Most of my best projects started the same way: somebody sat across from me with an idea they could barely describe, sometimes literally sketched on a napkin.
That’s fine. That’s how it should start.
I’m not looking for blueprints and spec sheets. I’m looking for what you actually want — the thing you picture when you close your eyes. A guitar with a certain feel. A table that fits a room and a family. A space that feels like home before the first board is cut.
Here’s how it works: you tell me the idea. I ask questions — a lot of them. What wood speaks to you? How’s it going to be used? What’s the budget, honestly? Then I go quiet for a bit and think about whether I can build it right.
And here’s my promise: if I can’t build it the way it deserves to be built, I’ll tell you. I don’t take on work I can’t stand behind. My name goes on everything I make, and I mean that literally.
But if I can build it — if I can see it in the wood already — then we’ll make something worth keeping.
So bring me the napkin. Let’s see what’s on it.