Tuesday, 26 October 2010
Waiting for Mermaids.
Taking Edith to the mad luthiers in the next village this afternoon. Jordi pulled off the golpeador on her guitar and all the varnish came off with it. I arrived for my class just as it has happened. Jordi on the verge of self destructing with horror, Edith, being French, insanely in control. The luthiers have their studio in the attic of a carpenter's shop. One of those Spanish set ups where nobody answers the door unless you phone first. From the outside it looks like an abandoned warehouse. These luthiers are the kind that talk to wood personally. I knew a stonemason like that once but he went mad when a painter friend took him to Barcelona and he discovered putas. He never recovered. Nor did his wife.
Anyway, I really like people that have conversations with wood and stone.