Amélie Bouvret writes this about her unique art:
I am drawn to warm, deep tones, with a direct, precise and firmly grounded bass response. In the treble, I look for that same warmth and roundness, while retaining precision.
My goal is to find a balance that allows the guitar to develop a harmonious, singing melodic line, without harshness or coldness. I like the sound to breathe, the phrasing to feel natural, and the notes to flow effortlessly from one to the next, without ever forcing the expression. To me, a guitar should be able to sing on its own.
This is the pursuit that guides my choices, and it is what I hope to find from one guitar to the next. Beyond the individual character of each instrument, there are certain qualities I particularly value and want to preserve. Above all, I want the fundamental tones to remain clearly present, without being overshadowed by the harmonics, but without dominating to the point of impoverishing the sound either. Both should coexist naturally, each finding its rightful place, with a beautiful sense of sustain. I am looking for a sound that retains its depth and substance, while allowing the harmonics to contribute their richness and color.
This same idea of balance also shapes the way I approach the neck. I like to carve relatively slim neck profiles that allow guitarist to play for hours without fatigue, almost without noticing the passage of time. I want the hand to remain free, the playing to feel natural, and the instrument never to become an obstacle. But comfort cannot be considered in isolation: the thickness and profile of the neck also influence the guitar’s response and harmonic balance. The challenge, therefore, is to find the right middle ground, one that brings together playing comfort and the desired tonal result.
Ultimately, I always come back to the same idea: everything is a question of balance. Between fundamentals and harmonics, warmth and precision, roundness and definition, playing comfort and acoustic response. These are the balances that give an instrument its coherence, and they are what I try to achieve in each of my guitars.
But I must also acknowledge that intuition and personal feeling play a significant role in the creation of every instrument. There are so many variables, and the interactions between different choices are so complex, that eventually analysis alone is no longer enough. When I find myself getting lost in my own thoughts, trying to understand and anticipate every possible consequence, I eventually let my instincts and impressions take over. This is a more intuitive aspect of the work, difficult to explain or quantify, but one that I believe is essential. With experience, I am learning to trust it, without abandoning reason and careful consideration.
To be completely honest, I know there are fundamental principles that guide the decisions we make as luthiers. We cannot ask everything of a single instrument, nor can we ignore the realities of acoustics and mechanics. But that is precisely what makes the work so interesting: understanding these constraints, assessing the influence of each decision, and finding the right compromises without ever losing sight of the sound we have in mind. And sometimes, when theory can take us no further, we also need to know how to listen to our own instincts.
I am not necessarily looking for a spectacular sound, but for one that feels right: alive, full of character, and naturally balanced in every respect. What matters to me is this sense of coherence, the existence of a genuine thread connecting the instrument’s design, its playability, and the sound it produces. A guitar that does not try too hard to impress but has a voice of its own and simply makes you want to play.
My guitars can sometimes be demanding, perhaps even a little complex at first. But I believe that this is part of their personality. I like the idea that they require time to be discovered and understood, and that the player needs to find their own bearings with them. Then, at some point, something happens. The movements become natural, the musician stops questioning every gesture, and the guitar begins to respond as though it were being guided effortlessly.
This is, in a way, what I seek to achieve with each of my instruments: that they have their own character and sensitivity, yet once they have been understood and mastered, they allow the musician to express themselves freely, without having to fight the instrument. So that, in the end, all that remains is the pleasure of playing, the sound, and the emotion.