Others' tools... we just caretake them and carry on. Some will pass themselves, others will still be here to pass along. Sometimes in the course of a week or a month, things happen, and they provide a particularly colored lens that you view everything through. Everything takes on this tint. Given what has gone on in my little town of Wimberley, Texas over the past few weeks, there is a tint of impermanence, and that which we think we own but really only borrow.
I am honored to have in my shop a few flood instruments to work on, to make sure they are structurally sound, to restring, to put back in the hands of people who wear brave faces... but I know in some ways, will never be the same. It comes, in whatever form it comes, and when it comes we cope and music is there.
Hurricane Bill or Fred or Dick, or whatever this one's name was... Egbert... Seymour... missed us entirely. Other than the occasional short burst of rain, the weather has been fantastic and I, your humble servant, have been a small, hairy blur, covered in sawdust, moving to the rhythms of the Rolling Stones. 40 Licks (CD 2) has been my companion, and I have routed, glued, cut, rounded, drilled and prepped myself absolutely silly. So here I sit with a glass of Mirassou Pinot Noir 2013, trying to make sense of it all... the highs, the lows... that which inspires and that which drains. But all I can really do is make basses (& guitars), and I am the most grateful son of a bitch on the entire planet.
We have put some interesting bits in inventory; please check that page out - more to come. I would venture to say we are busier than a 3 legged cat in a sandbox. This week's gallery is made up of some of the tools of other shops which somehow, as all of one's experiences add up to the self you become, have become this workshop of ours. A carving hammer from the shop of Jake Goede, little sculpted "energy alignment tools" from the workshop of my good friend and inspiration Adideva Haydn Larson, a luthier's clamp gifted by a great blues guitar player I played with briefly long ago, the late John Kirtland's workshop apron, the old original SD Curlee workshop router and fret press, a bench from my uncle, a body lamination jig from Jennings-Thompson Guitars... so many more not pictured. A small band saw from an older man selling off his things to go into a home, a clamp and ruler from a recently passed WWII vet metal worker, hammers and hand tools from unknown fathers and grandfathers. Mama Dot, Jamie's grandmother, is remembered fondly every time I look at the bench in the center of my shop. It holds up sanders and the joiner... this was her kitchen table. And if that wasn't a workshop for food, I don't know what to tell you.
We started with borrowed tools and we carry on with tools we may have bought and gathered, but these are also only borrowed for a while. It means so much to me to have the meaning in these tools become a part of the meaning of what I do while I do it for all of you. Thank you so much.
Powered by music (and veggie soup with lentils and spicy broth),