Slight banana
The head traces a gentle curve. Wrists hinge a little. A face that refuses to open on the way back will fight that curve until June.
Syracuse, New York · putting-arc atelier
Arc Putt chalks the stroke living in your wrists before anyone mentions a hosel. If the toe drop disagrees with that chalk, the head is the argument — not your hands. We start on the floor. The head comes second.
The claim
Shops that begin with a toe number are starting in the middle of the sentence. A blade that drops forty degrees is not a personality. It is hardware that wants a banana on the floor. A face that sits quiet wants a rail. If your wrists already draw one of those shapes, buying the other is a winter of three-putts on Onondaga County poa.
We lay copper ticks on maple, photograph the head at five stations, and only then open the drawer. Charleston hang rails and Memphis mallet bays do different work. Here the floor is the instrument.
Three families we keep seeing
The head traces a gentle curve. Wrists hinge a little. A face that refuses to open on the way back will fight that curve until June.
The head never leaves a painted line. A toe that wants to drop will invent rotation you did not ask for. Quiet faces belong here.
Once the chalk is honest, hang is just the number that agrees. Length and grip can move the radius; they do not replace the tape.
216 S Salina, Suite 3
The maple was milled for this room in 2014. Lake-effect winters keep the indoor lane honest. June brings poa from the county nines we actually play. We do not pretend a roll-out mat in a strip mall is either of those.
“They made me putt on chalk before they let me touch a mallet. The banana was already there. The drawer just finally agreed.”
Floor voices
Most walk-ins arrive with a head they bought because a friend liked the sightline. We tape first. If the friend’s banana is not yours, the sightline is furniture. More letters live on Floor Voices.