Creaks, croaks and cracks

I evicted that silly frog once already. But when it’s hot I leave the door to the studio open so it will cool off at night, and today I had my magnifying glasses on and was looking at how the splint sat in the slot when the plant six inches from my ear said, “Grreeeaaakkkkk!” He’s in there someplace.

For the last three days I have been coaxing the back off the sides. I heard a number of suggestions as to how best to do it, and ended up using a hot water/vinegar solution [10% vinegar if you’re taking notes]. It was intense, nerve wracking, time consuming work. I’ve done very little else but eat and sleep. Early on in my efforts I cracked the back – about an inch – as I was working around the bottom bout. There is the sharp crack that the glue makes when it releases, and there is the sharp crack the back makes when the edge splits. They sound the same. Heart in your mouth and you have to look. Hundred year old Brazilian rosewood about 2 mm thick is very brittle. Now I know that. And the crack is clamped and glued.

Learning to repair a guitar is about learning how to fix my mistakes as well as the original problems

Ain’t life like that?

I would guess I put in about 15 to 20 hours of painstaking labor, all generated by one simple sentence from a repair guy at Elderly Instruments. I described the problems to him, and he said, “Why not just pop the back off?” Simple country motion. *pop*. Does not bring to mind the picture of sitting cramped in one position hour after hour, the guitar across my knee, alternately woggling a pallet knife, and then squirting syringfuls of hot vinegar-water in a teeny crack.

When the back finally came loose, it was wonderful. I could see what I was working on; how to fix the top, and I was holding in my hand this amazingly light, stiff piece of hundred year old wood. I’ve got it apart. I can’t believe I did this. What have I done? Can I put it back together again? I sure hope so.

With the back off, the body relaxed and the end block crack closed up. I wonder why? I think it might be because the neck is out of true and pulling everything else off. Does that mean it will need to be fixed, too?

When I came in for dinner tonight, I told my partner about the cracked block. He immediately suggested I use gorilla glue in it. He even told me how to do it. “Why gorilla glue?” I asked. “It’s really strong.” he said. “You ever used it?’ I asked. “Uh, no.” So I changed the subject. One of the things I am learning as I work on this guitar is who to talk to. And who not to.

Care for the guitar; care for the maker

I am waiting for the glue pot to heat up. Hide glue -- made from horse bits, don't ask, is what the maker used on this old Washburn, so it is what I am using to patch it, and in the process learning how to work with it. It takes a half hour plus to heat, and seems to go from liquid to gel state in about half a minute. Perhaps I haven't thinned it enough.

Working on the top, I appreciate its fine-grained iridescence, and consider the history of the many marks left from its travels. Someone set a cigarette down here. Another person had a belt buckle that scratched there. The neck and soundboard have hit tables and chairs and once the guitar was dropped on its end pin, cracking the tail block. Some people have loved it and cared for well, others were more casual. There is a hollow worn in the top from a pick. The most visible damage was done by whoever hacked the first bridge off and shoddily glued on the wrong replacement.

I can't imagine what tool the bridge remover used that would scratch parallel lines in the top a quarter inch out on all sides. I can see why they could have chewed up the top under the old bridge if they didn't know how release the glue joint, but not outside its attachment point.

Each time as I work on this I admire the guitar. I heft it gently, stroke it and tap around the top to hear its tone. When I have cut a slit through to splint, the tone is less, and once I have the splice in place, the resonance returns. See. I am doing something right. The guitar tells me that each time.

Running my fingers over the soundboard (top) tells me different things than my eyes. I learn where my finish touch-up is rough, where the crack is still there, where the leveling is uneven.

The bridge. I will shape it an ebony bridge. I have been cutting the ebony block over and over in my mind. Probably by the time I line it up with the guide on the band saw, I will have cut it 20 or 30 times in my mind's eye. This is how I do most things I create -- build them in my mind -- consider the process until I can see each step clearly. Call someone, research something where it's vague.

Asking others to help me is way far down on the list. I am wary of someone coming into my work space and saying, "Oh, that's wrong." "You can't do it that way" , "THAT won't work". Words like that are hard to get around. They block me. Confidence is a smoldering fire that needs constant feeding, careful coaxing, and breath. Oh, and breath. Breathe life into this venture.

If it isn't going together right, sit back and breathe. Become the materials, and the air around them, know them, know yourself and breathe. Allow it all to be what it is.

Beginnings

I decided to start this blog to share my creative process with anyone interested. I am currently working on restoring a 1900ish parlor Washburn guitar, making a stuffed animal dragon, building a Turascon dragon and a giant knight's head for the Portland Revels, and several wood carving and sewing projects.

Every time I make up a design or begin a project, I am filled with both joy and terror -- delight in the creation (which takes up many of my waking minutes while staring out the window) and terror that I will screw it up past redemption. And then some of these have time deadlines which increases the terror part.

The Washburn is in pieces on my table right now. I want to take the back off so as to replace the bridge plate. Held together with hide glue, this sweet little box will need a combination of moisture and heat to separate. I have not done this before. What if I screw it up? Can I use the iron and steam setting? I don't have to worry about cutting through the bindings because the guitar has none. People do it regularly. I wonder how hard it is? I fired up the iron and damp cloth yesterday and heated the guitar up around the tail block, but, probing with both an exacto knife and a pallet knife did not show me any openings or movement. So it needs more... something.

I have splinted three of the cracks on the top, a process that involves shaving out the cracks with the exacto knife and then shaving down a splint of spruce (from the pieces left over the guitar I made) so that it fits tidily into the slot I cut. So far I have placed them and cut them out two or three times. They seem to shrink after I get them in and glued. I may just fill the cracks with glue. Both the cut and the splint are V shaped.

The top wood is much darker than my splices. I have experimented with staining the splint, and painting it with various water and oil based paints. It still looks like a patch. And it dries below the level of the rest of the top.

Fortunately the little guitar seems tolerant of my learnings. I like to explore the work I am doing using my hands, stroking the top, feeling the edges of my splints inside and out.

Next I will carve it a new pyramid style bridge out of ebony -- another thing I haven't worked in before. I hear it is very powdery and I will need to wear a mask.

I have put off ordering it a case and replica tuning machines till I do the main repairs -- and learn if I can.

Perhaps the only difference between courage and foolhardiness is the outcome.