A luthier’s journey through the woods

Two weeks into my guitar building class in Vermont, I realized that a guitar is just a big box with a stick at one end, made of wood - bent, braced, polished and held together by glue! But like any oversimplified truth in life, that description of a guitar hardly gave justice to the beauty of its birth and the wonders of its composition.

Building a guitar “from scratch” with George and Ben at the “Vermont Instruments” workshop was a unique experience for me. I learned to appreciate the properties and qualities of different types of wood beyond their grain, strength and coloring. Choosing the right type of wood is as important to a luthier as choosing the right fabrics is to the tailor. Like for many things in nature, the full beauty of the wood only reveals itself to those who take the time to explore and study it. I also learned that a tool could help or destroy if used properly or incorrectly, and that my hands need to be firm yet gentle. In using tools, one has breath-holding moments, especially for me with some non-forgiving high-speed power tools, and one can enjoy the journey in meditative motions, while gently tapping on a chisel. In making my guitar, each step required different materials, tools, and skills, but at the end, it all came together. I had to remind myself frequently that one should never fight or force one’s own tool. If a process takes too much effort and causes frustration, one is likely making the wrong effort or not using the right tool. Life should be lived that way too. “It is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things”, Thoreau said. I should always remember that whether I am woodworking or dreaming about changing the world.

Planning the work ahead is very important, but so is the absolute concentration on the task at hand. Shortcutting or multi-tasking is a definite path to disaster. No longer can I hope to turn an “Oops!” into a brilliant, creative serendipity, like I have done at times in my paintings. In short, to reach perfection, the task of fine woodworking revolves around many “P” words: planning, preparation, precision, practice, patience, personality, and overall, passion. A passion for perfection itself. Yes, in the final sense, a guitar is just a wooden box attached to a stick and laced with strings. It only comes alive when we put all our heart and skills to bring out the music hidden deep in the wood. Build it to perfection. Then play it, and play it with passion.

Snow fell outside, silently, so pure and so white on these early April days in Vermont. It fell so peacefully over meadows and hills, trees and roofs, as we worked noisily inside our dusty workshop. Snow and dust, dust and snow. Within myself, I became more humble as I coped with the limitations of my skills, the shortcomings of my personal traits, the “P’s” that I lack, as more than once I paid the price for forgetting to follow instructions, and for my clumsiness at the tasks at hand. While in the past I have indulged in defining myself as a self-congratulating scholar or painter, I now consider fine wood working a much more demanding science and occupation. I hold tremendous respect for the artisans and craftsmen of centuries ago who produced infinitely better work with simple basic tools than I could with the high-tech gigs that are available to me today. I am thankful for the masters who are passing the wisdom and skills of this beautiful trade to the next generation. If in an earlier essay, I stated that all I have learned about the world, I learned it in my garden, I can say now that all I’ve learned about myself, I have learned it while building my classical guitar.

Post Mills, Vermont, April 2011