The story behind the build: This is (NOT) a Guitar
Part one
Generally, a social media post isn’t the best place to discuss something in any kind of depth, so I’d like to use this platform as an opportunity to share stories about builds that deserve a little more than some words and a few hashtags.
Each year at NAMM, the Boutique Guitar Showcase features very special builds from guitar makers around the world. Often esoteric and always incredible, four pieces are selected to be featured as art installations and given prominent placement at the entrances to entice those in attendance to come in and see more, and to also set the tone of what they’ll encounter inside the showcase.
My first time displaying my NAMM guitars in the BGS was the 2024 show, and I distinctly remember thinking to myself that the idea of an art installation piece isn’t something I’d likely ever do. To take it further, I imagined that if I were ever asked to do such a thing, I’d decline. I mean, sure, making guitars can be considered an art form in some way, but let’s be honest, I don’t know that what I have to say as a guitar maker lends itself to artistry. Foreshadowing complete.
The email
When I woke up the morning of April 16, 2025, I did what many people do; check my email while having my first coffee of the day and try to get past the exhaustion that was the previous day’s tax filing. And there it was, right there the top of my inbox, “Subject: Call for Art Installation Proposals – NAMM 2026 | Boutique Guitar Showcase”. Hm. Of course, my immediate thought was to politely decline and get on with the day, but I didn’t. I just lived with the idea for the morning. Interestingly enough, anidea popped into my head. At that particular time, I was going through a “hate” stage of my love/hate relationship with this thing to which I’ve dedicated most of my life, and the ideas that were percolating were pretty dark. Had the installation been selected, it likely would have bummed me out to make it, along with anyone who would see it. Granted, the idea probably wouldn’t have been selected, and instead, a recommendation for some counseling may have been offered. Thankfully, I had until May 15th to kick the idea around and submit something.
The idea
Truly a rough sketch - As you’ll see in the drawing, it mentions the idea of screens; that was part of the original (dark) idea where we’d have screens that had looped videos. Initially, it was going to be mostly text, and then maybe time lapse photography of guitars being made, but it didn’t fit with the larger idea of being in a cartoon. I also had an idea to paint an “amp” in the environment and have cardboard boxes painted like pedals to kind of give some depth. I still like that idea, but as you’ll see, I went a different way.
I was inspired by a fragments of a few things, but ultimately, I landed at the idea of making something that looked like an empty coloring book. The idea being that when someone gets a new guitar, it’s like an empty vessel that you pour yourself into. The guitar, for me, has been a lot of things; inspirational, a way out, a friend, but it’s also been like a phone call that rings and rings and rings, only to be unanswered (have I mentioned our love/hate relationship?) Back to the idea; as you’re adding your own experience, you’re coloring your book, so to speak. A book that I love is Zen Guitar by Philip Toshio Sudo. In it, he talks about trying to maintain the beginner’s mind, and makes an analogy of becoming a black belt; you start out with a white belt, and your experiences turn it black. The beginner’s mind approach takes that black belt and makes it white again due to wear and fraying. Kind of a similar analogy. Anyway, the guitar had to look like a cartoon; something that you’d see in a coloring book. The model would of course be the ‘71; it’s the model I’ve put the most work into designing, and also one that started out as a pencil drawing.
So if we have this cartoon guitar, where does it live? It absolutely had to have its own environment in order to communicate the idea in the way I wanted, and that means there has to be some kind of structure in which it would live. “So, you’re making a huge diorama for NAMM?” mused my pal Mike Squires when I ran the idea past him, and just like in elementary school, I’m making a diorama, Mike was the first friend I told about this idea; he’s a super encouraging pal, and I was in a spot where that sort of encouragement was very needed. But how in the hell was I going to make a diorama?!?!? It’s not like in 4th grade when you get a shoe box and some modeling clay. There needs to be a structure. Not sure if I’ve mentioned it, but I’m not a carpenter, and I really didn’t know how to make this happen.
Anyway, like most of my ideas, I let it live a little, and then came the time to submit my idea for consideration. By the time I submitted my idea, I was really excited about it, but also terrified of it, and there was a pretty big part of me that hoped I wouldn’t be chosen. Why? Well, because then I was going to have to make this big idea of mine a reality. It was going to take a lot of time, and this couldn’t be my main focus; I also had a business to run. Oh yeah, that.
After submitting my idea, I was told that the submissions would be reviewed, and decisions would be made at the end of the month. June 8th, I got the news; I was chosen! Rad! And ohhhhhh fuck, Now I gotta make this thing. But that’s a problem for future Sully. Future Sully is gonna be really upset with Present Sully.
Stay tuned for part 2!