By Will Bezard
At the age of 23, I arrived at the Galloup School of Lutherie. Up until that point, I hadn’t truly succeeded at anything beyond holding down a food service job and a brief stint in a cabinet shop as a machine operator. Walking through the school doors for Sunday orientation, I felt intimidated by the institution and its staff. I had little-to-no skills related to the craft of lutherie. But I knew one thing: no matter what happened, I had to make this opportunity work. This was my chance to carve out a path to a self-supporting life.
That first term was a whirlwind. We completed two guitars: a kit guitar and the Monarch acoustic. What stands out most vividly from that time is the moment I strung up and played the Monarch for the first time. In that instant, I knew—without a doubt—that this was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. The high of hearing an instrument’s voice for the first time, knowing I had brought it into existence, was incomparable. That day, I “burned the ships” and committed fully to lutherie as a career path.
At the time, I was primarily interested in electric guitars. The Galloup curriculum, however, was geared almost exclusively toward acoustic instruments. I was initially disappointed to learn that I wouldn’t be building the school’s version of a Les Paul. But after completing the Fingerstyle Acoustic and Archtop guitar, my understanding of guitars expanded significantly.
These projects weren’t what I initially envisioned for myself, but the outcomes far exceeded my expectations. They taught me lessons I wouldn’t have explored on my own, ultimately benefiting my growth. I realized that if I truly wanted to be a luthier, I had to submit to the path and broaden my vision of what I was willing to explore.
After six months at Galloup, I left with four new guitars, a handful of skills, and a full-blown existential crisis. Despite the many job opportunities in the guitar world, I struggled to find a good fit in the Las Vegas Valley. One bright spot during this period was spending time at Neil Smith’s shop near the Las Vegas Strip. Neil is the go-to guy for serious guitarists in town, and he graciously let me hang around when we both had time, imparting valuable knowledge that stayed with me.
Eight months after leaving Galloup, I was at the end of my rope. Desperate for direction, I reached out to the school to ask about opportunities. Sam Guidry, my Fingerstyle instructor, tipped me off about an opening at Rick Turner Guitars. This was a critical fork in the road. I reached out immediately, and within two weeks, I was in Santa Cruz for an interview. Two weeks later, I moved over 500 miles away, with no friends, no family, and no place to stay. Once again, I took the leap and committed entirely to the path.
I spent nearly six years at Rick Turner Guitars, and words can hardly capture how meaningful that time was. The skills I gained and the human connections I made shaped me profoundly. Rick gave me the freedom to become proficient in every aspect of the business: lumber milling, finishing, CNC work, and even serving as shop foreman.
With a team of no more than five people, we sometimes produced over 125 guitars a year. The workload was intense, but it was deeply fulfilling. My plate was always full—overflowing, even—but it was exactly what I needed to grow as a luthier.
The end of my journey at Rick’s shop came shortly after his untimely passing. While a big part of me wanted to stay, I knew I had to move on to achieve my personal goals. Rick had supported me as best he could while enabling me to support his business, but I had reached a ceiling and needed more room to grow.
This realization led me back to Galloup, this time as an instructor. Teaching wasn’t my first idea, but I could see the unique growth opportunities that it offered. The more I grew as a luthier, the more I could give back as a teacher. It has become a symbiotic relationship, and I’ve been thrilled with how it has played out. Balancing teaching with my own pursuit of knowledge and skills has been a real challenge. I remain mindful of feedback and strive to grow in the ways that become apparent to me.
Today, I focus on preparing students for the hurdles they’ll face when embarking on their own paths. If there is anything I can do to help guide someone through challenges I’ve experienced, then I’ve done my job.
I see Bryan Galloup the same way I saw Rick Turner, and the way I see many seasoned luthiers I’ve grown close to. To me, they’re like goofy, distant guitar-uncles. And I mean that in the most endearing way. You don’t stay in this game for a lifetime without being a little off your rocker. The challenges of running a guitar business through the shifting tides of economic and cultural turbulence require a unique brand of entrepreneurialism—one that only successful luthiers possess.
What I appreciate most about working with Bryan is a concept that I’ve identified as a cornerstone of his philosophy: the idea that whatever you are doing can always be better. When I was a student, Bryan encouraged me with this idea when I struggled to accept the quality of my work at the time. This mindset, shared by everyone at Galloup, prevents me from becoming stagnant. When I inevitably slip into complacency, Bryan and the team are there to push me toward common growth and betterment.
Without the direct support of my mentors, their belief in me, and their boundless generosity, I simply wouldn’t be accomplishing what I am today. I believe I am still very much in my infancy as a maker. As I approach a decade of practice, I look back on my experiences and realize this: I am simply standing on the shoulders of giants.