.
Notes that will not settle. Sometimes a field simply refuses to hold. It goes in tune, rests, drifts, gets corrected, drifts again. At some point the maker decides the steel in that spot is too worked to hold anything and the instrument comes off the bench.
Partials that will not line up. Getting the fundamental right is achievable. Getting the fundamental, octave and compound fifth all right at once, on every note, without wrecking a neighbour, is where builds die. A note where the octave is stubbornly flat while the fundamental is correct may not be fixable.
Aesthetic and tonal rejection. Plenty of scrapped instruments would play. They are scrapped because the maker judges the sustain too short, the timbre uneven across the scale, the crosstalk excessive, or the finish poor. This is a judgement call, and where a maker draws that line is a large part of why prices differ between workshops.
Some makers sell rejected builds as seconds, clearly labelled and heavily discounted. Others destroy them rather than let anything below standard carry their name. Neither approach is wrong, but as a buyer it is worth knowing which one you are dealing with.
See also: MAK-09, Prices and value
MAK-09How long does one handpan take to make?#
beginner
Short answer. Perhaps forty to eighty hours of actual work per instrument for an experienced maker, but spread over weeks or months of calendar time because of the resting periods between tuning passes.
There are two clocks running and people confuse them constantly.
Hands on hours. Forming, shaping, tuning passes, assembly and finishing. Estimates from makers commonly land in the range of forty to eighty hours for a standard instrument, with tuning taking the majority of it. The number climbs sharply for high note count instruments, unusual scales, or anything the maker has not built before.
Calendar time. Because the steel has to rest between tuning sessions, and because heat treatment is often outsourced to a furnace with its own schedule, an instrument that represents fifty working hours may take six weeks to three months to pass through the shop. Makers with long waiting lists are usually not slow at the bench; they are batching instruments through a process with unavoidable waiting built into it.
This explains two things buyers find frustrating. First, waiting lists of six months to two years at well regarded workshops are normal rather than a sign of disorganisation. Second, prices do not fall much with volume, because there is no meaningful economy of scale. Every instrument is shaped and tuned individually by a skilled person, there are no interchangeable parts, and the hardest step cannot be automated. Most respected small workshops turn out something in the low hundreds of instruments a year at most, and many make far fewer.
A useful sanity check when you see a very cheap instrument advertised for immediate dispatch: ask yourself how many hours of skilled tuning the price can possibly contain. Sometimes the answer is that the shell was bought in and the tuning was quick, which can still produce a serviceable instrument. Sometimes the answer is that nobody really tuned it.
See also: MAK-08, MAK-19, Makers and ordering
3 - The tuning craft
What a handpan tuner is actually doing: the partials they chase, the tools they use, why the skill takes years, and why a new instrument can still move.
MAK-10What is a tuner actually listening and looking for?#
advanced
Short answer. Three partials per note, each at its own target frequency, plus the way the note decays, how much it excites its neighbours, and whether the whole scale sounds like one instrument rather than a set of individually correct notes.
Every handpan tone field is tuned to produce at least three related partials: the fundamental, an octave above it, and a compound fifth, which is an octave and a fifth above the fundamental. On a well built instrument these lock together and fuse into a single pitch with a bell like quality. On a badly built one you hear them as separate, slightly out of agreement voices, and the note sounds hollow or sour even when a chromatic tuner says the fundamental is fine.
Do the arithmetic on an eight note instrument plus the ding and you have around twenty seven partials to reconcile, each of which moves when you touch any of the others.
Beyond frequency, the tuner attends to:
Sustain and decay shape. How long the note rings, and whether it decays smoothly or has a lumpy envelope. Over hammered steel goes dead. Under worked steel rings but wanders.
Crosstalk. Strike one note and watch what else speaks. Some sympathetic response is the instrument’s bloom. Excessive response, particularly from a neighbour at an awkward interval, muddies playing and is a defect.
Extraneous partials. Notes often carry additional modes above the main three. A tuner will listen for anything prominent enough to fight the intended sound and try to push it out of the way or damp it through border work.
Evenness across the scale. Volume, timbre and sustain should be consistent as you move round the circle. A scale where three notes bloom and two are thin is a scale where the buyer will avoid two notes forever.
Response to touch. Does the note speak at a whisper as well as at full volume, and does its character hold across dynamics?
The measurable part is the frequencies. The rest is judgement, and it is why two makers with the same software and the same shells produce audibly different instruments.
See also: MAK-11, Acoustics and physics
MAK-11How do you move the three partials independently with a hammer?#
advanced
Short answer. By choosing where on and around the tone field you strike, and from which side. Each partial has a different vibrational mode with different areas of maximum motion, so hammering in a given spot moves some partials a lot and others barely at all.
The physical principle is straightforward. Each partial corresponds to a mode shape with its own pattern of antinodes (where the metal moves most) and nodal lines (where it barely moves). Adding or removing tension in a region affects a partial in proportion to how much that region matters to that partial’s mode. Hit a node for the octave and the octave hardly notices; hit its antinode and it shifts.
In broad terms, and every maker will qualify this:
- Work at or near the centre of the dimple has the strongest effect on the fundamental.
- Work along the long axis versus the short axis of the field separates the octave from the compound fifth, because those two modes are oriented differently across the ellipse.
- Work on the border and the shoulder just outside the field changes the boundary stiffness and tends to move the higher partials more than the fundamental.
- Work from inside the shell pushes the steel outwards and generally raises pitch; work from outside pushes inwards and generally lowers it, though the relationship reverses in places depending on local tension.
That last point is why access matters. A tuner needs to get a hammer inside the shell before assembly, which is one more reason the final assembly happens late and why post assembly retuning is harder and more limited than tuning an open shell.
In practice the tuner is solving a coupled system. Correcting a flat octave will drag the fundamental somewhere. Fixing the fundamental will disturb the compound fifth. The skill is knowing a sequence of small moves that converges rather than oscillating, and knowing when a note is asking for a move that will crack it.
Blows are light and numerous. Estimates of total hammer strikes per instrument in the tens of thousands are commonly quoted, and while nobody counts, the order of magnitude is right: fine tuning is hundreds of taps per note, each worth a fraction of a cent.
See also: MAK-05, MAK-13
intermediate
Short answer. A range of hammers from heavy shaping hammers down to small nylon faced tuning hammers, a tuning stand or ring that supports the shell without damping it, magnets for muting neighbouring notes, and spectrum analysis software that shows several partials at once.
Hammers. Not one hammer but a family of them. Heavy steel or pneumatic hammers for rough shaping and border work. Medium hammers, sometimes called taxi hammers, for coarse tuning. Small hammers with replaceable nylon or plastic heads for fine work, chosen because they move steel gently and do not mark the finish. Supply shops that serve makers sell these as standard stock, with nylon headed tuning hammers and rubber modified tuning sticks priced in the tens of euros.
Tuning stand or rings. The shell has to be supported so it rings freely while the tuner works. The usual solution is a set of rings, often with rubber or padding, on a stand with bolts allowing the height and angle to be set. Support it wrongly and you damp the very partials you are trying to measure.
Muting magnets. Small magnets in a range of sizes, placed on neighbouring tone fields to stop them ringing sympathetically while you measure the note in front of you. Without them a spectrum reading is contaminated by whatever else in the instrument is responding.
Analysis software. This is the tool that changed the craft. Handpan tuners generally use a spectrum analyser or multi channel strobe rather than a single note chromatic tuner, because they need to see the fundamental, octave and compound fifth simultaneously and watch all three respond to a single hammer blow. LinoTune, written by a German programmer for this exact task, is widely used and lets a tuner configure windows for specific partials, including a laser strobe projection so the tuner is not craning at a screen. Others use general purpose analysers, and some experienced tuners still cross check by ear against a reference.
Support kit. Files, sanding and finishing supplies, adhesive for assembly, and access to a heat treatment furnace, usually a specialist’s rather than the maker’s own.
None of this is expensive relative to the skill required. You can buy the whole toolkit for a few thousand and still be years away from producing a saleable instrument.
See also: MAK-16, MAK-10
MAK-13Why is tuning so hard to learn, and how long does it take?#
advanced
Short answer. Because the feedback is delayed, the system is coupled, and mistakes are often unrecoverable. Most people who become competent tuners describe two to five years before they are producing instruments they would sell, and longer before they are consistent.
Four things make it unusually hard to learn.
Delayed and misleading feedback. You hammer, you measure, the note reads correct, and three days later it has moved. That means the signal telling you whether a given technique works arrives days after the action, mixed with the effects of everything else you did in that session. Skills learn slowly under delayed feedback. Compare it to something like woodwork, where a cut is right or wrong immediately.
Coupling. You cannot practise one note in isolation, because working on it changes its neighbours and the overall shell tension. There is no equivalent of practising scales.
Irreversibility. Steel work hardens. Every blow uses up some of the material’s remaining capacity to be moved. A beginner who overshoots and hammers back and forth trying to correct is not returning to the starting point, they are exhausting the steel. Many learning builds die not from one catastrophic mistake but from accumulated over correction.
Cost of each repetition. A guitar maker’s practice piece is wood. A tuner’s practice piece is a shell that costs real money, takes hours to shape, and is scrap at the end. That limits how many repetitions you can afford, which is precisely what a delayed feedback skill needs most of.
On top of this, tuning demands a genuinely unusual combination: metalworking feel, patient ears, an understanding of modal behaviour, and the temperament to spend forty hours on something you may throw away.
Realistic milestones people describe: a first instrument that makes recognisable pitches within months; something a friend would happily play after a year or two; something worth selling after two to five years; consistency across a whole production run after considerably longer. Makers who reached a high standard quickly almost always had either a mentor or a background in steelpan tuning, silversmithing or panel beating.
See also: MAK-20, MAK-15
MAK-14What are “stress relief” and “settling”, and why might a new instrument shift?#
intermediate
Short answer. Hammering locks internal stress into the steel, and that stress gradually relaxes, moving the notes. Stress relief is the deliberate use of heat or time to let that happen in the workshop. Settling is the same process happening slowly in your hands after you take the instrument home.
When you hammer thin steel you do not just change its shape, you leave residual stress in it: regions pulled tight against regions pushed out. That stress state is what holds the tuning, and it is also what wants to change. Over time, and faster under heat, vibration and impact, the stresses redistribute towards a lower energy configuration. The tone fields creep, and the pitches move with them.
Makers manage this in three ways, usually all three at once:
- Time. Rest the instrument between tuning passes and let it move, then correct. Covered in MAK-06.
- Heat. A controlled bake, anneal or temper deliberately relaxes stress rather than waiting. Some makers run a stress relief cycle between tuning passes; others rely on the heat of nitriding to do the same job.
- Hardening. Nitriding stiffens the steel so it resists creep in the first place, which is why nitrided instruments tend to be more stable than untreated carbon steel ones.
What this means for a new owner: a small amount of movement in the first months is normal, not a defect. Typical drift on a properly finished instrument is a few cents on a few notes, often the highest and the lowest, and it usually settles rather than accelerating. Makers differ on how they handle it, and some offer a free first retune within the first year or two for exactly this reason. Worth asking about before you buy.
What is not normal: notes moving by tens of cents, notes that keep moving after the first year, or a note that develops an audible wobble or a doubled sound. Those point at rushed tuning, at damage, or at a field that was pushed too far.
You can help. Do not leave the instrument in a hot car or in direct sun, do not play it with mallets or heavy hands, and do not subject it to temperature shocks. Heat and impact are the two things that accelerate stress redistribution most.
See also: MAK-06, Tuning stability