CONFESSIONS OF A LUTHIER
My face is furrowed with lines of concentration as I pick up the tool. A slow-motion sharpened block plane glides into focus, the gossamer-thin ribbon of a freshly cut wood shaving effortlessly unfurling from the surface like fresh apple peel. Motes of dust sparkle through the air like stars scattered through a night sky.
Unfortunately, though – forgetting that I’m actually building a proper instrument – I’ve