Day 2

Someone once said that the essence of woodworking is learning to fix your own mistakes. Don’t worry, I’ve made plenty.

Staining the wood is driving this lesson home the hard way. There’s nothing wrong with the stain, it’s actually what aviation calls the pilot error and most companies call their users being dumb.

In this case, the client was me. Idiot.

After 12 hours plus, I rolled back into the shop to see how the stain is progressing. Of course, the 12-hour drying time is specified as drying time at 23 degrees Celsius and 50% moisture levels.

My workshop has neither of those, so the wood was still wet.

In startups, we call this RTFM - read the f*cking manual. Technically, I did that, but way too late.

It wasn’t soaking wet, but wet enough to make things complicated. Yes, I’m aware of a “that’s what she said!” joke buried in there.

Remember the 101 Dalmatians reference? Yup, that happened too. Apparently, I have given up on sanding to soon and/or the lacquer went all the way through in certain areas. Not good.

The flat back was mostly fine, even after a single coat of wood stain, but the archtop front was not.

My brain cells were working overtime as I played through most of the wrong solutions to the problem in my head and attempted to do some of them in practice. The spots got worse.

Isn’t there a saying that things get worse before they get better? The person who came up with that one surely wasn’t a woodworker.

Decided to do the unintuitive solution and dropped more paint on problem areas, this time with the archtop looking up.

Left it to dry. Went home to lick my wounds.

Same $h!t, different day

I came up to the shop and once again, the guitar was still moist. The spot problem was covered - covered being the operational word.

They were in no way solved, just buried under some new wood stain.

Proceeded with a feather-light sanding operation, stopping before any real damage took place.

I wanted to wipe the wood off with a towel, but it was new and leaving marks.

I had to glove up and press in the remained of the paint this way, trying my best to cover all the self-inflicted damage done to it.

Also cranked up the heat, waited for the room to warm up, and did everything short of praying for the stain soak in.

I was feeling rather good at this point. I probably should have known that is just calm before an oil storm.

Archeological excavation of the binding

My friend Uroš sent me a message in the morning. Apparently, even the big guitar brands don’t put the binding protection in place, but rather just scrape off the paint with a razor after the fact.

Didn’t exactly have a razor, but putting an exacto knife apart did the trick.

It made me happy. If it’s good enough for Gibson, it’s good enough for me.

I am not a man, who can sit idly for a very long time. And I sure as hell wasn’t up to spending additional time watching wood dry, so I attempted it.

It was going quite well, minus a few new extra knicks that I managed to put in the stain on the sides. Glove up, tap the stain in again,…

It sure felt like waking up on a merry-go-round after a night out drinking. Not that I’ve ever done it, but I can imagine that’s how it feels.

The body was finally black, the binding was white and everything looked dry-ish enough. At this point, I still had the plan to finish the build by the next day.

Then I saw the oil will dry for 8-10 hours (in the non-existent ideal conditions, so probably more like 24 for me), so I decided to catch up, threw some oil on a kitchen sponge, and went to town.

Here’s a lesson for y’all:

Every time I hurry in the shop, $h!t goes sideways.

Should have learned by now, but I guess I’m too stubborn.

The birth of a vintage look

The spots were back.

The top was okay-ish, but the sides were now starting to acquire a look of a guitar that has been on tour with a teenage band one too many times.

Thought about drying it, re-sanding it, and going at the sides again. But since I’m not sure how deep the lacquer rabbit hole goes, I’d rather have a guitar that looks a little worse for wear.

After all, it’s the first guitar I will ever build. And you never really stop loving your first DIY guitar.

For my own sake, I’m hoping the same applies to the lady’s first husband if you know what I mean.

Some days you’re the pigeon, and some days you’re the statue. It was a statue kind of day.