Not an imitation of some famous builders guitar; an original hand made guitar by a maker who understands flamenco guitars with a track record for making tasty
blancas.

The price is $3300.00

The offer stands until all five sets of Port Orford Cedar are spoken for.

The details:
The rosette will be simple, but elegant. Concentric circles lines with one small tile element, my modern versions of the rosettes on Esteso, Santos and Manuel Ramirez blancas.
My new head stock design
Twelve hole bridge
Binding on the back plain, binding and purfling on the face.

Options:

1. Spruce or Cedar top
2. Pegheds mechanical Pegs or Gotoh
3. Soundport

Terms: $400.00 deposit to reserve a place on this special list. The first person in line will receive their guitar in August. You can return the guitar in five days in perfect condition for a deposit refund. Buyer must pay shipping both ways.

Shipping:
Shipped with exterior box in a light weight foam nylon travel case. Buyer pays for shipping. I can provide the package weight and dimensions ahead of time to calculate shipping price.

An example of this type of Port Orford Cedar blanca guitar can be seen in this video:
Port Orford Cedar Blanca

ETA Mid October- I’ll post more in progress shot when the back is glued on.

In progress images of two instruments which will be done soon.

On the left a Concert Uke with Birds Eye Maple body and Port Orford Cedar top. the headstock veneers are made of slices of Ebony laminated together to create stripes from dark and light colored variations in the Ebony. Sometimes Ebony has light colored sap wood that can create dramatic stripes in the wood. I like to utilize the dark on light wood for detail work on instruments.

On the right is the back of a flamenco guitar made of Malaysian Blackwood. it also has naturally occurring light on dark striping.

Now how does one attach a picture to this text?

New Headstock design with a wash coat of finish. Thai rosewood on a Spanish cedar neck. Sloane tuners

I was washing my clothes to day at the laundromat on Piedmont Ave. in Oakland California. I loaded my clothes in the cylinder, added the detergent and two dollars in coins. The coins fell into the slot and made a sound like a xylophone. Coin operated washing machines are really musical if you listen to them carefully.
After I listened to my round metal disks drop into the gears and guts of the washing machine making sounds like a few triangle strikes in an orchestra, I waited for the flood of water into the perforated metal barrel that my clothes were lumped into.

I walked up the avenue to pass time while my clothes spun in the water. I looked into the window of the nail salon five doors up from the laundry. It was kind of dark in there with a row of big cushy chairs in which women were sitting. At the foot of each chair was a big black rectangular basin of water. The women were soaking their bare feet the water, some with pants rolled up to mid calf. I did not want to stare so I decided to move on, but before I did I saw one man in the middle of two corpulent women. He was diminutive in stature, hunched forward with an intensity to his gaze that did not seem to fit in the indolent calm of the nail salon. He grasped at a magazine, and held in his mouth a cigarette holder in which was stuck a long unlighted white cigarette. He leaned back in his chair, but his gazed never relaxed, it was then that I was struck by how much he looked like Igor Stravinsky.