Framing The Work

Framing is part of the making. Timber, grain, colour and depth decide how a surface meets a room and holds its place on the wall. When chosen carefully, a frame becomes quiet support, letting the work breathe while offering an edge, a boundary and a way of being seen.

Finishing a piece doesn’t end with the surface. When framing textured artwork, the frame decides how it meets the world, how it rests in a room, how it holds its place against the wall.

Most of my panels are edged in gold before framing. The frame then adds another layer, both protection and boundary. Choosing it is as deliberate as shaping plaster. It asks for the same attention to proportion and detail.

Frames do more than contain. They shift the work slightly, giving it distance from its surroundings, marking it as something to look at closely. Without them, the edges might blur into the wall. With them, the piece stands on its own.

I’ve learned not to treat framing as an afterthought. A surface that feels strong can falter if the frame is wrong. The colour, the grain, the depth, all of it matters. When it aligns, the frame becomes invisible, not drawing attention but letting the work breathe.

Sometimes I make the frames myself. It slows the process, but in a way that feels useful. Building them by hand means I can decide on every part of their presence: the width, the join, the way the timber sits against the edge. It’s another step in shaping how the piece will live once it leaves the studio.

At the moment I’m working with American white ash. I leave it raw. The pale tone holds the work without weighing it down, and the grain carries just enough life to keep it from feeling flat. The timber is solid without feeling heavy, which makes it fit the surface well. I haven’t stained it yet, though I imagine I’ll experiment with that in the future, to see how the character of the wood shifts when colour is drawn out or softened.

The choice of timber changes everything. Too dark and the work feels pulled inward. Too fine and it risks fragility. Ash holds the middle: clean, balanced, with a warmth that keeps the edge from becoming too severe.

There is something grounding in this final stage. After weeks of layering plaster, sanding, adjusting and watching light move across the surface, the frame brings closure. Not by tying everything neatly together but by offering the piece its edge, its place, its way of being seen.

--AM

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