Believe it or not, there is a story here.

In the field next to my school on the way back from gym class one day, I found a whole bunch of pieces of smashed wood.  I thought it was odd that they were varnished, flat and had rounded edges, there was one abandoned fret board lying on the ground with them and that one especially large rounded piece was tied to a tree with guitar strings.

Then it clicked.

I spent the rest of the day finding the remaining pieces of smashed guitar from people that had picked pieces of wood up from the ground, and then I went home, and spent two weeks with super glue in my back yard.

I don't know why I do these things.  I must be crazy.  There is no other explanation.

When I had successfully glued together as many pieces as possible, I realized I had extra paint, and the guitar's soul was broken anyway, so I may as well make it look cool, so my friend and I spent about half an hour splashing paint on the broken guitar.

'Twas fun.

I guess it could be considered art, but I mostly think it's greatly symbolic.