Archtop Guitar: Back and Sides

The wood I've chosen to fabricate the back and sides of this instrument from is something of a mystery. I bought it perhaps 25 years ago, accepting without question at the time that the vendor's labelling of the wood as "Tasmanian Oak" was accurate. I don't recall whether I had immediate plans for it, but if I did, it seems I was distracted before I could convert intentions into action. It features subtle flame, which more than likely explains my purchase; there's a good chance I bought it on impulse and set it aside for a rainy day.

Wet with alcohol to reveal its colour.

I'm tempted to think that many of our endemic Australian tree species were christened in the early days of colonisation by unimaginative British folk longing for the familiarity of home; there are many native species designated as ash, maple and oak, for example, although they're unrelated to their European namesakes. I'm sure our indigenous inhabitants had much more melodious names for them prior to the invasion. 

In the case of the wood sold as Tasmanian Oak, it's commonly known that it could be sourced from any one of three Eucalyptus species, but this wood is distinctly different in appearance. To use a commercial fishing analogy, it could perhaps be described as "bycatch". It has the familar Tasmanian Oak aroma when worked, but overall it's much darker in colour and its tan shades vary across the quarter-sawn face; the texture is much finer than the ubiquitous hardware store variety too.

In any case, I managed to bend the ambitiously tight Venetian cutaway without mishap, using a technique demonstrated by the late Ken Parker on his YouTube channel. Briefly, it involves gluing bias-cut linen patches to what will become the outer surfaces of the tightest bends in order to support the wood fibres subject to tension as the wood is bent.  To further assist in bending these tight curves, I also followed his example and thinned the sides a little more than I usually would. To make up for the thinner sides, I added a 1mm inner laminate of cherry veneer which will contribute to crack protection and add stiffness to the rims.

Carving the back plate went well enough after I'd brushed up on my gouge sharpening technique and adopted the grimly determined mindset required. As I discovered, reducing a hardwood back plate to something approaching its final dimensions using only hand tools is a test of patience and resolve. I know that the contours of top and back plates can be roughed out using routers and other power tools, but apart from establishing the outermost plate thickness, I chose to restrict myself to planes, gouges and scrapers. There's further refinement required where final thicknessing of the perimeter is concerned, but for the time being I can move on to other tasks.

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: Bridge

In keeping with the theme of this project, which is to make use of nondescript pieces of wood cluttering up the workshop, the bridge I'll fit to this instrument will be fabricated from a highly figured and seriously dense chunk of red gum (Eucalyptus camaldulensis) that I wrenched out of our firewood delivery man's hands a few years ago. "I'm not burning that", I told him!

The wood's dramatic figure is very appealing, but although it's well seasoned, it might contribute to some instability over time. The guitar is for my own use, however, and the worst case scenario is that I'll have to replace the bridge at some point - no big deal, and it's much cheaper than ebony!

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: A Dilemma

As I prepared to begin carving the top of this guitar I found myself facing a dilemma, mainly because I don't know whether I'll repeat the exercise. Ideally, for a project such as this one, I'd own a range of gouges and a convex-bottomed plane or two, but I questioned whether their purchase could be justified given that I can't be sure that the cost would be spread across more than one archtop instrument. Nevertheless, in a moment of weakness, and with the prospect of carving a back from a dense hardwood, I gave in to temptation and purchased a small convex-soled plane while resisting the urge to buy other desirable tools. Fortunately, I also own a couple of small gouges, so I'm not entirely floundering.

With the success of this guitar far from guaranteed at this stage, I guess I'll eventually deem it a worthwhile effort and be encouraged to expand my arsenal of carving tools in order to build more of them, or I'll think of it as an interesting diversion but stick with the flat top guitars I'm much more comfortable with.

As it turned out, carving the outer surface of the top plate was relatively straightforward once I'd become familiar with the areas of the top that were happy to cooperate, and those that were a little more recalcitrant. Using flat bottomed planes on the convex surfaces, I was able to quickly remove a lot of material, while my puny gouges and a variety of scrapers dealt with the concave shapes close the perimeter. My recently acquired convex-bottomed plane is certain to prove its worth as I proceed to shape the inner surface of the top.

Among the many relevant tips I picked up from Ken Parker's YouTube videos, his example of first establishing the top's longitudinal arch was an especially useful strategy. Also following his lead, I'm using a low, raking light source that's proving invaluable as I identify lumps and bumps and work towards achieving something approaching symmetry and a smoothly graduated surface.

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: Soundboard

Given the significant investment of time and effort involved in crafting an archtop guitar, there's an argument for using the very best materials I can find. An equally valid point of view is that, for my first attempt at an archtop, there are likely to be mistakes along the way and that it's good policy to choose raw materials of a lesser quality to match my modest expectations.

For this guitar, I've taken the latter approach to the extreme. A Douglas fir coffee table has languished, unused and propped up in a corner of the workshop, for years. In fact, I've had visions of adding it to the pile of tree branches accumulating in a corner of our little property as they await dry weather and a match. However, after stewing over the reality that a decent spruce top could set me back hundreds of dollars and be destined for mediocrity, I contemplated how best to repurpose the old coffee table.

As the table top was comprised of several adjacent lengths of fir, with grain oriented randomly, I separated the sections with a circular saw and selected the pieces whose grain was closest to quarter-sawn. As you can see, the composite soundboard in its raw state would be a firm favourite in an ugly contest, but I'm reasonably confident that I can transform it into something resembling a guitar. Despite their humble origins, there's a sense of excitement and anticipation when I contemplate making use of sub-optimal materials that may ultimately make beautiful noises.

More to come.

Cheers, Pete.

Archtop Guitar: Something From Nothing

It was my admiration for the archtop guitars of Jimmy D'Aquisto featured in Guitar Player magazine almost 50 years ago that sparked my initial interest in guitar building. Despite that interest, this project will be my first foray into creating an archtop guitar of my own, now motivated as much by the music they are known for as their existence as objects of beauty. Bob Benedetto's seminal book, Making an Archtop Guitar, has waited patiently in the bookshelf, and its day has finally come!

Guitar by Fremiditi Guitars

Some contemporary jazz guitarists I've recently become aware of - notably Szymon Mika and Lage Lund - have provided the impetus to finally contemplate planing, chiselling and gouging a top and back out of some horrendously expensive wood, guided by the Benedetto book and the late, great Ken Parker's YouTube videos. Lately, I've also explored some analyses of John McLaughlin's chord voicings that have me hankering for a guitar with a shorter scale length more forgiving of someone like me with Dupuytrens Contracture and the restricted dexterity and finger span it's forced me to live with.

I've gazed longingly at desirable tonewoods available online, but with aspirations tempered by reality, I've scrounged through the wood I have at hand and committed to doing the best I can with the assortment of materials I already have. lf, at the very least, I can transform them into a functional instrument, I'll be more than happy.

More to come.

Cheers, Pete

 

A Higuerilla Practice Run

I have two back and side sets of higuerilla, one of which I'd classify as remarkable, with the other set attractive enough, but much plainer in appearance.

As this is a wood species I've not previously worked with, I figured I'd put together a 00 model using the plainer of the two sets in an effort to identify potential side-bending problems before I begin an instrument with what I'd consider a once-in-a-lifetime set.

Preparing to attach the top

Despite some springback necessitating a little refinement on the bending iron, bending went well, and there was no sign of cross-grain rippling. The higuerilla sides are laminated with inner veneers, and I was pleased to see that the final shape conforms exactly with the required body outline, with the side assembly sitting comfortably in the outside mold with next to no clamping force necessary.

So far, so good!

Cheers, Pete

  

For Sale: Claro Walnut/Port Orford Cedar OM

The lighting in my workshop is a stand-out feature I notice and appreciate every day. Banks of LED strip lights supplement the natural light illuminating the workshop through several large windows, making woodworking a much more pleasant pursuit and reducing my propensity to screw things up from time to time.

One downside is that photographing my work is frustrating to say the least, with reflections on glossy finished instruments very hard to eliminate entirely. A pair of LED movie lights is on my wish list therefore, and I'm confident that with the flexibility they'll provide in terms of placement and the ability to dial in colour temperature, I'll be able to avoid these lighting issues to a large extent.

In the meantime, here are some shots of a recently completed guitar, complete with unwanted reflections and questionable colours. Even with my high quality Canon camera, whose colour rendition reviewers often applaud, I struggle to accurately capture the colour of the various woods I use; the redwood-topped guitar I featured in a recent post is a case in point. Aside from acquiring the movie lights I mentioned above, more practice is obviously required!

The individual growth rings on this Port Orford cedar top are so closely spaced that they're almost impossible to distinguish; several centuries of growth must surely have contributed to its creation and, as its construction proceeded, I've frequently reminded myself that I have an obligation to put precious material such as this to good use. Having successfully completed this guitar, I have no doubt that it will outlive me, and my hope is that it will provide decades of pleasure for its eventual owner/s.

Contact me for pricing and details.

Cheers, Pete