Sunday, November 30, 2014

The Penny-Pinching Artist: Framing Need Not Be Murder (By Price Tag)

I have it from the mouth of a professional framer: Michael’s frame jobs are overpriced. Smaller shops like his don’t exactly run cheap, either. So, can artists with limited budgets really do quality framing on their own? My reply:

  



Full disclosure: a year ago, I didn’t even know what a “mat” was, nor did I have any concept of framing as an art unto itself. To me, a frame was a utilitarian object with which one could attach artwork to the wall more efficiently than with putty or nails. I have since been reformed, thanks in large part to being lovingly nagged into doing a solo art show.

Since I’m not able to make frames from scratch, I rely on second-hand ones from Goodwill and other thrifty sources. On average, they cost about $6. I prefer wood or wood composite for look and overall ease of use. (Have you ever tried screwing something into a metal frame?) My experience is limited, but here are some things I’ve learned:

What You’ll Need

Pliers and hammer—many uses in removing old contents of frames and putting in the new

Lemon oil furniture polish—improves appearance of wood frames

Mat—that cardboard-y frame thing that goes between the art and the glass

Backing (my name)—that cardboard-y sheet that goes behind the artwork to protect and hold it in the frame

IMPORTANT NOTE: Canvas artworks like oils and acrylics generally don’t need glass, mats, or backing, but more fragile ones like watercolors, pastels, and pencils do.

Offset screws—a delightful invention that can be flipped around to attach an artwork that sticks out of the frame or sinks down into it



Electric drill—for the screws…unless you have fingers of iron

Dust cover (my name)—the sheet of brown (or whatever) color paper that covers the entire back of the frame and artwork



Elmer’s glue or double-sided tape—for attaching dust cover

X-acto knife and/or scissors—for cutting paper

Vent hole (my name)—a small hole in the dust cover (only necessary for canvas artworks like oils and maybe acrylics) that lets the canvas breathe

Eyelet screws (my name)—screws with looped heads that hold wire



D-rings—screws with rings attached, more “high-class” than eyelet screws


Picture-hanging wire—multi-strand wire, more durable than baling wire or string




How to Pick the Right Frame

Bring a tape measure. If framing a canvas, measure the back inside edge of the frame. If working with a piece that needs glass and mat, measure the inside edge of the mat. Mats are particularly difficult to find in the right size. If you have the ability to cut your own, I applaud you. Mine usually turn out looking like chainsaw art. Sometimes I buy a frame just to get the mat inside.

Test the solidness of the frame by tugging the sides to see if the corners are loose.

Ask yourself some questions:

Does the color and design of the frame and mat match or compliment the color and design of the artwork? Wood can be stained a new shade, and mats can be painted a new color, but it’s nice to be able to work with the original.

Does the size/color/decoration of the frame and mat overwhelm the artwork?

(Not my art) Too much frame and mat
(My art) Better balanced
(My art) Too little frame--and no mat

Assembly

Because there are plenty of helpful instructions on the Internet and elsewhere for how to frame things yourself, I won’t do a step-by-step. I’ll just mention a few handy tips you might not learn on the Internet.

Scratches in a frame can be corrected with markers or a dab of acrylic paint.

Make sure the frame is thick enough so the screws don’t poke through to the other side, and wide enough so nothing hangs over the edge.

Drill carefully; some wood might crack.

Double-sided tape is the cleanest way to apply the paper dust cover, but sometimes it doesn’t adhere properly, so test a little piece before you lay it all the way around.

If the dust cover is curling crazily and you can’t get it to stick, try pressing it against a flat surface like a table or door, and rubbing it down with a wet cloth to smooth it out. This will also help it dry tight. A friend of mine recommended completely soaking the paper in water, but I haven’t gone that extreme yet.

I was told to use an x-acto knife to trim the edges of the dust cover, but that ended up looking messy most of the time. I find it easier to just use scissors. The main goal is to make sure none of the dust cover shows over the edge of the frame. An x-acto knife is good for making the vent hole—just don’t cut too deep!

D-rings are the “official” hanging apparatus, and art shows and galleries are likely to require them. However, eyelet screws are much more economical. They can be a little hard to put in. My method is to pound a small nail into the spot (maybe 1/4 inch deep), pry that up, then twist the screw in with my fingers and the rest of the way with pliers.

I think there might be some disagreement in the art-framing world as to whether vent-holes are necessary, but I figure they can’t hurt. The professional framer I referenced earlier didn’t think dust covers were even necessary for canvases. I take objection; I’ve had to clean them.


There’s a basic concept that applies to all framing jobs: the frame is there to enhance the artwork. The frame can command attention, but only so it can draw the eye inward toward the picture. If the frame retains attention, then it has failed its purpose. It might seem unfair after all the work—and sometimes physical pain—it took to put that frame together. But the truth is that a frame is most beautiful when it is barely noticed, except as a seamless piece of the greater work of art.

“He must increase, but I must decrease.” –John the Baptist, speaking of Jesus (John 3:30)

…That they may adorn the doctrine of God our Savior in all things. –St. Paul, in a word to servants (Titus 2:10)

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Crunch Week: Pros and Cons of being 100% Focused

My trademark self-portrait.
Note that I have two things in hand at once.
Last Monday, I finally emerged from my cave and began to feel sane again.

I had spent the previous week trying to work exclusively on one project. I had a deadline to write a synopsis of my current novel-in-progress, which was complicated by the fact that I still hadn’t quite figured how I was going to work everything out in the end.
So, I gave myself completely to getting it done. All my free time, all my mental energy, went into the pounding, grinding, hair-pulling, eye-rolling, excruciating task of coming up with a story worth reading. All lesser concerns were pushed aside. If I took something out of a drawer, it got tossed to the side. Clean clothes piled up on the end of my bed, looking dejected. I didn’t cut my nails. Purses were dropped in corners. Papers lay in haphazard piles. I snapped and grumbled at family members who dared interrupt me. If I had to be away from the novel for a while, I was still thinking about it, running the possibilities through my head, testing scenarios. My brain ached. One time, when I woke up at midnight for no apparent reason, I powered up my laptop and did a few more hours of work. Small wonder I felt a bit like the undead the next morning.
So, that was Crunch Week.
Interestingly enough, it was on the one day I rested from my work (because I believe in the principle of taking a Sabbath), that I had some of the best ideas come together in my mind. I emerged from the ordeal of Crunch Week with one thought: “I’m so glad that’s over!” I felt wretched, my room looked like the aftermath of a small tornado, and, oh yeah…I didn’t even make the deadline.
I finished the synopsis this week at a more relaxed and happy pace.

The good parts of Crunch Week were:
1. I never had to wonder what I should be doing. I didn’t waste any time lapsing into daydreams while considering the twenty different projects around me.
2. I did make some significant accomplishments. This novel has been my love/hate project for the last, what—six years? So, to FINALLY have a DECISIVE version of the plot is a huge relief.
3. My normal lifestyle feels so sweet now.

I have to conclude that I have a scattered mind and I like it that way. I seem to function best in multi-project mode—if I have several plates spinning, I feel more alert, competent…and it’s just plain fun. If I overdo it and start dropping plates, a day or two of intense focus on doing just one thing ’til it’s done can be helpful, but a whole week makes my mental machinery start to overheat, the gears screeching and smoking. I like having the freedom to go from wielding a paintbrush, to typing out a suspenseful scene, to sketching a few humorous pages for a sometime-in-the-future graphic novel, to making a get-well card—all in the same day. It can be a chaotic and exasperating life sometimes, but that’s the point: it feels like life. Not like being a growling zombie fortified in her woman-cave.


Maybe I should do a Crunch Week once or twice a year—just to remind me why I like being scatterbrained.