There is a guitar that is not just any guitar. One that is not just wood and strings, but heart, memory, and destiny. I call that guitar The Justiciera, and it’s no coincidence.
I gave it that name because the guitar is a just instrument. Very just. It gives you what you give it. If you give it time, love, respect, it gives you back art. But if you rush it or don’t commit, it doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t give you anything. And I love that. Because it reminds me that in life and in flamenco, there are no shortcuts. La Justiciera demands truth from me, and that’s why I have so much respect for it.
It’s not just any guitar. It’s the one that has accompanied me since I began my journey as a soloist. We’ve experienced so much together… big stages, sleepless nights composing, tears, joy, travel, applause, loneliness… It’s always been there. And that’s why, when I play her, I don’t just touch strings: I touch memories, emotions, dreams that keep beating.
What I feel when I hold her in my hands depends on the moment, of course… but if there’s one thing that’s always present, it’s love. A deep love for music. It’s as if through her I could speak a language that doesn’t need words. As if I could express all that sometimes hurts or shines inside and you don’t know how to get it out. And she says it for me, with her clear voice, with its flamenco echo.
La Justiciera has been with me through key moments of my life. In the good times, when everything was flowing and it seemed like art was embracing me… and in the bad times too, when I couldn’t find a way out and she was my refuge. She’s my faithful companion, my mirror. Because when I play, she shows me who I really am, without masks.
Every time I hang her over my shoulder, I feel like something great awaits me. Not because of what comes from outside, but because of what awakens within. Because with her, I always return home: to the boy who dreamed of being a guitarist, to the man who continues searching for the note that makes his soul tingle.
Thank you, Justiciera. Long live flamenco.
—Antonio Rey
onio Rey