What are short scale guitars and who are they for?

I was in my early 20s, and I was about to begin making my first guitar for several years. I was excited, but at that time, the prospect of making a guitar also seemed like a monumental challenge. Having heard that there was a guitar concert happening in a nearby village, I set off on a winter's evening by train to a village called Stewartby, in search of some inspiration. I definitely found it. The guitarist was Valerie Hartzell. As I listened to her play, I knew I was hearing the full potential of the classical guitar. I could picture what I wanted my own guitars to sound like. It was a game changing concert for me. Unbeknownst to me at the time, it was also my first encounter with a short scale guitar. 

Here Valerie plays her Greg Byers guitar. It can be seen here that a 630mm guitar doesn’t seem noticeably smaller than a 650mm guitar.

Valerie played a 630mm guitar built by an American guitar maker called Greg Byers. Usually guitars have a scale length of 650mm - that’s 650mm from the nut to the saddle - anything shorter than that is considered ‘short-scale’. Since 650 is considered full sized, it may not occur to many guitarists that other options may be more suitable for them. If you consider the wide range of heights and hand sizes amongst men, women and children, it really doesn’t make sense that everyone should use the same size guitar. And as shown by Valerie’s performance, which has inspired me throughout my whole career, it is more than possible to make a real impact with a short scale guitar. 

How many classical guitar sizes are there?

Any scale length is technically possible. 650, as I mentioned, is full sized. 630 is a common length for a short scale guitar, the difference is noticeable but still subtle. A scale length of 610, or more precisely, 613.5, is the length of a full size guitar with a capo at the first fret. In case you are reading this in 2024, my next two guitars, in early Spring, will have a scale length of around 613.5mm, so if you are curious to try such an instrument, don’t hesitate to get in touch. 

Smaller instruments than that are of course possible. I recently watched a guitar orchestra performance; as well as normal guitars, they had massive guitars with their strings tuned an octave lower, and smaller guitars with their strings tuned higher. On the larger side of things, 660mm instruments aren’t uncommon. The largest I’ve tried was 720mm, details of which you can find here: https://www.michaeledgeworthguitars.com/en/blog/a-marvellous-and-historic-instrument

Guitar sizes are particularly confusing because different people use different units of measurement. Here’s a table to simplify things a bit, with the size, an then the corresponding scale length in inches and millimetres:

4/4 (Full size) -650mm - 26”

3/4 - 580mm - 22.8”

1/2 - 535mm - 21”

1/4 - 480mm - 19”

On the design of smaller instruments

There are some difficulties for guitar makers when building a shorter or longer scale instrument; to a degree the whole instrument has to be slightly redesigned. For example, if the scale length is shorter, the guitar’s bridge needs to be closer to the soundhole. That can look strange if the guitar maker isn’t careful. To avoid that looking weird, the guitar’s body needs to be made slightly smaller. Another such adjustment is the bracing. A smaller guitar will need lighter bracing, and higher tension strings. 

One thing that tends to stay the same on a smaller guitar is the width of the fingerboard. On a regular guitar, the fingerboard is 52mm wide at the nut and 62mm at the 12th fret. If the fingerboard is made much narrower than this, the instrument quickly starts to become difficult to play, as the strings are simply too close together. 

I think a huge advantage of handcrafted guitars is that it’s possible to find the ideal instrument for you, something that not only sounds amazing, but fits you like a glove. The scale length of an instrument is definitely a part of that and shouldn’t be overlooked. A skilled guitar maker would be able to make the small adjustments in bracing and design to make a smaller instrument sing, despite the difference in size and string tension. Just as Greg Byers did with Valerie’s instrument. I spoke to Valerie later about her guitar. I remember it as being really powerful! She said that Greg was displaying it at a guitar festival in the US, where she tried it and decided it was the instrument for her. 

Torres, considered the father of the modern classical guitar as we know it, built many smaller instruments. The same for earlier makers, such as Lacote and Panormo. 

What about guitars for children? What size classical/flamenco guitar should I buy for my child?

It can be difficult to find guitars for young guitarists that are made with the same care as full sized instruments. However, with the right instrument, any young guitarist will be far more enthusiastic to pick up the instrument, and avoid any bad habits caused by an unsuitable guitar. 

If possible, the best way to find the right size would be to try out several sizes and see what’s most comfortable for them. In some cases, it’s possible for quite small guitarists to use a 650 or 630mm size instrument. Although the size of a guitar is measured by its ‘scale length’ (the length of the string from nut to saddle), another important factor is the size of the guitar’s body. Too big or small, or too deep, and the guitar can feel awkward and cumbersome to play. 

There are some videos of a young Ana Vidovic playing a full sized guitar when she was very young, and the same with a young Xuefei Yang. On the other hand, I believe Valerie Hartzell told me that she visited the Ramirez workshop when she was a child, with her parents, and they bought a small Ramirez guitar, which she used throughout her childhood.

Classical guitars for adults are often finished with French polish. With kids, it might be a bad idea to use something so delicate, so a lacquer finish would almost certainly be the answer here. 

I remember being about 8 and beginning to learn the violin, and I remember thinking how brilliant the violin itself seemed to me. I had one on loan from my school. It and it’s bow were so beautiful, I really wanted to learn how to play it! I witnessed the same with my two sisters, as they learned the piano and saxophone respectively. The glistening golden shine of a saxophone… it’s very alluring. I think for the same reason, it’s worth getting a guitar of reasonable quality for a young guitarist; something they are drawn to play. If they do grow out of it, they might still keep it forever. I think that Valerie, for example, still has her Ramirez guitar from childhood.

Some of my recent work

Over the past year or so I’ve reached an exciting phase of my guitar making career. The tangible and visible elements of my guitars - such as the aesthetics, workmanship and the different types of polishing - are really coming together, and I’m close to finishing development on my own signature model. Some guitar makers develop their ideal guitar design, and once that’s done, they spend the rest of their career basically building the same guitar over and over, refining it over time. With many guitars you can take one look at the rosette, headstock shape, or even type of finish, and immediately know who built it. I really like this way of working as opposed to building copies of older guitar makers’ work. But best of all, now that I’m satisfied with the tangible considerations such as workmanship, finishing etc, that means even more energy can be put towards the sound, which is the most important thing after all. 

In this post I’ll describe some of my recent work. While I was building these guitars, I was thinking ahead to the design of my signature model. The focus of my attention shifted very firmly towards the sound. I actually took the first of these guitars to a guitar making competition. For that competition guitar, I had a really strict zero tolerance policy towards any aspect of workmanship that I was the slightest bit unhappy about. I re-did any small mistake, and I have kept this practice, and therefore every guitar that leaves the workshop has gone through a vigorous quality control regime. I thought I was a perfectionist before, but the standard is definitely higher now.

Before building these guitars, thinking very much about how to achieve a stronger sounding guitar, I sought advice from some master guitar makers. I visited the now retired Paul Fischer in Oxford with a couple of guitars, as well as Rik Middleton in Coventry, and was able to show a guitar to German luthier Gernot Wagner in a chance meeting in London. So I’ve tried to incorporate some of the principles that they spoke about. I’m really glad to have the hurdle of workmanship out of the way, so I can focus very much on the sound. Crafting sound is something so interesting, mysterious and intangible. When speaking to the guitar makers I mentioned, I got a sense of this mysterious art being passed along. I feel like not many such arts still exist in the modern world, and if they do, they’ve been made partly redundant by modern technology. Happily, this isn’t the case with classical guitars. The guitars I’ll describe below were all made with wood given to me by Rik Middleton. It’s extremely beautiful, aged forever in his workshop, and I did my best to do it justice.

A flamenco guitar, made from spruce and flamed maple:

The design:

For the design of my flamenco guitars, I began by using a plan of a guitar by Santos Hernandez, a brilliant Spanish guitar maker of the 20th century. He used a variety of bracing patterns, but this one uses seven fan braces and no closing bars. Over the years I have continually refined the design, seeking what works best for me and the guitarists I get feedback from. I think the resulting sound is quite sweet, clean, and old-school. Even suitable for some classical players. Guitars of this general design were used when there was less of a distinction between flamenco and classical guitars, so guitars like this particularly tend to suit Spanish music of the early 20th century, as well as flamenco music. For the body shape I used my signature shape. The rosette is handmade by me, the mosaic inspired by a pattern used by Spanish builders such as Ramirez and Gerundino. The headstock shape was inspired by Paul Fischer; although I like it, I have an idea to develop it further, so I think the next guitar’s headstock will be even better. 

The wood 

Flamed Maple - Rik bought the flamed maple for this guitar early in his guitar making career, from a retiring cello maker; maple is also used for the back/sides of the violin family, but the varnish used is darker. Rik used maple from the same set to build his very first guitar, and had kept the rest his whole career. My first two guitars were built using maple too, one with plain maple, and the other with birdseye maple. So I’ve always been a maple fan. Maple is also one of the three woods regularly used by the maker Torres - he mostly used rosewood, cypress, and maple - therefore it has always been considered a very traditional wood for guitars. This is a beautiful set and was a delight to work with. Sometimes, very figured woods like this can be a pain to work with, however for such woods I use a tool called a toothing plane, and then a cabinet scraper, and usually avoid any problems. 

Some snakewood bindings being sawn. A beautiful but difficult wood to work with

Snakewood - For the bindings and some decoration on the headstock I used snakewood. Snakewood is a beautiful wood which grows in some coastal areas in South America. It's not endangered but it’s quite difficult to get in lengths long enough to use for guitar binding. It’s generally a pain to use; it’s very dense and difficult to work; it splits easily making it difficult to bend. Due to these problems it’s only really used in small strips and not for anything structural. I discovered snakewood from looking into Paul Fischer’s work, who used it quite often for binding and decoration. I used three complimentary pieces of snakewood to make up the headstock veneer on this guitar. I also used double strips of snakewood for the binding. This is a touch of workmanship I’ve seen in the work of several high end luthiers, including Paul’s, Gernot Wagner’s, and David Rubio’s. It gives a stronger outline/border to the shape of the guitar.

Ebony - For the fretboard a very black ebony was used. Due to environmental concerns, it’s difficult to find ebony so black. It usually has some grey streaks amongst the black. I did some research last year into the sustainability of guitar woods, and ebony is definitely a wood I want to only buy from verified sustainable sources. The other difficult thing about ebony is that it seems to shrink continually, resulting in protruding fret ends and sometimes cracks alongside the fretboard. Rik had kept this piece of ebony for almost 25 years, and on it had written its weight over time. So it was interesting to see how much water it had lost over time. 

Spruce - Spruce is the wood I’ve used most for the soundboards of my guitars. Soundboards are made with two bookmatched pieces of wood and joined in the middle. This particular example was already joined when I received it. But it had a dark stripe down the centre line, which occurs when the two pieces of the soundboard are very aged even before being joined and they begin to darken around the edges. Although this dark stripe is actually relatively common is guitars and not considered a flaw per se, I decided to unjoin the two pieces, get rid of the darkened section, and then rejoin them.

The golpeador

I’ve detailed how I glue a golpeador here: https://www.michaeledgeworthguitars.com/en/blog/how-i-glue-golpeadors-to-flamenco-guitars . The shape of this golpeador was inspired by the fact that many flamenco players like to rest the thumb of their right hand on the rosette, sometimes gouging into the finish and wood. This one extends over the rosette on that side. Thanks to my method of applying the golpeador, it’s fairly invisible to anyone looking at it from any distance.

The finish

For the back and sides I used a kind of lacquer, and for the soundboard and neck, French polish. Amongst many of the professional players I’ve spoken to, the overall consensus has been that they would prefer French polish for the soundboard, as it’s the thinnest finish and doesn’t impede the vibration of the soundboard, but that something that doesn’t wear so easily would be for more suitable for the back and sides. I don’t like to use lacquer for the neck as well, because then I feel the guitar tends to feel less like wood, and perhaps too ‘plasticky’, so for that reason I French polished the neck. There are a variety of different finishes, all difficult to master. I like using the most suitable finish for particular parts of the guitar, and it also gives me a chance to show off my finishing skills.

A classical guitar, made from spruce and a wood called Palo Escrito:

I will update this picture shortly once I’ve taken pictures of the completed instrument

The design

I have been developing my concert guitar for a while, and the design has gone through many changes. A little over a year ago, I showed luthier Paul Fischer a plan of the bracing pattern I was using at the time. We talked it through together and we made some changes. As I mentioned, around that time I was also in touch with other guitar makers, and the guitar design I have now was greatly influenced by my discussions with them. In my earlier guitars, I got to a point where I could consistently achieve a sweet sound with a good tone, but perhaps lacking in volume and projection. Therefore, I have been aiming for a more powerful guitar but without sacrificing the good qualities in my earlier guitars. The wood itself is quite beautiful on this guitar so I’ve kept the decoration fairly minimalistic, to let the beauty of the wood speak for itself.

The wood

Palo Escrito - Rik mentioned that Palo Escrito might be his favourite wood for its sound properties. It’s also visually stunning; a beautiful golden brown, it’s called ‘Escrito’ because it has grain lines that resemble writing. It’s a type of rosewood. To contrast against the Palo Escrito, I used ebony binding. 

The finish

This guitar has, in theory, the perfect combination of finishes. I have long said that if I were to build a guitar for myself, I would like French polish for the top, lacquer for the back/sides, and oil for the neck. So, I finally carried out my idea on this guitar. I also French polished the headstock. I think this combination of finishes takes into account all sonic, visual and tactile concerns.

Many agree that oiled necks feel amazingly slick. For me, French polish is not only visually the most beautiful, but it’s also probably the best finish for the soundboard as it’s the thinnest. I’ve also spent many years refining my method for applying a particular kind of lacquer; it’s a very tough finish and easy to take care of, so perfect for the back and sides. Every guitar finish has strengths and weaknesses; I think I’ve used each finish in the best way here.

Some upcoming work:

In the coming months, I’ll be completing some exciting work. Two short-scale guitars; they will be very special instruments. One will be my first lattice instrument. Both with spruce soundboards, one will have Indian rosewood back/sides, and the other Pau Ferro. The most brilliant thing is that these soundboards were given to me by Rik, with the rosette and bracing already completed by him. So these guitars are a collaboration. And a chance for me to get a unique insight into his work and learn from his experience. I am ridiculously excited and I look forward to showing him and guitarists in general the finished instruments.

A soon to be completed short scale guitar with lattice, or ‘trellis’, bracing.

What is a handcrafted classical guitar and who are they for?

As far as classical guitars go, handmade reigns supreme, as shown by the fact that just about every professional plays a handmade guitar. This is different to the steel-string or electric guitar world, where factories and big-brands are king. For me and many others, it is one of the most charming things about the classical guitar. But for those newer to the classical guitar, or perhaps asking themselves questions such as, “Am I good enough for a handmade guitar?”, this article is for you.

Looking inside the soundhole of a guitar, you see a label and on that label a name, the name of a man or woman who dedicated perhaps much of their life towards honing the sound of their instruments, and diligently refining their unique aesthetics. That is at least how I felt as a teenager, peering into the soundhole of my grandpa’s old, quite cracked but well loved Harald Petersen guitar; I felt I was holding a small piece of an artist’s work. A piece of art I could hold, play, look at, listen to - experiencing it in many different ways.

The artistry and craft of a classical guitar maker lies not only in the visual aspect, though each maker decorates their guitar uniquely to distinguish their instruments from others, and display their technical ability. It lies not only in the functional aspect - for example how comfortably the neck is shaped - or in the tactile aspect, such as which polish has been used and how well. Many would say the most important aspect is the sound, and partly I would agree; each guitar maker chases their individual idea of the perfect sound, refining their unique sound throughout their career. But I would really say that the best guitars bring all these aspects together and that this is the aim of the handmade guitar. But there is also an additional element; it would be better to say that the aim is to bring all these elements together, in a way best for that particular customer, as the maker and guitarist can correspond during the building process or perhaps just know each other anyway.

This aim is for the most part quite beyond classical guitars built in a factory. Part of the reason is that every single piece of wood is different and needs to be treated differently. The properties of each piece of wood can vary from piece to pieces, even when cut from the same tree. This is particularly true of wood for the soundboard on a classical guitar, which influences the sound most of all. Factories, due to the demands of mass-production, build every instrument exactly the same, despite variations in wood. Not only that but the priorities of factories don’t necessarily correspond with what is best for a great classical guitar. Priorities such as needing to limit returns and repairs, therefore building for robust instruments, and prioritising speed, so finishes like French polish are usually out of the question. This situation is unique to classical guitars, mostly arising from the fact that it’s a difficult job to make a classical guitar sound really good. It’s much easier to build a bad sounding classical than a bad sounding steel-string. Conversely, the priorities of factories and players of steel-string/electric guitars, usually more or less align, therefore factory guitars remain popular with those players.

Classical players choose their guitar maker by a number of factors. Perhaps the guitarist is initially drawn in by the aesthetic style and craftsmanship of a particular maker, and the aesthetic details. Maybe a maker has a particularly brilliant signature sound. Perhaps a guitarist has gotten to know a maker and likes his ideas. 

Let’s zoom in on some of these different details. Firstly, the craftsmanship. Often, classical guitar makers, apart from putting their name on the label inside the soundhole, will distinguish their guitars by decorating them in a recognizable manner/style. There is limited scope to do this, since the guitar is a classical instrument and not much in the design can be changed. However, if you look at the headstock, here the maker distinguishes himself with a unique design. It has to be unique, something he has thought up himself; it is actually considered poor form to copy someone else's design here. Therefore, you can usually recognise a guitar maker by their headstock design. There is also the rosette, the pattern around the soundhole. There are guitar makers who make every rosette unique and different; others buy the rosette; but there are some that create a distinctive design here and use the same design on each guitar. Growing up, I always loved the Paul Fischer rosette (a guitar maker from Oxford, UK. A maker with a distinctive rosette today is Philip Woodfield. I personally like it when you can distinguish a guitar’s maker by the rosette design. It somehow ties together their whole body of work. Some makers also decorate the tie block on the bridge with a pattern corresponding with or complimenting the rosette. If you look at guitars throughout the careers of many makers, often at first the design varies, then as they mature they begin to build essentially the same instrument design over and over, as they fine tune their ideal design.

Aside from the aesthetic design choices, there is also the level of workmanship. I think the best makers are very exacting in their workmanship. The workmanship represents the guitar maker’s pride in his work. I think with the best guitars, the closer you look, the better it gets; rather than the opposite with guitars with poor workmanship.

Secondly, the sound. There is such variety in sound with classical guitars, it is a truly brilliant situation! A small anecdote: years ago, I attended a violin making competition in Malta. Some of the judges lamented the fact that all the violins there essentially sounded the same; this is because violin players and makers idolise Stradivarius and Gueneri violins, and achieving that same sound has become an art. The situation is so different with guitars. There are fan braced guitars of many different varieties; fan bracing is what we consider traditional bracing. Newer innovations are common such as double top guitars and lattice braced guitars, and such designs are ever being refined. Older types of bracing exist too, such as ladder bracing, from the 18th and 19th century. Within each type of bracing, many sound-worlds exist. Some of these sound-worlds become associated with particular guitar makers. For example, a guitar maker who lived in 20th century Paris named Robert Bouchet, inspired by a 19th century guitar he had, began to brace his instruments with a cross brace under the bridge, giving his guitars a distinctive sound which became very famous. That type of cross brace is now known as a ‘Bouchet bar’. 

The sound is the real meat of the matter when it comes to the classical guitar. Personally, I think a classical guitar maker will have long mastered the craftsmanship aspect of guitar making before he masters the sound. Often when guitarists try out a guitar, the sound is really the thing they pay attention to. A louder guitar, sweeter, more colourful, bassier, responsive, dry, crisp. A guitar maker plots his course in this deep forest of sounds. The guitarist must go into that forest too, and in there find the guitar maker most suited to him. 

Finally there is the aspect of collaboration between maker and guitarist. Although often the best results can be achieved when a guitar maker is left to build his signature design, sometimes two people can come together and create something better than one person could ever do alone; two people inspiring each other

With that background covered about what a handmade classical guitar is, we can answer the question about who they are for. The answer is that they are for many groups of people. There are musicians who like to enrich their lives by playing the classical guitar as a hobby; there are professional touring musicians, students, teachers. For some players the handmade guitar is a luxury, a feast for the senses, and in a way I actually think it is this group of players who most appreciate the classical guitar maker's art. For professional classical guitarists and serious students, it is essential for them to have a guitar that doesn’t limit them. Just as long ago a warrior might prefer to go into battle with a well crafted and sharpened sword, the professional musician needs a serious instrument too. For them, the handcrafted guitar is not just a luxury, but an essential tool. Once a player has discovered the vast range of sounds possible with handmade guitars, it is difficult to return to worse instruments. As a player progresses and grows as a musician, they might notice limitations in their instruments that they weren’t able to perceive initially. I would think when that happens that they are ready for something better. A guitar can seem limiting for any number of reasons, soundwise, visually, or due to functional issues such as neck shape or intonation. 

This blog post has me thinking of many of the guitar makers through the ages whose different sounds and designs I admire greatly. I think if we were to ask them, who their guitars are suitable for, they would agree that if you will play the guitar, enjoy it and take care of it, then you are ready for a handmade guitar.

Constantly improving the guitars

I've been thinking about the subject of constantly improving as a guitar maker. This line of thought was prompted by a podcast I listened to recently, in which a guitarist talked about her journey of improving as a guitarist, attending conservatories, masterclasses and competitions etc and she spoke a lot about receiving feedback. I noticed many parallels to my career making guitars, and I guess it's similar for anyone trying to master an art/craft. 

An upcoming guitar, currently being polished

Seeking out and interpreting feedback is an important part of making guitars. There are several different sources of feedback, each with different priorities and backgrounds, providing different and useful viewpoints. I have sought feedback from other guitar makers, guitar players - both amateur and professional - as well as guitar shops/dealers. For me, and I'm sure the same is true for many artists and musicians, I'm my harshest critic.

I think a good first step to improving at any skill is to have a clear picture of what you're aiming for. I think this is one reason guitar making is quite difficult, because the main goal is the sound, which is something intangible and quite subjective. Other goals in guitar making are easier to imagine, such as having excellent workmanship and varnishing skills, building up a collection of good quality, seasoned woods, creating an aesthetically good looking design/personal style of working etc. But the sound is definitely the most important and alluring aspect. Eventually, all other elements, workmanship, design, playability etc will or should be mastered and all that remains to focus on is the sound. If you track a guitar maker's career, in the early years the design/bracing of their guitars will probably vary quite considerably, but as they mature they will probably find the general sound they are looking for, and focus on one or two designs, fine tuning their sound for the majority of their career.

Feedback from players, makers and dealers is important, and from each group it's different. A good player can really put a guitar through its paces and say if they like it or not, and whether or not there's something lacking. Sometimes a guitarist won't like something, but won't be able to say why. Sometimes they’ll say a guitar is good, in order to be polite, but they're clearly not feeling it. This is why I consider interpreting feedback to be a sort of art. For example, a player might think the action is too high, when really the neck is poorly shaped and uncomfortable, so it's the job of the guitar maker to find out what the real cause of the problem is. Regarding sound it should be borne in mind that a player's ear might be tuned to whatever guitar they already have. Naturally, learning from other guitar makers is crucial because they can not only point out issues, but give real, practical solutions and advice on how to obtain a better sound. It is also interesting to get feedback from guitar dealers, because they see so many guitars, and therefore likely have their ear well tuned in, they can give hopefully accurate assessment of a guitar maker's guitar, and notice the fine details to be improved.

Having a well tuned-in ear is really important as a guitar maker. I’ve found it difficult to do in the past, as most of the work is in the workshop at the workbench, but activities such as going to guitar societies, concerts, going to a guitar shop/dealer and trying lots of guitars, have proved crucial for getting my ear attuned to what a good guitar sounds like, what the possibilities of the guitar are and what I want my guitars to sound like. I went to a guitar society meeting a few months ago, and enjoyed discovering the sound of a particular Christopher Dean guitar. It was a deep, large, luxurious sound. Although I don't want to emulate that sound on my own guitars, I did really like it and it slightly expanded my understanding of the sound of the classical guitar. When I went to a guitar making competition last summer, some of the guitars, in terms of volume, power and protection, exceeded what I thought was possible with traditional bracing. Another option for a guitar maker would be to find a guitar with an undoubtedly excellent sound, keep that guitar in the workshop and use it as a reference point.  

The possibilities of the guitar’s sound are really vast even within the realms of traditional bracing, let alone lattice braced guitars, double top guitars and other potential future innovations. My upcoming guitar which is being polished now, is borne out of a meeting with guitar maker Paul Fischer. Over a year ago now, I showed him a guitar as well as a plan of the bracing. We talked it through together and agreed on some changes. I'm really looking forward to hearing this guitar. And so the guitar making journey and quest to find the ideal sound continues.

Finalist in the Antonio Marin Montero Guitar Making Competition, in Granada, Spain and recalling two other competitions

Recently I was a finalist in an international guitar making competition, in Granada, Spain. I've been to several guitar making competitions over the years. Usually, people are surprised to hear that guitar making competitions exist, but a tradition of such competitions permeates through the history of the instrument making crafts. On the labels of many older guitar makers, are often illustrations of medals they’ve won at such competitions. At such an event, guitar makers will bring their best work, probably built at some point over the previous year. The guitars are then judged, usually by playing the same pieces on each guitar and comparing them, over several days. 

I attended two guitar making competitions as a very new guitar maker and one more recently. I think new guitar makers often seek out competitions as a form of affirmation and encouragement for the work they're doing. I think I had the right attitude - that I was there to learn, improve and soak up as much information as possible -  and I did indeed learn a great deal. 

The first competition I went to was in Malta. Funnily enough, it was mostly a violin making competition although with a category for guitars too. I took one of my first guitars. I got a bronze medal for it, and it was overall a good experience. More than anything I enjoyed meeting the other instrument makers there, particularly the violin makers. I was in my early twenties and a beginner. Whereas they were mostly young professionals in their late twenties/early thirties, from all around the world. It was interesting to see their ambition, their craftsmanship. I liked the professional way they presented themselves. I was particularly impressed by one violin maker who had made and brought with him a whole string quartet to be judged. I recall having a pizza dinner with a group of Italian violin makers and occasionally drop by their Instagram to see their latest violins.

Shortly after that competition in Malta, I went to one in Granada, Spain. This competition was a real game changer for me as a guitar maker. I got to discover Granada, the home of the guitar, see flamenco performances, discover Spanish culture, observe the high level of the guitars by other makers, and speak to guitar makers from all around the world. The standard of guitars there was truly incredibly high. I enjoyed a long conversation with one of the judges Yuris Zeltins, in which apart from many insights into and tips about the guitar making world, he also spoke about how crazy people are who want to make guitars, and also about how he was getting old and mortality in general. I also enjoyed meeting John Ray, whose blog on guitar making I enjoyed reading. On departing Spain after that competition, I resolved to work hard and raise the standard of my guitars up and beyond what I'd seen in Spain, and perhaps one day come back and present a guitar I’d be truly proud of.

Finally, years later, this summer, I returned to that competition in Granada. It's called the Antonio Marin Montero Competition by the way. I’m pleased to say that I was completely delighted with the instrument, and it reached the finals. I was happy with this result and again I learned a great deal from the experience. In Granada, there is a great community of master guitar makers. A situation very different to the UK, where everyone is quite spread out. It was great to be among those makers for a short time and hope I can incorporate all I've learnt there into my future guitars.

A Flamenco Guitar Show in Prague, at Cafe Lajka with guitarists Filip Zubák, Kamil Ďurana and Anička Heldenburg

Recently I went on a mission to Prague to discover the classical/flamenco guitar culture of another country. In the modern age it feels like the whole world is within reach. Planning this trip, I found concerts on four back to back nights in Prague, a Štěpán Rak concert, a guitar orchestra, and then two flamenco performances. So I took a guitar and set off. The most interesting concert to describe is the last one I went to, so I will focus on that in this post. 

Some background I already knew about the Czech Republic before the trip, regarding guitars, is that they have schools there called “umělecké školy”/”art schools where every child learns an instrument from a young age. Then they have about 15 conservatoires and several more music universities. Therefore, there is an ever emerging crop of talented musicians. However, they only have a few guitar makers and don't have any shops which stock hand made guitars. So it seems like there is less of a culture of handmade instruments than in the UK. I wasn't sure whether this indicated a gap in the market or a lack of demand.

Cafe Lajka

The last concert I went to was a flamenco concert. I was excited because the guitar I'd brought with me was a flamenco guitar, and there would be three guitarists there, as well as three dancers and a singer. I had been in Prague long enough at that point to be used to the trams and the metro, and I travelled easily across the city to Cafe Lajka, where this performance was to take place. On that night the temperature was to reach a chilly -12 and the pavements were completely covered in ice, a thick layer of frozen snow. Café Lajka was a trendy looking cafe/brewery, and had an intimate second room where the flamenco show was held. 

The intimate feel of the room reminded me of the first flamenco show I ever went to, in a bar in Valencia. Here in Prague, I was sitting in the back corner next to a piano and I had invited a friend along with me. I don't know what I had been expecting from the flamenco show, but what I discovered was something so unbelievably authentic, with such a high level of every element, that I felt as if I was in Spain. I think the rest of the Czech audience must have been as blown away as I was.

The guitarists clearly had a great passion for flamenco guitar. There was a player, Filip Zubák, who was a real virtuoso. He had a solo Granaina which was really beautiful. I will be watching out for his work in future. I spoke to him after the concert and he mentioned he was studying at a conservatoire in Prague and in his final year, or just completed his final year. I didn't catch everything he said, as my Czech is fairly bad. The second and also enormously talented guitarist was Kamil Ďurana, who also teaches flamenco and plays a flamenco guitar by a Czech luthier Petr Vančata, which was interesting to see and hear. The final guitarist was Anička Heldenburg. She opened the concert and also joined in again later on. She played beautifully and I hope the future has lots more guitar playing in store for her, as she not only plays brilliantly, but is only 10 years old. I suspect she may be one of Kamil’s students, and maybe goes to one of those “umělecké školy”. I was able to speak to Anička’s mum after the concert, and Anička tried my flamenco guitar.

What a lovely experience. The whole performance had an energy to it that makes me really hope to see them even though they're all the way in Prague. 

As at this concert, sometimes I bring along a guitar to things like this to show the guitarists my work, or anyone interested in the audience. This is quite an art. Every time I do it, I think of the guitar maker David Rubio. When I started studying guitar making, I read Paul Fisher's book called Let the Wood Speak, and later met Paul Fischer in person, and in both cases he described David Rubio’s ability to confidently talk about, showcase, and sell his instruments. When I go to such events I try to channel my inner Rubio. This time it was made much easier by having a second person with me.

I had wished for snow before travelling to Prague and Prague certainly delivered. It proved an interesting challenge to juggle the humidity and temperature, while looking after the guitar and all the while trying not to slip over on the ice! The other concerts proved interesting too. After the guitar orchestra, I was able to speak with a few guitarists. It was difficult to just turn up and show my guitar to everyone unannounced (I only spoke to a couple of guitarists - I think David Rubio would have managed better!). However, the guitarists I spoke to gave me some feedback on the guitar, and I got some information on where Czech guitarists usually buy their instruments. 

My Czech friend and I met up with another Czech language learner, one who lives in Prague. One of the things she said regarding Czech culture is that the more “underground” something is, the more Czechs seem to be interested in it. Hopefully, the idea of a guitar maker from distant England is romantic and underground enough, that one day I might be able to get some of my guitars into Czech hands. 

Listening to audiobooks while working

When I first started building guitars, I discovered a life-hack which allowed me to work more hours without feeling particularly tired or bored, and would make me feel excited to get up in the morning for work. This was listening to audiobooks while working. It is probably a life hack only applicable to certain types of work, but I imagine it could be useful for an artist, perhaps a guitarist practising their technique, particular tasks in any job which don’t require too much problem solving, or just anyone who can divide their attention between two things. Somehow my brain can’t manage to listen and build guitars these days, but I did it for several years and think back fondly on my audiobook days.

I found that there were certain criteria as to what makes an audiobook suitable to listen to while working. One is the length; if you’re going to be listening regularly while working, or perhaps running or driving, you’ll be burning through audiobooks quite fast. If you choose short books, you might be having to choose a new audiobook everyday, and would be faced with the dreaded post-book blues more often than necessary! Therefore long books are better, or a long series. Another thing to watch out for is the style/structure of writing; constant large leaps in time, geographical location or constant introductions of new point-of-view characters, tends to make the mind wander. And the pacing is important too; slower is better as having a chaotic action book would tend to be more distracting than helpful while working. If this sounds like a suitable like hack to you, here are some audiobooks to get started.

1. In Search of Lost Time by Marcel Proust - For me, this is the ultimate audiobook to listen to while working. In fact, it might be the only way to read this book. It’s extremely huge, and the plot almost non-existent, however it’s made up of gloriously constructed sentences and ridiculously on-point observations about people, humanity and the world in general. It was recommended to me by my brother, whom at one time I would constantly be asking for the next audiobook recommendation, “and it has to be long, please!” He didn't let me down, this is like the longest book ever, and made me look forward to work every day for a long time.

2. The Musketeers Books and The Count of Monte Cristo - The Musketeers books follow the whole working life of the musketeer d’Artagnan. The author had a gift for the dramatic. He had a knack for building tension in his scenes, often in a funny or dramatic way, and the payoff would always be brilliant. The series is long and it is apparent the author also has a gift for ‘form’ in writing; the overarching story arch and development of each character over their lives is so brilliantly thought out. I loved how the main characters of this story weren’t really heroes, and the villains weren’t really villains; everyone was grey as in real life.

3. The James Bond books by Ian Fleming - These are short entertaining books, each could be listened to in a day. They are well written and certain scenes have stuck in my mind after many years. My favourite stories were Moonraker in which I discovered a tenderer side to Bond, and You Only Live Twice, in which Bond is on a mission for revenge in Japan. The series is outdated, in that the main character Bond is an Englishman from the 50s and sometimes you can really tell, but the books are fun to read and I would recommend them.

4. Terry Pratchett’s Discworld - These are the books that taught me it's completely OK to not be completely normal. Terry Pratchett created a huge cast of weird, ugly but fantastic characters and the books contain brilliant insights about people and the world, often in a humorous light. These books are short enough that I could listen to one in a couple of days. But there are almost 40 discworld books, so plenty of material, and time to watch the various characters grow, or not, over time.

5. The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson - This is a great book to listen to. It's so long, probably around 60 hours, with a number of sequels. And the prose is fairly simple, with not so many POV characters that it gets distracting. It's so easy to listen to and entertaining. It’s fantasy, so you can get lost in a completely new world. Somehow, the way it's written, it sometimes feels like an anime. With Brandon Sanderson books, you always get an amazing climax, but in The Way of Kings, it's particularly good.

About a film, Bakemono, by Tristan Nelson

A rare blog post that isn’t solely about guitars. Here is a newly released short film by a very talented fellow Bedford-based creator called Tristan Nelson. It’s a powerful film about parental love. The overall style and feel of the film, including the score which I love, feels extremely refreshing; watching it is like reading a good poem, it feels like balm for the brain. 

Having for a few years felt tired of blockbusters and Netflix series that I would previously binge like empty calories, I eventually discovered the filmmakers Kurosawa and Tarkovsky, who were more thought provoking and somehow left more to the imagination. In this film, Bakemono, much about a father and son’s relationship is left unsaid. It’s definitely sad and and the main character relatable. I’d absolutely recommend watching it.

A few years back, I actually made a guitar for the creator of this film. I had been building guitars several years at this point but only just starting to build guitars that I was really happy with. With this guitar, everything seemed to come together and it was perhaps the first time I experienced the great sense of pride in creating a guitar I had no reservations about. 

A great experience but also quite confusing, as the guitar was a steel-string and my interest lay solely in classicals and flamencos. I had toiled for years to learn to build the finest classical guitars, only for my work to culminate in this great steel string guitar! I think now that I was just a lot more critical regarding my classical and flamenco guitars. I cared more about them, and knew more about what I want to achieve. Happily, since that time, I have gone on to build many classical and flamenco guitars where I’ve gotten that great feeling of pride of a job masterfully done, and these days it comes with every guitar.

Back to Tristan, he also created a great short film called Moments about four years ago which I recommend too. You can find his work on his website: lovecabinfilms.co.uk

Thoughts on bracing, soundboard material, and letting the wood speak

When I was thirteen or fourteen and started developing an interest in guitar making, I was actually originally more interested in making electric guitars and basses. Basses fascinated me in particular, firstly because I played the bass really well, and secondly the unplugged tone of the bass was so beautiful to me, but what I really loved was how much the different woods seemed to affect the tone. I was however drawn away from that path, when I first glimpsed the inside of a classical guitar and beheld the mysterious bracing within. 

Regarding the classical guitar, it’s widely held that the soundboard along with its bracing is the most important part of the instrument. A famous guitar maker Torres once made a guitar with paper mache back and sides, perhaps to illustrate this point. Although the back and sides do have some effect on the sound, I would agree that the soundboard is where the magic happens, or in the case of overbuilt and underbuilt guitars, where it doesn’t.

From the beginning of my guitar making journey I experimented with different bracing patterns. I initially followed the guitar making book Making Master Guitars, in which there were a number of plans based on famous guitars, and for my first two guitars I followed a Romanillos plan. Then I built the next four guitars simultaneously, following the plans for a Bouchet guitar, a Fleta, a Santos Hernandez and a Torres. Such experimentation continued and although a case could be made for sticking to one plan in the beginning, I feel the variety has helped me understand the guitar as a whole. At this early stage, I carried out an interesting exercise, pushing the boundaries in terms of how thick or thin the plates of a guitar could be made.

I’ve read somewhere that it’s after 100 guitars, that a guitar maker starts to feel really in control. Based on my experience, I certainly think about things quite differently now than I did in the beginning. The biggest flaw in my thinking in the beginning was my lack of understanding of the wood itself. I sought to understand how the different bracing patterns and dimensions affect the final sound, without understanding that the properties of each brace - each piece of wood, every soundboard, even from the same tree, let alone species - can vary drastically. So now I work with a much greater respect and consideration towards the wood itself than before.

What did help me was a manual written by a guitar maker called Daniel Friedrich. This manual seemed intended for the intermediate guitar maker, and contained a series or tests that could be carried out during the production of a guitar, measuring the qualities, weights, and deflection strengths of each piece of wood. Some makers have been able to develop a sense for the qualities of wood, and carry out these tests by feel, with their hands. I believe I’ve read that Antonio Torres and Robert Bouchet were such makers, and probably many others. I have also been helped by the advice of various guitar makers. I was able to meet luthier Gernot Wagner once while at London Guitar Studio, where he explained his overall rationale regarding soundboards, and how his thoughts regarding reducing the weight of the soundboard led to him inventing the double top guitar. Throughout my building journey, I‘ve had the phrase, ‘Let the Wood Speak’ in my head, which is a saying from luthier Paul Fischer, and I last year had the opportunity to speak to him on the subject of bracing too. Recently, I was given two completed soundboards by luthier Rik Middleton to study, and build the rest of the guitar.

So far I have mostly worked with spruce soundboards, and some in western red cedar. There are so many bracing patterns in the guitar world and so many styles of construction, so many luthiers pushing to achieve the best sound, that it can be hard to choose a clear direction to go regarding sound. However, with my past experience and the advice of various master makers, as well as constant feedback from players and dealers, I feel confident about the future.

Sustainability and ethics in guitar making

I’ve been thinking about sustainability in guitar making recently because as I’m at the point in my career where the designs of my guitars are being honed closer to their final state, I’m therefore looking towards building faster, building these same designs again and again; that means buying more wood and on a more regular basis. Before I embark on this next stage, I need to get my ducks in a row regarding where to responsibly source wood, and figure out what my position on the matter of the environment is. It’s quite easy for a guitar maker to not think about these things, and particularly ordering wood online, it feels like it pops out of thin air and sometimes you don’t consider where it comes from. Often, tonewood suppliers don’t list where they have sourced the wood.

Fortunately, this year I read a fantastic book called ‘The Guitar: Tracing the Wood back to the Tree’ by Chris Gibson and Andrew Warren - a brilliant and easy read, I recommend it strongly. It went into particular detail regarding woods used for steel string guitars and by guitar factories.

One might argue that the impact a single guitar maker has in terms of trees cut down is negligible. However, the guitar is such an important, popular, cultural symbol worldwide, that guitar makers are in a position where they can call more attention to environmental problems, because so many people are interested in guitars. Furthermore, I think a buyer would definitely be disappointed if he/she discovered the materials used for his guitar were not sourced carefully and ethically, or if perhaps the guitar maker didn’t know where the materials came from. Wood is something special and precious, taken from a magnificent tree that perhaps took hundreds of years to grow, then transported thousands of miles; I feel if a maker can convey this to the buyer they will cherish their guitar all the more.

The standard woods used for the classical guitar today are Indian rosewood, maple, cypress spruce, western red cedar, Spanish cedar and ebony, as well as a variety of other tropical hardwoods for the backs and sides. Brazilian rosewood used to be the wood for back and sides, but as the forests in Brazil were decimated and all the old growth Brazilian rosewood is practically gone, its use was banned by an international organisation called CITES. Guitar makers now use Indian rosewood instead, which due to its felling and processing being carefully controlled by the Indian government, is more sustainable. Indian rosewood is grown in plantations and only a certain number of trees are allowed to be cut, processed and sold each year. 

Ebony, the jet black wood used for fingerboards, is an terribly endangered wood mainly grown in Cameroon in Africa. Also the situation around its felling seems so chaotic. It’s difficult wood to replace, but I have found one source which looks reliably sustainable, which is an ebony plantation founded by Bob Taylor of Taylor Guitars (Bob Taylor is a figure in the guitar industry who is particularly forward thinking regarding sustainability and tonewoods), and co owned by tonewood supplier Madinter. There is also a UK brand called Rocklite offering eco-friendly man made alternatives to ebony and rosewood, for things like bindings, fretboards and bridges.

Some UK luthiers also advocate the use of native tonewoods; such woods include maple, yew, walnut, poplar, beech, birch, eucalyptus and more. As many of these trees/timbers are not usually cut to guitar dimensions, and not on a large scale, it can be difficult to find these timbers to build with and when you find it, the wood available is often not up to guitar standard. However, I have seen some sets of native woods, particularly walnut, birch, apple, maple, that are truly stunning, and I would love to use them on a regular basis. Unfortunately, often when trees are felled in the UK, they are simply destroyed no matter how great their potential for musical instruments might be. There are some small companies who rescue such trees and turn them into usable wood. One excellent example is a business called Conway Tonewoods; the quality of the native woods there is sometimes stunning, showing that ‘built with local timber’ doesn’t necessarily mean 'built with lesser timber’. I hope such businesses spread and suitable native woods are used more often. Another similar option is to use reclaimed woods, for example wood taken from large old furniture.

English Yew Tree

Extremely usefully, a study has been carried out over the past 15 years, called the Leonardo Guitar Project; a study showing the suitability (or non-suitability) of different non-tropical woods for the different parts of the guitar. This study was carried out scientifically and many luthiers took part as well as two guitar making schools. The results serve as an excellent foundation for any guitar maker looking to move away from tropical woods, because that initial period of uncertainty and experimentation when using new woods, is already completed by this study. 

I have noticed that British guitar makers are quite forward thinking in their use of tonewoods. When Paul Fischer was at the start of his career, he got a Winston Churchill fellowship to travel to Brazil, to try to find alternatives to Brazilian Rosewood. Guitar maker Kevin Aram often uses native wood, and often fells the trees and has the wood processed himself. Gary Southwell often uses relatively recently discovered native timber called Bog Oak. One of my old teachers, Adrian Lucas, often uses reclaimed timber. So young guitar makers in the UK, like me, have excellent examples to follow, and I think this has also resulted in customers also being open to woods other than those considered traditional. It’s something I really like about the guitar, compared to for example the violin. There is room for change, and development and expression in the guitar world.

It’s difficult to form a definite conclusion to this blog post at this point, as the wood industry really seems so chaotic, and what I’d really like to do is visit some countries and their sawmills, and see the different situations in person. For now, when I do use tropical timbers, I will favour tonewood suppliers who are most transparent where it’s sourced, and will keep my eye out for native timbers of high quality too.

Tunbridge Ware Marquetry

An excellent example of Tunbridge Ware, displaying the typical autumn colours/theme

Recently, I discovered an old, forgotten, practically extinct craft called Tunbridge ware. I can’t remember the exact moment of discovery or how it came about, but I was immediately very excited about it and thought about how I could perhaps incorporate similar ideas into my own work. 

Tunbridge ware is a type of marquetry. Marquetry is lots of tiny pieces of wood glue together, arranged to form a pattern or picture. In classical guitar making, we make our own rosettes with mosaic marquetry, often depicting floral or geometric patterns, and we also create patterns such as herringbone. Often there is marquetry on the tie block on the bridge, and occasionally on the headstock and back strip. Marquetry is time consuming and needs to be tastefully done. Although the aesthetic restrictions of the guitar seem free when compared to the violin world, there are actually quite strict limits of what is acceptable in terms of dimensions and decoration on a classical guitar. It also seems that too much effort into the decoration of a guitar can indicate that the maker may have lost sight of the what is actually most important in guitar, ie. sound, playability etc. 

Back to Tunbridge ware; this is a type of marquetry which I gather was developed around the area of Tonbridge, in the 19th Century. Numerous workshops made boxes such as writing boxes, tea caddies, small pieces of furniture etc. made of fine exotic wood and decorated with incredibly elaborate marquetry. These were usually floral patterns, often in autumn colours as they didn’t dye their veneers so only had various shades of brown, black and white to work with. The patterns are often quite striking looking, quite Victorian, and from what I gather were inspired/copied from another craft called Berlin Wool Work. As a craftsman, I have found it interesting reading about how both these arts flourished and eventually died, and about the careers of the Tunbridge ware makers.

What is interesting about Tunbridge Ware is the size of the marquetry patterns. Marquetry in guitar making is already time consuming, but a normal mosaic for a guitar rosette might be 12 little pieces of wood by 12, very small, and this then repeats over and over. A Tunbridge Ware pattern that I am studying now, in comparison, might be around 40 x 200. When I look at a Tunbridge ware piece, I can see the sheer amount of work gone into it; I would actually be interested to know what it's like to look at Tunbridge ware without that knowledge.

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Curious about this lost craft, I visited Tunbridge Wells to see some of this marquetry in real life.Travelling with a friend, I had some trepidation that the marquetry in person would be quite anti climatic. But luckily, upon leaving the train station and walking in the complete wrong direction, we stumbled across a food festival, which meant the trip was worth it either way. We then travelled to a beautiful antiques shop called The Pantilles, where I could behold Tunbridge ware for the first time. They had many brilliant examples and I wasn’t disappointed. In person, I could finally see the size of each individual piece of marquetry, which was 1mm, compared to the 0.5/0.6mm used in guitar making. I was also able to talk briefly with Eric Knowles ‘The Hoard’ who is a top British antiquarian

I next stopped off at the main museum in Tunbridge Wells. Downstairs they had an example of Tunbridge ware that had at some point in recent times been refinished in high gloss French polish. It was lovely to see an example of how these pieces would have looked when new. Upstairs was a display which actually included some old style of guitar, and if I recall correctly, the fretboard was elaborately decorated with Tunbridge ware marquetry. However, the real treasure and culmination of my trip was a video, an interview with a real living, Tunbridge ware maker. I had thought the art was dead, but the video shows the maker's workshop, his thoughts and his methods. There was a brilliant shot of some graph paper completely covered in mad symbols and numbers, where in each square he had detailed which colour of veneer would be used for the huge pattern he was creating. The maker’s name was Peter Benjamin, and upon doing some research when I returned from the trip, it appears he is no longer active, perhaps retired. Perhaps there are other makers practising the art too. Certainly, that was a good trip and has inspired me to do some further research into Tunbridge ware and perhaps incorporate some of this old craft into my work.

I must say Tunbridge ware has completely expanded my mind as to what I though was achievable with marquetry.

Guitar Making in 2023

My workshop for the past 3 years. So long!

A guitar making train-of-thought to start the year. I’m entering the year 2023 with some very clear goals that I’m extremely keen about working on, mostly revolving around my concert guitar model.

I had a very busy end of 2022. I was able to keep hold of one of my concert guitars for a while, and show it and other guitars to many players, dealers, and excitingly, two of my guitar making heroes. It involved lots of exciting travelling up and down the country. While I was doing that I was also finishing of other commissions and moving workshop too. (I’m now in a place where it is much easier to control the temperature and humidity, which is crucial for guitar making. My past workshop was very spacious and beautiful, but particularly during the winter I got very cold working there).

So 2023 has come along and I’m very fixated upon the sound of my concert model. As the design is my own and not a copy, it feels far more personal. I feel that when I’ve built ‘Torres’ style guitars or ‘Fleta’ style guitars etc, I’ve felt slightly disassociated from the sound - it’s someone else’s sound after all. But every guitar maker has their own ideal. I feel that a guitar has two or probably more dimensions to it, the one is the physical guitar, how it looks and plays; the second aspect is that it is a sound sculpture. This is very appealing and magical, and my focus this year is very much continuing to craft my unique sound.

As I come into contact with more guitar makers, dealers, and players and gather feedback, I get a sense of progeny, of knowledge of the craft being past along, lessons taught by previous generations being past to me. And I like to think that in this way, the sound of my concert model goes back to the roots of not only English guitar making, but beyond in this very connected modern world. It is also a sound being developed in direct response to the current classical guitar taste, which is ever evolving.

Thoughts on the different types of guitar finishes and how to care for them

I used a lacquer varnish, for my first 30 or so guitars, minus a couple here and there. I knew that French polish was considered the ‘gold standard’ in classical guitar making, but had become obsessed with mastering one finish before moving on to the next. However, I have recently started offering French polish and an oil finish on my guitars. All finishes has different advantages and disadvantages going for them, none are perfect but some can be more suitable for a particular person’s priorities.

Lacquer:

Lacquer can be buffed to a beautiful mirror gloss. (Writing this post has reminded me that for a while I have intended to read a book called Lacquer: An International History. I know that the earliest lacquerwork dates back to thousands of years ago in China and Japan.) For me, the advantage of lacquer is that once it’s finished and looking good, if a guitar is looked after, the lacquer should stay looking just as good many years down the line as it did on day one, with minimal fuss for the owner.

It is easy to care for; a wipe down with a slightly damp paper towel or cloth should be enough. The lacquer I use is really hard wearing, and a player won’t have to worry about using a cloth between their body and the guitar or anything like that.

I think it’s commonly known that French polish takes a long time and is hard to learn; that’s true but off the back of that comes the implication/assumption that a lacquer finish is easy. It’s not! Both are a tricky skills to learn and take time to execute, also both are easy in a way once the skill is truly learnt.

The disadvantages of lacquer: for the builder, getting the finish thin enough takes some time to learn, and it will never be quite as thin as French polish or oil; players often feel that a thick finish on the soundboard will inhibit the vibrating of the soundboard. Lacquer is also difficult to repair invisibly without a complete refinish of that particular surface.

I apply lacquer with a brush. After it’s dry I level with fine sandpaper. Then I buff by hand. Overall the process is quicker than French polish, but those last two steps take a good couple of long days and the buffing in particular is SO EXHAUSTING. In this way, there is definitely room for my lacquer process to be refined.

French Polish:

French polish is a method of applying a material called shellac. Shellac is dissolved in alcohol and then applied with a “rubber”, then the alcohol evaporates and you’re left with a very thin layer of shellac. It’s a very organic process. I have recently completed two French polished guitars and am feeling the French polishing vibe. I like the particular gloss I have gotten, it has a slightly softer more natural look to it than lacquer. It does look slightly more beautiful than lacquer, however as I mentioned there are downsides to be considered with any finish. For some people it might not be entirely practical, as a lacquer or oil finish would be.

The particular French polishing process I use is spread out over a month (there are many different methods), working an hour here and there sometimes in the morning or evening. So guitars can be built while another is being polished. It’s quite chill, especially when I think of the hectic couple of days at the end of my lacquer process.

I can speak less about the potential issues which might occur as I have more experience with lacquer and oil right now, however following general guitar care guidelines, as well as keeping and cloth between your right arm and the guitar, and occasionally wiping the guitar with a slightly damp paper towel/cloth; do all that and I don’t see there being any big issues.

For players who live in countries with really high humidity or who travel/tour around, a French polished instrument might just be too delicate.

Many luthiers offer a finish touchup after 6 months to a year on a new guitar. This is because the shellac will shrink considerably in the first year, however after it has done so this provides a good base for a touch up. French polish continues to develop and harden over the years.

Oil Finish

I’ve often thought that when I finally get round to building myself an instrument, I will finish it with a couple of coats of oil. Minimum fuss for the maker and the player, nothing to get in the way of the tone. There is never any danger of an oil finish cracking or blistering, as is possible with lacquer or French polish in certain conditions

I still prepare the wood the same way as I would for French polishing or lacquer. This means the grain of the wood is filled on open grained woods, and the end result is a smooth satin finish. I also seal the wood slightly to prevent the oil penetrating into the wood too deeply, minimizing any problems with oily rosewoods, and stopping an excess of oil of dampening the tone of the soundboard.

Again simply follow general guitar care guidelines should keep the guitar in ship shape. With an oil finish a guitarist may wish to keep a cloth between his right arm and the guitar to prevent it getting grubby.

Sometimes despite taking the greatest care a guitar will get dinged or scratched; one thing I like about oil finishes is that a scratches/dings don’t stand out so much on a surface which isn’t so glossy. I think that anything which harms an oil finished surface, would have done more noticeable damage to French polish; as far as durability goes lacquer is the winner. As well as lacquer, I think oil finishes would also be suitable for guitarists in high humidity countries where French polish can be problematic.

I will update this with some guidelines on general maintenance of an oil finish. I feel like an oiling once a year would help, and occasional wiping down with a slightly damp cloth. For cleaning serious grime, I will have to learn/come up with a method and update shortly.

The Development of my Concert Model Guitar

I have recently gone through a period of serious study, working really hard on a developing and finalising a design for my ‘Concert’ classical guitar model. The design I have come up with is the culmination of years of working to understand what makes a good concert worthy guitar. I have found that the qualities which make a quality concert instrument, such as volume, projection, strong trebles have been particularly difficult for me to pin down consistently, which is why, out of my other models - the Recital, flamenco and steel string - the Concert is only just now appearing.

Initially I started by building instruments quite inspired by a builder called Ignacio Fleta. I used a plan of one of his guitars as a starting point years ago, however - based on the feedback of players and guitar dealers - many changes have been made since then. However, it is still a tradition fan braced classical guitar, rather than lattice braced or double top.

One of my favourite things about my Concert model is the shape/outline, also called the plantilla. I feel it’s a quite difficult thing for a guitar maker to get just right. This is because when making guitars you spend over one hundred hours on each instrument, and by that time, whatever shape your guitar is, that’s what feels normal and looks right; from that standpoint, its difficult to make changes for the better objectively. I think I solved this problem. When sitting down to design the Concert model I decided that the plantilla I had been working with was too large, so it was time to design a new one. Well, you see, I have a storage room beneath my workshop. In it, amongst other things are some discarded guitars I built but wasn’t happy with, but haven’t gotten round to completely getting rid of them. They all have different plantillas, but there’s one, my fourth or so guitar, which I’ve always thought had a lovely shape. So I traced the outline, made a template and use that now! The thing is, the shape of the guitar is quite particular to the maker. Since its difficult to design a nice shape, one solution would be to copy another maker whose outline is definitely good. But I prefer my own solution which was to copy my past self!

I mentioned that it was quite a serious period of work to get this Concert model designed into existence. What prompted it was a visit to a guitar dealer, and trying a guitar I built, and then some other guitars by other guitar makers, and finding that my own wasn’t my favourite! In terms of sound and feel. What a humbling experience! As well as working on the model itself, I have also been fine tuning my French Polishing and developing a method for oil finishing. I finished my first 30 or so guitars with a kind of lacquer. I don’t think lacquer is worse, perhaps french polish for the top is more suitable. Either way, being able to do them all is great; they all have their ups and downsides and this particular topic probably deserves a post of its own.

In recent years I have developed a flamenco guitar model, a ‘Recital’ model which I designed to be a handmade guitar at a reasonable price (which I also used as a vehicle for gathering feedback from players and dealers), and steel string model. I’m proud to have my Concert model in the mix too now, which combines all my experience and is my ‘ideal’ instrument.