Rick Toone | Luthier

Untrue Haiku | Justin Masi

PHOTO: 'Untrue Haiku', ink on paper, Justin Masi, 2012.

Laura's brother Justin is a visual artist. His work is populated by fantastical creatures, intricate line detail, and sometimes written text that will cause you to double take.

This past weekend, he had a solo exhibit. Amidst larger, more colorful pieces, this pen & ink drawing whispered.

Been thinking about commissioning Justin to paint a guitar body — maybe on one of the new guitars. I could also envision his art on an album cover, for those of you in the studio.

Movement | Eyes

PHOTOS: I'm just not sure 'S2' is the right name for this guitar. Sinuous curves and bleeding edge tech have elevated it well beyond prototype status. We need an appropriate moniker to express the personality emerging. Suggestions?

The world as I see it during sculpting is a continuous series of rapid eye glances, shape to shape, surface to surface. Comparing, evaluating. Flitting between the model and the work in progress.

Using your eyes in this same way, through this photo sequence, is probably as close as I can get you to being inside my experience...

Grab a rasp.
Blast Alex De Grassi.
Let's make some dust.

Due to the curves of S2's body, looking like it's melting over the side of the table, one of your pictures reminded me of the clocks painting, the persistence of memory, by Dali. Not sure if this helps with a name, but I have a funny feeling it's a step towards a name.

— Blake Rosenthal

Cool updates recently... You asked for some ideas to stir names other than S2 for the production guitar... (Nothing wrong with S2, it is the Strat, evolved.) Here are my two first thoughts. I'm just throwing these out there to stimulate more thought...

1) Your recent photo made me think of Dali's Persistence of Memory Painting... your guitar's "melted" arm carve reminded me of Dali's "melted" watch.

— Steve Sjugg

EDITOR'S NOTE: Proving that there are no coincidences in the Universe...

Fear vs. Love

Every human interaction is either fear, or love.

We are sometimes taught that fear and love are the same thing, but I do not believe that to be true. We may love a god, or a whip, or a drug that we also fear. When you love something that you also fear, that love is a glimpse toward knowing our deepest self, not a blurred distinction between the two concepts.

That balance reveals our motive.

Even seemingly complex situations can be sorted into a series of fear vs. love interactions. Doing so provides clarity, and often helps with understanding motive. You can use this tool to sort relationships as well as experiences you encounter in your own life.

An observation made over time...

Attempts to control are based in fear. When a government or religion or culture or friend or family member tries to control you, it is because they are afraid. Your free will is a potential threat to their world view.

This is because when you make choices that are not choices they would make, you reveal to them the flawed limitations of their own thinking by proving other paths are possible. Absolutely terrifying to someone who has built their entire life around a belief system that something is either 'right' or 'wrong' — because it inevitably forces them to reconsider what is actually safe.

Now hold up a mirror.

(shift)

In contrast, freedom is based in love.

Freedom is an acknowledgement that everyone is fully equipped to make our own best decision. Trust. And sometimes our own best decision is to decide to create limits, to not accept attempts to control.

The beautiful thing is we have the ability to change the outcome of every human interaction we experience. Try gifting freedom.

Moment

Howard Leight MAX earplugs stuffed deep in my skull, L3's wrapped around the outside, it is still blistering. THD Univalve pushes 15 watts of pure Class-A power through a slot-back birch ply loaded with Celestion Classic Lead 80 (UK) and EVM-12L inside this tiny home I call shop.

My ears will ring later, soft shimmer of background whispers.

But in this moment, organic valve roar pulses through my chest, complex waves of vibration rippling and buzzing through my nerves, a snarling whine of overdriven suspended chords, spaced notes screaming in chorus through the air around me. Evaluation, concert volume.

The guitar resonates in sympathetic feedback — slightest touches growling, cascading, responding. Notes blossoming almost before fingertips touch. My left hand gently holding the neck, guiding, the body pressing my own, clinging, hanging. Imagination only could wish to be clever enough to delineate us.

Merge.

The instrument feels integrated. Alive.

When I dig, snap. An elusive synergy has occurred. Steve B found what my ear finally wanted. I climbed for a long time to reach this view.

This necessary, this...vital...aspect of having the machine come back at you with more power than you give it. If you've ever played a single exceptional instrument, you understand what I mean. But repeatable. All of my clients deserve this experience.

For months, some voices have shouted at me: "It's good enough! Ship!"

Fuck off.

The world is plagued with ordinary guitars.