Framing a Benjamin Williams Leader Landscape

Just finished framing this spectacular 1875 Alpine landscape oil painting by British artist Benjamin Williams Leader (1831 - 1923), titled "The Wetterhorn from Rosenlaui." At 72" x 60" it has a powerful presence (see last photo for scale). Commissioned by a Member of Parliament, John Derby Allcroft, the year it was painted it was displayed at the Royal Academy, where Leader's work was shown in every summer exhibition from 1854 through 1922.

We made a 6" wide stained quartersawn white oak compound frame with a chamfered mortise-and-tenon flat and gilt oak liner. The chamfer has carved points that articulate the corners with a detail that also picks up a form pervasive in the painting.

Corner detail

Below is the painting in its old Victorian makeshift frame—a conventional 19th century exhibition frame heavy on compo (molded plaster-like material meant to pass itself off as carving).

Clearly influenced by John Ruskin's pleas to painters to go to nature, to see her both truly and reverently—and sharing with Ruskin a passion for the Swiss Alps—Leader contributed in his way to the great project of re-framing art, led by Ruskin and the Pre-Raphaelites. I wonder if, while breaking with convention on the canvas itself, he followed the Pre-Raphaelites, Whistler and others to make his ideals real in the form of the picture frame itself. If so, I hope our efforts would have met with his approval.

This is the third Leader we've had the privilege of framing. Another is on my site, here.

The painting with Eric Johnson next to it to give a sense of scale (Eric's over 6' tall).

Framing James Cosgrove

 A customer recently brought in this little (5-3/4" x 8") oil on board by Glasgow painter James Cosgrove (b. 1939). The stained walnut frame was designed entirely to the painting, with a carved cushion rim around a flat with fine carved flutes. I'm very pleased with the harmony of line and form, as well as color—a rare occasion when black works best with a painting.

Framing Dwight Clay Holmes

We just framed this 20" x 16" canvas by Texan Dwight Clay Holmes (1900-1986) titled "Red Bud".

I was especially pleased with the form of the frame profile as an enhancement to both the graceful use of line in the painting (hence the reeding) and the loose brush work (hence the coarse, wild figured quartersawn white oak as well as the carved convex sight edge element). This frame is similar to one on the Charles Partridge Adams, below, which I wrote about here.

I realize these are pretty similar to the frame on the Louis Apol a couple of entries back. But it's useful to compare three ostensibly similar frames with nevertheless significant differences when considered with respect to the pictures they're on.

Re-framing William Hubacek

Just framed this 10" x 14" oil on canvas by notable Californian William Hubacek (1871-1958), rescuing it from a cheap gold setting. The job offers a good before-and-after, and a good example, I think, of how a frame helps or hinders your ability to see the picture:

 

The frame's flat coving up to a carved cushion back edge. In quartersawn white oak with Weathered Oak stain. Very oak-y. Much more sympathetic to the spirit of a very lovely painting.

Framing Charles Partridge Adams—Simple Corner Carving

We recently got to frame this early twentieth century landscape by Charles Partridge Adams (1858-1942). At just 10" x 14", it's humble in size as well as subject matter, and loosely painted—all aspects suggesting a fairly simple frame with a bit of carving.

The tree trunks brought to mind the profile we'd come up with a few months ago for Paul Kratter's view of Lake Tahoe, "Twisted Pine Above Emerald Bay," below—a flat with a double reed near the sight edge and a carved flattened ovolo (convex form) at the sight edge—but I thought I'd refine it a little, adapting it to Adams's more "dapple-y" style.  

So I decided to enhance the lines formed by the double reeds. So added a simple pattern of carved stops to the reeds near the corners. I'm pleased with the effect. I'd like to do more with simple corner carving this year.

Framing Contemporary Paintings—Andrij Korchynsky

This recent job offers a simple lesson in two key elements in frame design: line and form.

We just framed this contemporary painting by Ukrainian-American artist Andrij Korchynsky. Despite the loose style, the sweeping lines and angularity of the roofs suggested the form of the profile—a broad flat sweeping up to a scoop and then beveling back. With respect to line, a narrow raised panel at the sight edge, at the same width as the lines defining the structures, adopts the painter's standard. A 1/4" liner oil-gilded with 23 kt gold leaf gives it just the right highlight in keeping with the painting's palette.

The wood is quartersawn white oak with Saturated Medieval Oak stain.

Framing Kevin Courter in Compound Polyptych

A customer recently commissioned Kevin Courter to paint three cottages on his rural northern California property, then had us frame the three 8 x 10's. Here it is:

The idea was to create a frame alive to the soft edges as well as architectural subject matter.

Framing Ed Bearden—and Playing with Chamfers

I really enjoy chamfering and playing with chamfers as a design element.

Here's an acrylic on paper, recently framed, by mid-century Texan Edward Carpenter Bearden (1919-1980). We had fun coming up with this adaptation of our Aurora frame with flat mortise-and-tenon corners. We often use it with a chamfer all around the sight edge. In this case we played off the mountain peaks in the picture by adding the sets of points near the corners. On the same theme, Trevor shaped the corner plugs with a peak rather than our usual pillow form.

The frame profile is 1-1/2" wide, and the wood is black walnut greyed down with a black wash.

Might have framed this piece close, but the customer preferred to mat it, in part to scale up a fairly small painting (about 11" x 17") to make it a stronger element on the wall—a perfectly good reason. The grey mat avoids the separating effect of white matting.

Another entry on chamfering is here.

Re-framing Thaddeus Welch

Thaddeus Welch (1844-1919) was one of the great historic California landscape painters. This classic bucolic hillside scene by Welch came in recently, the customer looking to free it from a typical period compo frame which he rightly judged to be pretentious and unsuitable to the rustic spirit of the painting.

Before

Here it is in its new quartersawn white oak frame in a dark stain matching the shadows and sympathetic with the forms of the hills, with simple fine beading to pick up the delicate line work in the painting (especially the trees)—and much more suitable to the spirit of nature that so moved Welch.

After

Re-framing Hanson Puthuff

The landscape paintings of Hanson Puthoff (1875-1972) made a major contribution to California's rich heritage of landscape painting. Unfortunately, his pieces did not always find their way into frames that do them justice. Here's one example we had the honor of re-framing this week, taking it out of a machine-made, gold painted compo setting and putting it in a handcrafted, carved quartersawn oak frame. Here it is before and after:

 A well-made, simple home. A 3" bevel profile (canvas is 11-1/2" x 15") with a 45 degree carved chamfer sight edge. Close-ups:

Here's a profile view of the frame:

Re-framing a New—and Much Larger—Rosa Bonheur

Last year we re-framed a couple of paintings of stags, both by premiere nineteenth century French wildlife painter Rosa Bonheur, which I blogged about here. We just did another one, and at 48" x 36" it's considerably bigger than the first two. First, here it is in the compo exhibition frame that we were to replace:

And here it is now:

Given the log house setting it's going in, our solution leans more to the rustic than it might have considering the highly formal (I generally use the term in reference to form, not sophistication and refinement) treatment of the subject matter. But having the frame come out of the same appreciation of the beauty of nature and handcraft that the painting does—especially in contrast to the original frame—more than makes up for whatever formal refinement we left out of the profile. (For a more formal profile on a similar painting, see the earlier entry on re-framing Bonheur stags, here.) I stand by it as a far more sympathetic setting than was the old frame, and far more successful at the primary job of a frame, which is to help us see the picture. Any rejection of pretentiousness and false luxury in art is a step in the right direction! Taking a picture from an exhibitionist presentation to one in harmony and sympathy with the picture is fulfilling one of my favorite William Morris phrases: "for beauty's sake and not for show."

This is a compound frame with a mortise-and-tenon flat, a carved cap-molding and carved and gilt liner. After that wonderful reward of the framer—the moment when you finish fitting the picture and turn over the completed piece to see it—Trevor and I were struck by how the highlights were enhanced. Is it the gilt liner, the darker frame, or the combination? Beyond that, I can't add anything that I didn't say in the previous Bonheur re-framing example.

Here's a corner detail:

Trevor Davis gets credit for making it. Here's the proud craftsman—giving you a sense of the scale of the piece, too.

Framing J Bond Francisco

Recently framed this John Bond Francisco , designing the setting to echo playfully with the massive green frame at the center of the painting. This little oil, 12" x 8", depicts the artist's San Francisco studio around the turn of the century. The frame profile's a No. 16—a plain flat mitered frame with a chamfered (45 degree bevel) sight edge. Chose a flat profile to go with the relatively shallow depth of field and flat object—the painting—that's the focus of the piece. But the angles and design of the stove suggested the chamfer. A bit wider than I normally would've used on a piece this size, but in keeping with the proportions of the depicted frame on its painting. Going as green as the frame in the painting would have sacrificed the harmony of painting and frame, but rubbed green paint in to the grain of the oak to resonate with the frame in the picture.The liner is oak with gold leaf. All is simple as the room depicted—simple, but fun!

Framing Ludmilla Welch

 

We've had the privilege of framing more and more historical work, and this past month got to re-frame this sweet oil painting, "Foggy Morning," (10" x 17") by Ludmilla Welch, who with her husband Thaddeus Welch, worked in San Francisco at the turn of the century. It's in a very low slope Century Series 3" wide profile in stained quartersawn white oak.

Framing Kevin Courter's "Cradled Moon"

Enjoyed framing this 12" x 14" oil for Kevin Courter, now at New Masters Gallery in Carmel. Chose walnut for its color (used a light stain to get the harmony just right) and because it's good for carving. Chose a flat profile, since it's a flat composition, but at the sight edge it's got a very subtle convex, or ovolo, form echoing the form of the treetops cradling the moon. The frame similarly cradles the painting. The carved pattern takes its cue from the crescent moon and the branches. The narrow slip with lemon gold leaf matches the moon.

Framing Kevin Courter's "Soaring Skies"

Just finished framing this wonderful Kevin Courter oil on linen, 20" x 16", titled "Soaring Skies." I wanted the frame to extend the perspective with the right form and amount of line work, but keeping it simple and rustic in spirit. The color came out of the shadows in the grasses. Shadows are frequently a good source for frame color, helping the frame remain subordinate to the painting. The bright sunlight off the clouds suggested the gilt slip.

The painting is headed to New Masters Gallery in Carmel.

From Gold to Oak—II: 19th Century British Still Life

This is another re-framing job that we did maybe a year ago. It's a still life, oil on canvas, by 19th century British painter Edward Ladell (1821-1886). Here's how it was framed when it came in:

 

And how it looked after we re-framed it in stained quartersawn white oak to be more in sympathy with its rustic spirit:

Here's the profile, fairly flat over all, but refined and with beads all keyed to the highly formal and finely drawn painting:

From Gold to Oak—I: Re-Framing Rosa Bonheur Stags

Have you ever looked at a painting and realized that you were fighting to see past the frame, that the frame was actually inhibiting you from seeing the painting? Maybe you've held your hands up to one eye and used them to block out the frame. That was very much my reaction—and I suspect the reaction of the customer who brought it to me—when I first laid eyes on this sweet little oil by the great French painter Rosa Bonheur. The elaborate, swirly gold frame was so imperious, showy and unsympathetic to everything about the picture—the subject, palette, line work, forms and, above all, the rustic spirit—that it actually felt laborious to really study and appreciate the painting itself. (The owner was also seeking a frame that would be more suitable to the painting's destination in a log home.) At just a little over 8" x 6", it was being eaten alive by some past owner's or dealer's insecurities (it didn't help that a makeshift gold colored liner had been used to make the painting fit a 10" x 8" frame). The poor creature appears inexplicably displaced to some Parisian bank manager's parlor, and seems to stare at us as if to say, "What the heck am I doing here?"

Relief finally came when I removed the work from its setting and could enjoy this stately fellow that Mademoiselle Bonheur had distinguished so skillfully. Seeing past the significance of the painting and refusing to be awed by the signature in order to appreciate the work itself, I could craft no better solution than this plain and simple 2-5/8" wide flattened scoop with a single bead at the sight edge. At last, we can see the painting without effort, and the stag is in his natural habitat, warily watching us as intruders of his home.

A larger Bonheur of similar subject matter came in about a year later, with a similarly overbearing frame. Damaged in transit, the composition—or "compo"—breaking off demonstrates the dubious

 service of frames like this as protectors of paintings, not to mention the debased character of compo as fake carving. At 22" x 18", this canvas called for a larger and stronger frame, although with the same approach to line and form which we'd taken with framing the earlier painting.

The suitably rustic spirit of the quartersawn white oak frame molded to harmonize in line and form with this quiet but accomplished work, a dark stain to lead the eye to the lighter painting (the eye goes to light; frames are generally more successful when they're darker than the picture), and a touch of pale gold leaf on oak at the sight edge to echo the painting's contrasts and lend a note of honor to this noble beast all contribute to a setting that sustains and expands the spirit of this fine work and allows us at last to see and admire the painting.

Framing Paintings—I: Kevin Courter's "Colusa Sunset"

"All true art is praise," as John Ruskin said, getting right at the heart of picture-making (and blowing the top off a lot of pretentious blather about art, too). Last fall Kevin Courter brought in this work of praise, a 16" x 20" oil on linen, less than 2 weeks before our show, "A Heaven in the Eye" was to open. It's a stunner, as you can see, and to a frame-maker an inspiration. My enthusiasm and the extra focus imposed by the deadline spurred me to produce one of my favorite recent pieces.

Mural Feeling

We recently framed this Paul Kratter painting for a couple in Washington State, and I wanted to share one aspect in particular that we're emphasizing more and more. It's what Walter Crane, the first president of the Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society called "mural feeling" - the effect of a framed easel painting framed and hung to feel like a part of the wall. As Crane wrote, "The easel picture, properly considered and placed in its right relationship to its surroundings, by judicious treatment and hanging, and above all by a certain mural feeling, may be the acme of decoration. It’s relation to a scheme of decoration may be like that of a jewel in a dress." Two keys to achieving this effect are demonstrated by this piece: first, and more obviously, the very architectural feeling of the mortise-and-tenon frame; and second, the hanging system which allows the frame to hang right up against the wall with no gap, and especially importantly, without leaning forward and down the way pictures usually do when hung with a wire. The way we do this is to cut recesses on the back (the "reverse," in framer's parlance) of the frame and attach d-rings in the recesses. There's no wire; the picture hooks are carefully located on the wall so the d-rings hang directly off the hooks. With the d-rings and the picture hooks both in the recesses there's nothing to push the picture and frame away from the wall.

What's so important about this is the effect of unity and the aim of restoring the primal unity of all the arts, but in particular the most divided arts historically speaking, which are painting and architecture.

One other thing about this frame that I particularly like is the flush through tenons, shown here: