My Woodworking Journey

In April 2020, I was laid off while working as a cabinetmaker for a production company due to the Covid lockdown. In those 6 weeks, I went into a very dark depression. My wife, Colleen, and I were living in an apartment in Chicago with north-facing windows, and outside of playing music, I had no creative outlet. Colleen saved me from depression when she got me a build-your-own ukulele kit. This seemingly simple gift became a turning point in my life. It was not just a kit but a gateway to a new passion. I quickly discovered I loved making instruments. Up until that point, I had always been a woodworker. I had done cabinetmaking, trim work, millwork, framed houses, and built sets for opera and theatre. However, the ukulele kit was unique because it melded my passions for music and carpentry in a natural way, and I soon developed an intimate connection to the work. In that dark time, I crossed the bridge from craft to art and discovered I had a passion for Lutherie. The kit was a basic StewMac Tenor Ukulele Kit. While it should have taken me 2-6 weeks to build the instrument, I worked like I was possessed and made it in 72 hours. I didn't eat or sleep until it was finished, and I finally played my first chord. I had so much fun building my tenor ukulele that I bought a second kit, a concert ukulele. This time, I was determined to take my time, take notes, and research different luthier techniques. Then came word from my employer that it was time to return to work.

Even though Chicago and the country were still under a severe lockdown, the production company I worked for got us all back since we, as cabinetmakers, were deemed "essential workers," but the work never felt essential to me; if anything, it felt existential. Returning to work sent me back into a deep depression. Having newly discovered my passion for making exciting instruments, suddenly making dull objects for people I didn't care about felt meaningless. I got to a place mentally where everything seemed like a waste of time. Between work and home, I simply lived only to work. Exerting myself day in and day out only to make someone else rich while I could barely afford groceries, gas, and shelter. The choice between servitude and starvation never felt like a choice but an obligation. During COVID-19, I realized that the choice between servitude and starvation is universal for all living beings; only the key difference lies in the human and natural worlds. While living creatures serve for the good of all, the capitalist system is designed for us to serve in a way that only benefits the elite. Until COVID-19, the sting of this reality was dulled by so many of life's pleasant distractions that I never noticed. Movies, restaurants, museums, live theatre, concerts, and bars made it all more bearable. But the pandemic stripped life down to nothing but work and home, which made it very clear to me just how soul-sucking the capitalist system really is. A system designed to extract from everything within its reach is not a system based on harmony. It is a prison designed to keep you inside and dependent on its structure to determine your life. Realizing this, I decided I wouldn't stand for it anymore, so I returned to the one thing that brought me harmony, which could help me break my chains: Lutherie.

I eventually finished my concert ukulele kit and set out on a new project: to build a soprano ukulele entirely from scratch. This would be my life for the next four months. I felt wholly dedicated to building this instrument as I did with my first kit ukulele, and since I had access to the shop again, I took full advantage of the tools. The more I could accomplish each day, the more I could learn, and the closer I could take myself away from my job, responsibilities, Chicago, and everything. I felt as though I were tunneling my way out of prison. With everything in me, I believed that if I could build just one really beautiful instrument, I could change my destiny and carve out a new path in life as a luthier. I would no longer accept making a living building fancy boxes for multimillion-dollar corporate lobby installations or elaborate sets for opera houses with almost infinite budgets only to be discarded after the run. I wanted to make something genuinely beautiful that could be used by a musician, just 1 person rather than a corporation, and they could use my work as a tool for art, cherish it, and pass it down to their child or friend. This felt like my purpose. My destiny.

Then came hard decision time. Things at my job in Chicago became ever more intense as Covid restrictions tightened, and the company demanded more from all of us. For my sanity, I quit my job and threw myself to the wind to see where life would take me. Aside from Colleen, everyone in my life told me I had just made the biggest mistake. Despite their warnings, I was determined to follow my path. I made a video of my soprano ukulele build, sent it out to hundreds of luthiers and instrument manufacturers worldwide, and even offered to work for free. Then, one fateful day, I got a phone call from Bourgeois Guitars in Lewiston, Maine, and my entire life changed. This was how Colleen and I ended up in Maine and how I got the opportunity of a lifetime to work for a premier boutique guitar company, working alongside Dana Bourgeois and some of the most talented luthiers on the planet. Between 2020 and 2024, I worked in the neck department. I was responsible for carving and prepping the neck, headstock, and fretboard for over 2000 guitars during my tenure, and I even managed to build a few of my own instruments during that time. I made lifelong friends, learned valuable lessons, and had the time of my life. I was a part of the construction process for Dana's 10,000th guitar, an OM Style 45 Custom, and in 2023, the Manufacturer's Association of Maine awarded Bourgeois Guitars Manufacturer of the Year. Words cannot describe how honored I was to be a part of that accomplishment. In 2024, I decided to spread my wings and fly. Now, I work for a nonprofit arts organization and am devoted to art promotion for the creative economy. I still keep in touch with the guys at Bourgeois (they're letting me store my current guitar build in their shop), and I still have a passion for Lutherie. I just don't do it for a living anymore.

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