“Best quality” came up as a blog idea a few years back. Now it’s back again. I feel the most important part of any conversation is acclimation to the language being used, which brings me to my main point: What does “best quality” mean ?
While I was scouring Instagram for vendors for the upcoming High Desert Luthiery Invitational, I realized these words (“best quality”) are commonly found on many websites with no explanation why something is “the best” - no clarity or context, and no mention of functionality.
It’s an odd term to use in a world that is inherently subjective: a world in which a guitar is both art and a playable instrument. The guitar, and any stringed instrument for the matter, is assessed subjectively by each individual experiencing it in terms of its look, sound, and feel. Even how the instrument functions is subjective. What feels really good to one player might not work or be ideal for another. Where does this idea of “having the best” of a thing or “being the best” come from?
When I was wondering about this, I remembered that to be “the best” is a phrase married to sports or any sort of competition. I feel like “being the best”, at the very least, needs to be followed with “for now” to provide a clear and realistic message to the listener. In sum, the idea of things being a competition goes alongside being “the best”. The saying “there will always be someone better than you” comes up for me when thinking about this idea. Maybe it’s part of being in a seemingly male-dominated guitar culture. Maybe this idea comes from the unnecessary need to turn things into a pissing contest - a manifestation of masculinity gone too far. This practice of assessing “the best” takes away from the art as what it is and the artists for who they are. How do we change this?
Early on in my luthiery career, I attended the famous Healdsburg Guitar Festival in Santa Rosa, California - an event now dead and gone. It was common to see a bunch of dudes gathering and comparing similar Martin-style acoustic guitars as an excuse to talk about whose was “the best” build. Topics included: who had been building guitars the longest, who took the longest on their build (as a point of pride), who used what materials, and whoever had the most expensive builds was definitely “the best”. Interestingly, how many guitars a luthier had made hardly came up - for one very good reason: the numbers were extremely low and the topic of a builder’s efficiency as being part of being “the best” was not even on the table. All I felt at the time was that I was really turned off by this attitude. I realized that what I appreciate is the want to become a better craftsperson: to improve our skills, to learn how to dial in or manipulate our instrument designs, and to generally refine things. As I walked around the fairly large show, I was finally able to find like-minded builders. They weren’t getting caught up in the nonsense of who is better than who. They led with sharing their love for their craft, which was inspiring.
I also came to realize that while most people will use the word “best”, I tend to go with “most efficient”. As in, I gauge my own “best-ness” in terms of how efficient I can be in my shop - working efficiently and effectively. But, it is only a competition with myself to better my own best. I will often time myself when doing any process to see how well I’m progressing through a build and to keep track of my hours spent. If I am efficient with my time, I stand a better chance of making more money, whether it’s with repairs or builds. I also feel that I’m bettering my skills. Needless to say, I’m not into sacrificing quality for efficiency. I want to accomplish both. That’s my internal competition. I have no interest in having a pissing contest with others about it, though. Having worked for many years in a professional production situation, I have been trained under the eye of quality control and under the clock of efficiency. I use these as tools to help me challenge myself and feel a sense of accomplishment.
Recently, really leaning into the approach of “guitars as art” has changed my attitude toward every single piece of the instrument I’m building. What art is the “right” art, or “the best” art? That becomes a very silly question. The wood used in the build can be considered art made by nature. The pickups I use are made by artists of their craft. The hardware has all been the design and creation of someone, regardless of how it’s made. Every piece of the build was designed by someone, somewhere. To say one part is “the best” in general or “the best” over the rest of the parts is a very subjective thing, and something not worth answering - it’s an opinion. Everyone is welcome to their own. We can realize how we approach sharing our opinions can hurt or help the artist.
We can certainly look at the quality of or function of things and assess them for those parameters. When looking at quality, I consider four things: does it get the job done, fit in the budget, give me the desired look I want, and how long does it last? To me, the look is one of the most important things. Any piece of hardware is going to age and wear out over time with use. So, as long as it functions, it’s totally usable. Sometimes, as luthiers, we choose longevity of a part over all else for reliability. We want our product to be sound for our buyer and our reputation as a builder. I have experienced all types of hardware, expensive or not, fail from the get-go so many times I have chosen to use whatever gives me the look I want and fits in my budget. Unfortunately, expensive parts don’t guarantee quality and certainly don’t mean the build is “the best”.
I hope, as you’ve been reading this article, you’ve begun to see that if we allow this dumbed-down, and unelaborated, “the best” way of looking at things to dictate how we make decisions as craftspeople, we end up in a box and don’t leave room for exploration and growth. Our art becomes dictated by some internal belief that things can only be a certain way or an external dictate that they must be a certain way to be “the best”. Says who?
We can always strengthen our vocabulary in a modern world where word selection keeps shrinking. We can also lead with our own experience, not in a prideful way, but in a “hey, this has been my experience” way. Examples are: “this brand has the look I want”, “this part meets my price point”, “this part gets the job done” and “this is my personal preference for my builds”. These sort of statements gives context and support understanding. It expands the choice to why you chose it. It does not gauge the choice against some vague parameter of “the best”. The point is, “the best” doesn’t get us anywhere in our own creativity or in relating to other luthiers and forming a community of support.
To encourage relating, we can even ask each other: “What brand do you prefer, and why?” Now we’ve got a real conversation happening that otherwise wouldn’t have happened due to the statement of something being “the best”, which ends a conversation or creates an argument. We can each have our opinions and preferences and learn from each other, not cut each other down. I appreciate all the business people I’ve encountered who have found other adjectives to describe their work other than “the best”, or even followed “better” or “best” with “to me” or “in my experience”. Crafty words like “bespoke” or “artisanal” are getting used a lot more often. While those may sound different to our ears, we don’t have to ascribe competition to them. Descriptions of a piece of (art)work beyond specs are so crucial to selling to strangers in an online store. Being able to tell the story behind a build can be so helpful to making a sale via the internet or in-person. It makes you a real person making real art. People want to know you, the artist - it makes the art more valuable to them. In some sense, we aren’t hiding behind specs, or believing they are what will sell our instrument.
In our shops we often use the same tools and templates when repeating a process to be efficient. That doesn’t mean we have to be the same way with our speech. Let’s broaden our vocabulary and find other ways to express to our customers and fellow builders the story of our art. Let’s reach out to each other and ask open-ended questions to encourage communication: “why did you choose that particular bridge?”. Curiosity makes us human. Competition, when used to segregate some from others, doesn’t encourage our humanity nor make us “better” artists.
The High Desert Luthiery Invitational provides a space for artists to come together and share their craft. I intentionally invite people who are enthusiastic about getting together with other artists and supporting the community.
