The guitar has fascinated me for as long as I can remember. Long before I understood that instrument making could become a profession, I was taking guitars apart simply to understand them. I refinished them, re-fretted them, experimented with inlay, and occasionally improved them, though in retrospect many of those early efforts were more educational than successful. Looking back, I realize I wasn't simply learning to build guitars. I was developing the habit of asking questions. Why does one instrument come alive beneath your hands while another, outwardly similar, falls flat? Why do certain instruments continue to reveal themselves over decades while others are quickly understood?
At eighteen I attended the Galloup School of Lutherie, where I received my first formal training in instrument making. After graduating, I returned to New York and spent a short time in the repair department at Rudy's Music before joining Sadowsky Guitars. There I remained for more than seven years, building, repairing, and setting up instruments for many of the world's finest musicians while learning from Roger Sadowsky, a builder whose generosity, integrity, and commitment to excellence influenced me profoundly. During my time there, Roger and I developed seven prototype acoustic guitars, the first Sadowsky acoustics produced in more than twenty years.
Although those years gave me an invaluable technical foundation, my fascination with the steel-string acoustic continued to grow. That curiosity eventually led me to California to apprentice with Ervin Somogyi. Ervin's work had inspired me for years, and studying alongside him fundamentally changed the way I think about the instrument. I came to appreciate just how interconnected every aspect of a guitar truly is. No decision exists in isolation. Every choice carries consequences, and understanding those relationships remains one of the most rewarding parts of the craft.
The longer I build, the less interested I become in unnecessary complexity. I find myself drawn instead to clarity of purpose, whether in the way an instrument sounds, feels, or simply rests in the hands. The details matter, but only insofar as they contribute to the whole. My aim is never to impress for its own sake, but to create guitars that feel cohesive, honest, and enduring.
Today I build a small number of guitars each year in my workshop in New York. Limiting my output allows every commission the time and consideration it deserves while giving me the freedom to continue refining my understanding of the instrument. Every guitar presents another opportunity to ask better questions, solve familiar problems in new ways, and build something that will continue to reward its owner for years to come.