Naah, I'm more of a form-follows-function guy. Bauhaus aesthetics was thoroughly drilled into my head during my early years in art school. Now, when considering an artistic decision, I think back at what my Form and Structure instructor would say. In this case, I can hear him ask, "is a guitar's pure, highly-evolved form so deficient, so uninteresting, that it needs all that pretty stuff lathered onto it?" I know he'd berate all those objet d'art guitars pictured in those upscale wet-dream guitar magazines, dripping with glistening pearl and abalone acanthus leaves and Parthenon scrolls, all slithering up and down the fingerboard and headstock--and drooling over onto the back and sides. He'd berate them in the same way. It's so...it's so...nineteenth century! A guitar's pure form isn't beautiful enough for you? Noo--you gotta trowel on some of that pretty stuff. NOW it's really pretty.
Well maybe the Rohrschach wood is okay 'cause--well, it's nature, isn't it? If its from a burl--like the above--its really cut from a monster knot the wood grows around a wound, or just a vegetable cancer growth. Not exactly the kind of Nature you'd like to warm up to. Or if its wild wood from a stump, it grows that way so the tree won't tip over when the wind blows. So that means all that skittish tension wood should be built into something that absolutely-positively must be dimensionally stable? A fine recipe for an eventual wall-hanging!
When wood gets to look like that sample above, its fiber structure gets to approximate something like oatmeal: nothing like the orderly array of long, relaxed fibers that you imagine all those mathematically-organized harmonics would choose to travel across, unimpeded and unhindered, hither and fro.
No, I know it doesn't do that. I'm just imagining. But I remember what happened in my early days when I thought it would be bitchin' to have crazy wood all over my guitar: I had to super-glue 10,000 splits in the side after bending them, and then several years later I had to replace the back after the plates cycled through several climate changes and seasons, when that cool oatmeal-wood actually began to look like lumpy oatmeal. A bitter lesson: that very kewel oatmeal-wood is not just awesome--it's big trouble.