Dare To Know – Dare To Create

You know that moment when you pick up a guitar and it just sings?

Not because it’s expensive or famous or technically perfect—but because something in it speaks directly to something in you?

I’ve spent 26 years chasing that magic.

And as we approach the 10-year anniversary of the Luthier’s EDGE, I’ve been reflecting on what we’ve discovered together—walking alongside thousands of you on your journeys, through victories and setbacks, breakthroughs and frustrations.

What I’ve learned has reshaped how I build, how I teach, and how I think about our craft.

But insights only matter if we can hold onto them—if we can return to them in those moments of doubt or confusion.

So I’ve been searching for a way to capture that truth. Something we can carry with us. Something that calls us back to what matters when we’re lost in the weeds of a difficult build.

That search led me to recognize a powerful rhythm—a kind of heartbeat underlying all great art.

It moves in two distinct phases that must exist in balance, like day and night.

To give voice to that rhythm, I created a motto—two Latin phrases that capture what many of us learn the hard way, and what some, sadly, never discover:

Sapere Aude – Creare Aude
Dare to Know – Dare to Create

This is our motto.
Our rhythm.
Our way forward.

And it’s more than a slogan—it’s a compass.

A way to understand why some guitars come alive in our hands…

and why others—built with the same tools, the same wood, the same techniques—fall flat.

Picture this: It’s late in your shop. You’re measuring that X brace for the third time. Your calipers say it’s perfect. Your calculations confirm it. But something in your gut says it’s not quite right.

Sound familiar?

We’ve all been there—caught between what we know and what we feel.

And here’s what took me years to understand:

That tension you’re feeling? It’s not a problem. It’s the key to everything.

The phrase Sapere Aude comes from the Latin poet Horace, but it was philosopher Immanuel Kant who brought it to life during the Enlightenment.

He used it to encourage people to think for themselves—to stop depending on external authority and instead trust their own ability to understand, reason, and decide.

In our craft, this is when we measure, calculate, and analyze. We study the physics of sound and the properties of wood. We learn from the masters who came before us. We think carefully. We seek clarity and truth.

But this only lays the foundation, and foundations aren’t houses (or guitars).

And knowing isn’t creating.

I still remember the moment this became clear to me. College 1998. Jazz guitar performance class. Twenty students, all demonstrating the same progression, the same substitutions, the same scales.

Technically, we were perfect.
Every note in place.
Every change on time.

But it sounded like robots executing jazz.

The notes were there, but the music wasn’t.

Then one student stopped. Set down his pick. Closed his eyes. Took a breath. And when he played again, the whole room changed…

Same progression.
Same notes.

But now the music had weight.

It had story.
It had Life.

Looking back, I realize now:

He had shifted from Sapere Aude to Creare Aude

From daring to know, to daring to create.

Today, we have tools our lutherie ancestors couldn’t dream of. Lasers. CNCs. Frequency analyzers. Computer modeling. We can know more than ever before.

But here’s the trap: The more we can measure, the more we tend to measure.

And slowly, without realizing it, we start building guitars with our heads instead of our hands.

I’ve been there…

Spending days perfecting a measurement that no player would ever notice. Beginning to drift toward building by numbers alone.

Catching myself as the joy started draining from my work, as I became lost in calculations and logic instead of listening to the wood.

Maybe you’ve felt it too—that creeping sense that you’re becoming a technician instead of an artist.

That your guitars are getting more accurate but less alive.

Or maybe you’ve swung the other way…

Rejected all the measuring and planning.
Built purely by instinct.

And found yourself frustrated when you lack consistency, confidence, or can’t recreate that one magical guitar.

Both paths lead to the same place:

Guitars that don’t quite sing.

So how do we find the balance? How do we know when to measure and when to just trust and create?

After all these years, I’ve discovered something simple: Your body knows.

When you’ve been calculating and planning for hours and you notice your jaw is clenched, your shoulders are tight, you’re holding your breath—that’s a signal.

Here’s what I do now: Before I move from planning to building, I sometimes literally step back. I take a few deep breaths. I shake out my hands.

Like a musician tuning up before playing, I’m tuning myself to shift from knowing to creating.

Try this tomorrow:

Spend your morning in Sapere Aude.

Measure and mark.
Check your calculations.
Get everything dialed in.

Then pause…

Breathe.

Be present where you are.

Then, trust your hands and heart to translate that knowledge into something more.

And create your art.

Because here’s the secret: Creare Aude doesn’t mean abandoning what you’ve learned.

It means letting that knowledge flow through you from a deeper place.

Building from your own center rather than from someone else’s rules.

Think of it like breathing…
You can’t just inhale forever. And you can’t just exhale.

It’s the rhythm that keeps you alive.

That’s exactly what this is:

Sapere Aude—inhale. Take in knowledge. Study. Measure. Understand.
Creare Aude—exhale. Let it flow out through your hands. Build. Express. Trust.

This rhythm is what creates guitars that don’t just play notes but tell stories.

Guitars that don’t just have tone but have voice.

Guitars that feel alive because they were built by someone fully alive to both phases of the craft.

As we mark 10 years of the Luthier’s EDGE together, I keep thinking about all the guitars you’ve built, all the challenges you’ve overcome, all the moments you’ve pushed through doubt to create something beautiful.

This new motto—Sapere Aude – Creare Aude—isn’t really new at all.

It’s what the best of us have been endeavoring to do all along.

Now we just have words for it.

So here’s my question: Where are you right now?

If you’ve been researching and planning for weeks, feeling paralyzed by options—maybe tomorrow is the day to trust what you know and start creating.

If you’ve been building by feel but struggling with confidence or consistency—maybe it’s time to slow down and understand the “why” behind your choices.

Remember: Your best guitar isn’t the one with perfect measurements or the one built purely on instinct.

It’s the one built with both—knowledge and intuition, precision and expression, mind and heart.

Sapere Aude – Creare Aude

This is our path.
This is our practice.

And after 10 years of walking it together, I can promise you this:

Your best work truly is still ahead.

Together, let’s build guitars that sing and that make a difference in our lives and the lives of others as we dare to know and dare to create.

– Tom Bills