How to Make the Most of Your Wall Space

Saint Patty’s Day was yesterday, and the weather could not have been better. The recently dreariness skulked off to ruin someone else’s day, and a welcome breeze graced the shop’s open doors. I did however, banish any and all snakes looking to get something framed. Sorry, snakes.

While the shop currently runs a bit short on inebriated festivities and snakes, we have a surplus of paintings in the gallery. For roughly 33 feet of wall space we need to hang roughly 50 feet of canvas. Prevailing methods of displaying artwork tell us we are desperately short on wall space.

I’d like to elaborate a bit on how to handle this puzzle because customers often request narrow frames with the explanation “We just don’t have enough space on our walls.” Considering that in most cases a wider frame might add an inch or two on each side, something about that does not add up. The customer is of course always right, but nothing says the customer does not occasionally worry a little too much about some imagined predicaments.

In honor of March Madness, I offer this basketball analogy to guide your framing choices. Call it March “Tadness.” In the annual NBA draft, pro teams select college and international players to join and hopefully strengthen their team. The question with the NBA draft is always, do you pick to fill a hole on your team (for example, you need a point guard, so you draft a point guard), or do you pick according to the best available player (maybe you already have a good point guard, but you can draft a potential superstar point guard). Always -ALWAYS-  take the best player on the board.

And so it goes with framing. Always pick the frame that looks the best, not necessarily the frame that slides most easily into that empty slot in your living room.

When I know I have more paintings than space would apparently allow, I resolve to hang them “Salon-style.” It occurred to me I probably substitute “Salon-style” for “crowded” because it implies some time-tested, stuffy European taste, and thus allows me to pretend I have taste. Also, it sounds less like a compromise and more like a deliberate decision.

The Salon used to be nearly the only way to make a name for yourself as an artist in France, thus the overwhelmingly crowded walls. They made use of nearly every available inch to hang as much as possible. At the time it was simply out of necessity, but now any time pictures are tightly stacked on a wall, it demonstrates a tip of the hat to old European flavor.

The Salon gradually fell out of favor because the Academy collected a little too much dust and consequently became a favorite target of the avant-garde, going back to Courbet rejecting the whole affair and staging his own exhibition adjacent to the Exposition Universelle.

Even up through contemporary art the Salon proves an ample punchline, as Martin Kippenberger had some fun with the concept.

People likely resist hanging their photos and artwork in clusters at home because they go to art galleries, or especially museums, where artwork is most often presented with several feet between pieces. Certainly, one of the best ways to view and “read” a piece is to isolate it and give it sufficient space. On a functional level, curators also space paintings out that much because of the considerable foot traffic in museums and the tendency of people to queue up around particular pieces. For instance, Van Gogh’s Starry Night is going to need a lot more wall space than an emerging artist simply because a lot of people are going to huddle around the Van Gogh, potentially enough to start crowding out other pieces.

So, arranging photos and art in your home in an austere, gallery-type way isn’t altogether sensible primarily because you do not have the foot traffic of a public space.

Also, a legitimate concern exists that with everything meshing together so closely, some, if not all the pieces will get lost in the mix. It can happen, but it isn’t always so. For example, I used to live near the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore, and the room I always spent the most time in was the one presented like a 17th century chamber stuffed with natural oddities (lots of taxidermy) and some fantastic old paintings tightly arranged. One of the paintings supplies a kind of chamber within a chamber, which I have no sophisticated opinion on, just that I thought it was kind of cool.

Lastly, I want to link to a nice blog post of some very well decorated walls. I think I’ve been listening to too much Martha Stewart radio these days, because I don’t think I’ve ever been so preoccupied with wall decoration until now.

Don’t tell me you don’t have enough wall space. Make it work.

The Gilded Week

Gilding has come up a few times this week in Tadporters, which is to say, a few more times than it has since I started working here. You can check our facebook page to see a couple of the videos we’ve posted.

Gilding is the process of applying a thin layer of gold, silver, or metal leaf to a frame. Gold leaf is 24-karat gold pounded into an extremely thin sheet.

Gilding is a fascinating, labor intensive, time-honored craft. It’s remained relatively unchanged for hundreds of years, and to learn the craft, a potential gilder undertakes a five year apprenticeship. It’s basically as much of an education as a double major in undergrad.

Typically, a person would only gild if they make or repair moulding, so in a frame shop it’s merely a peripheral interest for us, like glass-making or wood-carving. It would normally only come up when some annoying little flake of leaf weasels its way onto the surface of a picture. Nonetheless, as far as peripheral interests, it’s a particularly bewitching one.

I suspect this is due to the gold involved, the material Black Elk called “the yellow metal that drives white men crazy.” It certainly has hypnotized the Western world for millennia. Minus teeth, most people would happily accept gold anything. And most people would probably accept gold teeth, too.

Gold usually connotes weight: gold bricks, rings, jewelry, etc. By contrast, gold leaf is fragile, ethereal. Metal drifting off like a feather seems more  magic trick than reality. And since gilding has existed for thousands of years it also conjures images of alchemy, pharaohs, and royalty. It’s a  mesmerizing material.

Gilding provided one of the most notable examples of satire in American history, when Mark Twain and Charles Dudley Warner labeled the late 1800s the Gilded Age.

Gilding and gold leaf also call to my mind one of my favorite art pieces, Zone de Sensibilité Picturale Immatérielle (Zone of immaterial pictorial sensibility) by Yves Klein. Essentially, Klein sold empty space (nothing) to collectors in exchange for the empty space’s value in gold leaf. They were given a receipt for their purchase, although Klein encouraged them to burn it.

Half the gold was then thrown into a river, and the other half went into paintings. Of note, one of his gold monochromes has since sold for $21,000,000. The project was tongue in cheek in a lot of ways, but it was also entirely blissed-out. It was also, along with much of Klein’s other work, foretelling of art’s direction in the subsequent years.

To bring that back around, Klein’s original inspiration to work with gold leaf spurred from his time working in a frame shop.

“And the gold, it was something! These leaves that literally fluttered with the least current of air on the flat cushion that one held in one hand, while the other hand caught them in the wind with a knife…. What a material! The illumination of matter in its deep physical quality, I came to embrace it during that year at the ‘Savage’ frame shop.” – Yves Klein



The most overlooked side of framing

Usually, when thinking about frames we think about them from the front, right? While it’s counter-intuitive, the back can offer just as much to see as the front, especially with famous works of art.

The artist Vik Muniz had an amazing show a couple years ago where he reproduced to scale, inch-by-inch, the backs of world-renowned paintings like Starry NightLes Demoiselles d’Avignon, and American Gothic. The pieces are so precisely forged it would be nearly impossible to tell them apart from the originals. Unless of course, somebody looked at the back… which would be the front of the painting… but the back of this work.

Vik Muniz

Verso (Starry Night), 2008
Mixed media object
29 x 36.25 x 12 inches

In the press release, Muniz explained:

Whenever someone wants to see if an artwork is ‘real’, the first gesture is to look at its back or at it’s base; the part of it that normally isn’t visible to anyone else but experts, dealers, museum conservators or the artists’ themselves. This happens because while the image’s objective is to remain eternally the same, its support is constantly changing, telling its story, showing its scars, its labels and periodic clichés. So when a cousin of mine told me his 7-year old could paint a Picasso, I told him ‘probably, but he couldn’t do the back’. As a teenager, I used to fix the neighbor’s TV as a hobby. I wanted to learn how to fix clocks too. Whenever something’s function is basically visual, there is always an opening in the back for the curious to do it damage.

-Vik Muniz in an unpublished interview, 2005

Here’s a link to the rest of the work.

I really wish I could see what the backs (fronts?) of those pieces. What could they be? Paintings?  Another back?

So, if the whim strikes you, turn around your frames today and see what’s going on back there.


Weird Science

Mike’s been doing some really interesting things in the shop this week (with frames of course). The saw has been buzzing, the dust has been flying, and just in time for Halloween he’s made some monster-sized frames back in his lab. Frankenstein-sized. Moving one of those beasts into place was no less of a puzzle than shipping a whale. They should be springing to life and on display any minute now.

He also just constructed an imaginative frame for the entryway to the design room. It’s a gorgeous frame in its own rite, but Mike went the extra mile and crafted a small, angled frame which, for lack of a better description, frames the frame. Only a framer could dream it up. I’ve never seen anything like it, and it’s definitely worth seeing for yourself.