Fifty Years of Framing

Part One

On this very day in 1969 I began what has resulted in a most satisfying and creative journey of fifty years (and counting).

I was 23 years old, and other than babysitting in high school, selling my own artwork at outdoor art and craft shows, as well as a brief stint as an unenthusiastic purveyor of Parklane jewelry at home parties, I had never been employed in a real job.  I was bored.

One day I found a classified ad in a Buffalo paper – it listed an address on Allen Street and stated “Must be artistic.”  Figuring I would be a shoo-in, I strolled into the little gallery at around 3 o’clock in the afternoon.  I was greeted by an overenthusiastic Weimaraner (I believe his name was "Get down, Axel!") and the quintessential grumpy old man.  I told the man I was there for the advertised job.

“You should have been here this morning at 9 o’clock!” he shouted, “I already hired someone.”  I was a bit taken aback by his outburst, but the place seemed interesting, so as long as I was there, I began looking around.

The ad had only mentioned the street address, not the name of the business, and I had not noticed the name when I had entered.  As I was nosing around I found business cards which read “Buffalo Picture Frame & Mirror.”

“This is Buffalo Picture Frame?” I blurted.  The man looked at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.

“My uncle works at Buffalo Picture Frame,” I continued lamely.

He started, and then in a voice dripping with suspicion, growled, “Who’s your uncle?”

“Bob McPherson,” I replied.  Uncle Bob had worked there for many years.

“Bob didn’t tell me his niece was looking for a job!” he exclaimed.  He took a few seconds to reconsider the situation and then  then asked me for my phone number in case his new hire did not pan out.

And that is how I met the inimitable Jason S. Natowitz – Army sharpshooter, pharmaceutical salesman, accredited inventor of department store Santa photographs, and the founding father  of the Allentown Art Festival.  He was a man of many talents.

Kramer the Framer, original Artist Proof by Charles Bragg.  This is the first frame I ever bought from Jason (it had been an "oops" frame) and I still love it.  And aside from his bushy moustache, Kramer has always reminded me of Jason (Jason's moustache was always neatly clipped).  The rest of the details of the image are spot on for Buffalo Picture Frame in those days.

Jason phoned me the next morning and instructed me to report for work the following Monday.  Turns out the woman he had hired had never even gotten off of her bus when she saw the old boarded-up building on William Street.  Not exactly the trendy Allentown address where either of us had expected to be working.

I started at minimum wage, $1.55 per hour, and I envisioned being able to spend this small fortune on expanding my horse collection.  My first week’s pay did indeed go to the acquisition of a beautiful Italian alabaster horse head that I had spied in the window of a cluttered little antique store across the street from Jason’s gallery.

From then on my wages went for household expenses and new horses were few and far between.  I barely noticed, however, because as the horses were shelved, the love of picture framing took over my life.

The first mystery I was initiated into was how the picture is installed into the frame.  I was put to work at the fitting table.  There I learned to clean the glass, use the ancient Red Devil diamond point driver to fasten the framing package into the frame, and apply paper and screw eyes and wire to the back. 

It still works and I use it when no other tool will do the trick.

Soon I was cutting the backing boards, and then dry mounting was added to my duties, and finally the Holy Grail – mat cutting on the Keaton Kutter and the Springfield oval cutter.  I was also taught how to cut glass by hand and eventually how to cover mats and liners with beautiful silks, linens, and velvets.

Jason had bought the business in the fifties and in those days framers did not deign to share trade secrets so he was pretty much on his own, making things up as he went along.  When he encountered a problem, he engineered a solution – he was a creative genius and even with the non-archival materials available to us back then, a great designer and picture framer.  Granted, some of the techniques he devised would cause a modern framer to faint dead away – but he tried his best.

Jason S. Natowitz and Darryl's predecessor, Jay, early 70's.

I still use many of Jason’s techniques today.  Fifteen years ago I attended a fabric workshop presented by our industry’s top fabric guy, and I was astounded to be shown Jason’s exact process, step by step.  The only difference was modern fabric glue instead of generic white glue, and rag matboard instead of wood pulp board.

Despite the dank windowless firetrap we were working in, the gang of us got along remarkably well.  Ceil, the previous owner-turned-bookkeeper guided us when she could in the front and provided delicious cakes for birthdays and holidays.  Helga was the other fitter, Lance (aka “Sinus”) was our often-absent Manager, and my Uncle Bob worked upstairs restoring paintings alongside the talented but color-blind Bruno who gold-leafed and finished length moulding.

There were several guys who worked in the back room, cutting and joining frames.  They came and went but after Lance departed, Darryl became the Manager, and we had fun almost every day, especially when Jason was not fussing over our shoulders and stinking up the place with his disgusting cigars.  Fortunately, he spent most of his time on Allen Street and only came to the workshop to pick up and drop off orders.

I worked there until the end of 1971 because, thanks to the glass guy, I was recruited away to work at Bond’s in Williamsville.  But that is another story.

. . . to be continued . . .

When Worlds Collide

A funny thing about framing – while there may be many thousands of approaches to the framing of the unending variety of two-dimensional “stuff” people bring in to a frame shop, folks always seem to want the same style of framing that they have always seen.  Maybe it’s just me, but after almost fifty years as a framer, I have found that birds and botanicals generally end up in traditional gold or dark wood frames with cream colored or deep green matting; watercolors find themselves in simple white mats and plain black or natural wood frames (especially if the artist is framing for a show); larger paintings (realistic or abstract, prints or canvas) seem to go home matching the sofa or woodwork.  I could go on, but I won't.  (You're welcome.)

 

But when it comes to the framing of posters, photos, tickets, autographs, and the like from any area of Fandom (movies, TV shows, bands, and even sports) – framing is usually chosen to match the items themselves.  For instance, team colors always go on various sports memorabilia (bores me to tears . . .).

Bands have been selling merch for years – I have framed   posters, photographs, guitar picks, drum sticks, set lists, serigraphs, tee shirts, album covers, ticket stubs, wrist bands, and backstage passes from classics such as Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead to current performers who produce high quality limited edition posters.  Fans pay a premium for tickets to these concerts, sometimes traveling great distances to attend events, and they want to remember every detail.  So fabulous framing is a must.

Of course I have been framing my own stuff for all these years and my collection has fallen into five primary categories: relatives, cats, horses, pop culture, and art.    Some framed pieces have been on my walls since I was a child.  Oh, and I have some of my own artwork as well.  I am running out of wall space and therefore my latest additions have shrunk from poster size to postcard size (and even smaller).

My pop culture heroes have come and gone over the years; I have a couple of little pictures of Indiana Jones and Han Solo (Harrison Ford), and my favorite image of Ross and Demelza (Robin Ellis and Angharad Rees) from the original Poldark that I stuck into simple frames and which have been on my wall for decades.

Then, a few years back, full blown Robin of Sherwood Fandom arose in my brain and I bought a nice little painting of Herne the Hunter from a fellow member of the show’s Facebook fan group.  Nice prints of drawings of Robin and Marion (Michael Praed and Judi Trott) followed, and then on ebay I found the lovely promotional postcards from the series.  I framed all of these images in shades of cool greens with rustic/Ren Faire frames to hint at Sherwood Forest.

Robin and Marion by Carmen Modde

Herne the Hunter by Iain Chinn

Michael Praed as Robin of Loxley

After a decent interval, I fell in love with the TV series Haven and framed a little print of Duke Crocker (actor Eric Balfour) plus a temporary tattoo (adhered to clear Mylar) of the Guard symbol/Haven logo in a driftwood frame (to match the weather-beaten seaside landscape where the series was filmed and Duke's bar, The Gull).

Eric Balfour as Duke Crocker on Haven

And then along came Doctor Who with its bonus attraction, Captain Jack Harkness of Torchwood, and the beginnings of which I described here, in my last typically verbose post: https://tiltingatwoodpeckers.blogspot.com/2018/10/help-ive-fallen-into-tardis-again-and.html

Tom Baker had always been my favorite Doctor – and he was my “First Doctor.”  I spent a lot of time searching images of Tom to make a little print to frame.  I needed two very important aspects of Tom to be in the photo – his smile and his scarf.  The curly hair was a plus.  I rummaged through my personal private frame collection, and I cannot remember where it had come from originally, but the wood frame with the colored stripe inlaid at the bottom struck me as perfect.  All I had to do is sand off the glossy finish on the inlay, add the proper colors here and there, and then cut a narrow TARDIS blue mat (Bainbridge Indigo #8526).

Tom Baker as the Fourth Doctor

By the time I completed the Fourth Doctor frame I had finished watching David Tennant's Tenth Doctor’s series with his third companion, Donna Noble (Catherine Tate).  The CD of Series Four, which could be blamed for starting my entire episode of Whovian madness, included a lovely photo of Donna from the “Planet of the Ood”.  I printed up a copy of it and, wow – I found the perfect golden wood frame (The color matches the highlights in Donna’s fabulous red mane), cut a TARDIS blue mat – and it looks amazing.

Catherine Tate as Donna Noble (DoctorDonna)

Then I discovered little trading-card size magnets in one of the DVDs.  I found a frame in my stash that was the perfect size, so I painted it TARDIS blue and added a two-opening mat so both Ten and the TARDIS cards could be seen.

David Tennant as the Tenth Doctor and his TARDIS

My next prize was the Alice X. Zhang drawing that I found on the cover of a Doctor Who comic for David Tennant’s Tenth Doctor.  I had planned on framing the entire cover, but discovered to my delight that there was a full page reproduction of the cover drawing included in the comic – but with no writing on it!

I ordered a frame for it that should have been absolutely perfect – it had seemingly random squiggles carved into the frame and the color was a perfect combination of warm cream, gold, and red.  Unfortunately the frame company had changed manufacturers and, alas, the frame no longer matched my sample.  It was too pale, too regular.  Not wibbly wobbly at all!

See how awful this frame is compared to my sample?

I went to work on the frame, determined to somehow make it match the artwork.  I painted it blue.  I scraped some of the blue off.  I went over the blue with dark green, red, cad yellow, and blue again.  I sanded it, I scratched it up, I added paint – I subtracted paint.  Finally with a TARDIS blue mat, I installed the print and it was good.  A perfect wibbly wobbly timey wimey frame!

Ten by Alice X. Zhang

I kept thinking my grouping was finished but then the first Torchwood sound track arrived and within was the best photograph of Captain Jack I had ever seen.  It had all my favorite Captain Jack elements – penetrating blue eyes, hint of a smile, and, of course, the greatcoat.  The only thing I found myself annoyed with was his hair which was far too neat. So I printed a copy of the photo, and worked at tousling up his hair with some Prismacolors.  Made the eyes a bit bluer, and colored the coat a bit closer to gray-blue.  Then I got the brilliant idea to add a TARDIS blue hexagonal mat, to echo the Torchwood logo.  For the frame I found another in my stash, flat, wide, grainy stone kind of finish, with crumbling edges.  I repainted this a steely silvery gray, so it gives an appearance of strength with a sense of timelessness (not unlike Jack!). (“IN THESE STONES HORIZONS SING.”)

John Barrowman as Captain Jack Harkness in Torchwood

By this time I had finished watching the Peter Capaldi run as the Twelfth Doctor.  As his song was ending I realized I had grown quite fond of his take on the role.  I went hunting and found the perfect photo of him from the last episode, when he appeared weary yet still strong, and his hair was out of control.  Of course I found another perfect frame in my collection, and I painted it to pick up the silvery blues in the photo (hair and eyes).  The style of the frame itself is a nod to the first role Capaldi played in the Who reboots (and the Twelfth Doctor’s answer to “Why did I choose this face?”) – in Ten’s “Fires of Pompeii”.  It has the appearance of ancient Roman architecture.

Peter Capaldi as the Twelfth Doctor

So this is what happens when a passionate and slightly crazy picture framer frames her own collection from various fandoms. God help me if I ever make it to a Con and meet any of these icons of mine in person - I will need a bigger house with even more wall space!

A Scratch and Dental Meditation

A good picture framer always strives to send out finished framing jobs as close to perfection as is humanly possible.  The frame must be flawless, the glass must be sparkling, and the matting must be free of any stray specks or cat hairs (heh heh heh).  With a shop cat in residence, my frames always leave in pristine condition, even if I have to take them apart several times and redo them.  My shop may be an unholy mess but my frame jobs are always impeccable in the end.

Several years ago I framed a show for one of my very favorite photographers.  It hung at the Burchfield-Penney so the smooth black frames with their brilliant white matting arrived at the gallery in mint condition.  Some of the pieces were sold but most of the frames were stored until she brought them back to me to be re-used for her upcoming exhibition at Nichols School.

At first glance, it appeared as though we had fifteen good used frames and needed only five new ones for the new show.  Upon closer examination, however, most of the original frames had suffered due to moving, jostling, and storage.  There were many scratches and dents which could not be repaired.

I messaged her: 

 

Good news versus bad news. Of the 15 frames you brought in, I can really only reuse 3 - the rest are scratched and gouged all to pieces - and as picky as you are about your printing, so am I picky about your frames. The good news is all 15 mats/glass/backings are OK.

She pondered this over the weekend and phoned me the following Tuesday.  We decided that if it were possible, I would make the frames even more scratched and dented—all of them.  All twenty of them.

Backstory:  the photographer is Missy Kennedy Cleary, known far and wide for her amazing photographs of children, women, families, horses and dogs.  Dogs are her special passion—she is surely a dog whisperer; and she has long been associated with the Erie County SPCA.  Every animal she has photographed for them finds forever homes as soon as the portraits go up on their website.

 

In the shelter world, animals who have been longtime residents of the system (through the fault of their own horrid or unknowable backstories) become harder and harder to place the longer they are in residence.  They lose hope, hang back, hiding from potential adopters—they have given up on ever finding their own humans to love.  Some shelters call these dejected creatures the “scratch and dents”—they are perfectly good on the inside but maybe not be “show ring” perfect on the outside.  They need a little work and a lot of patience and love.  And that’s when Missy steps in and brings out the best in them.  Missy sees beneath the sadness and fear and soon enough hopeful eyes and uppy ears and even the hesitant wag of the tail appear and, as if by magic, their lingering suspicions are completely erased.  Her unconditional love and photographic expertise bring out the best in any creature she has ever photographed (well, except for my parents—but that is another story for another day).

For this show Missy collected all of her favorites and had way too much fun playing with them in Photoshop—going into full Lichtenstein/Warhol mode with a riot of color and texture—or echoing vintage etchings with just a hint of line and shape and tone.

 

It took me a while to find the perfect tool for the "scratch and dental" procedure.  I consulted my framer friends from around the world, and one homemade tool worked especially well on my sample of moulding.  After all these years of producing perfection, I must admit I had fun beating up these frames.  And they turned out great. 

Mama Lucy, Shop Cat, tried to help with the scratching part.

Framing wire strung with every bolt in my collection did the trick.

I adore all of these photographs, but here are some of my very favorites.  I wonder if one day my kitties would  allow me to adopt a dog.

All ready for the show!

Missy and her daughter picked up all twenty of the frames and loaded them into the back of her SUV.  The next day she was to deliver them to the school for the show.  Unfortunately, the next morning is when I received this message from her:

 

Had a complete catastrophe

6 came flying out of the car and broke

I want to jump off a cliff

Oh noes!

 Luckily for all, back when I was still seeking absolute perfection, I had ordered extra of these smooth black frames and as it turns out, I had exactly six, all ready to be beaten up and fitted.  Only one mat was lost, two pieces of glass were shattered, and none of the prints were damaged at all.  Whew!  MarGyver triumphs again!