My whole life I've believe that trees are beings that involved twords the perfection and immortality.
Their language lacks the limitations of the words. They are teachers in the secret of life My feelings when I'm working the wood are indescribable with words. The wood suggest, and you just find.

The wood contains, and you just activate. The wood whispers, and i put an expression, a face, in her. As wanting to create a point of reference, to found the time, or to refute their existence. All the wood that i use to discover my instruments, is chosen after an exhaustive and meticulous exam.

Settling, density, weight, color, kind of cut, fibrosity.

Everything should be perfect to make the difference. But all this is just 50% of the difference, the other 50% is made by the conscientious work.