A frame covered with acrylic gesso, ready to begin with the gilding process. I have previously sanded the gesso with wet emery paper and polished with the finest paper where the gold is to come.

To attach the gold to the frame, I use a mordant which is simply oil paint with extra thick oil and some oil varnish blended in. When the mordant dries but is still sticky, gold leaf will adhere to it.

This picture shows gilding tools used for both water and oil gilding. The gold leaf is held and cut on a leather palette. A knife, similar to a painting knife, is used to cut the gold as necessary. Brushes are used to move the gold to the place to be gilded, and to press it into the mordant as necessary.

I use the flat brush to move the gold leaf to the frame and to press it gently onto the mordant. I work with the frame on an easel for two reasons: 1) so that dust doesn't fall onto the mordant; 2) so that I can use gravity to let the leaf hang down, allowing me to move it onto the mordant as I choose in the next step.

Then I use a soft paint brush to press the leaf further against the mordant. At first I don't attempt to smooth the leaf. It is better to have the leaf wrinkle than to have it stretch and break.

Here the entire mordant is covered with loose-fitting gold leaf. The next step is faulting. I lay the frame flat on a table. Now my goal is to gently press the gold down into the mordant more completely. In the process, I want to detach excess gold and move it to places where more gold is needed. Having the frame flat lets me use gravity. If the frame were vertical, the excess leaf would simply fall on the floor before I could move it elsewhere on the frame.

Here I have removed much of the excess leaf, and filled in the gaps where there was no leaf.

Here I have smoothed down the gold and faulted. At this point I will set the frame aside so that the mordant can harden and I can rub the gold leaf to smooth out the little bits of leaf that remain sticking up. If I tried that at this stage, I might ruin the gilding.

After letting the frame sit for a week, I rub it with a fingertip and a clean smooth cloth to smooth off the final rough edges of the leaf. This requires great care.

Three Ginger Pots by Hanneke van Oosterhout

On the question of how to frame pictures for exhibition, Angela Ferreira commented:

I think the best way to exhibit any painting to appeal to a wide variety of buyers is to display it with a very simple effective frame, or leave the canvas unframed. Framing can be distracting and might not appeal to some — most people like buying a painting and then framing it to their own house style.

Of course, a painting only has to appeal to one buyer — the one who takes it home. In this way, a painting is different from a book or a song. Most people know how challenging it is to frame a picture. If the artist does a good job in choosing a frame, this can save the buyer a lot of effort and decision-making.

The right frame can enhance the value of a painting. But the artist takes a risk in framing, as Angela implies. The time and money invested on the frames may not be well spent.

Should artists consider the frame as an integral part of their work and strive to get it right, whatever the risk or complexity? Or is it better to leave framing to the buyer?

[See the poll at the top of this blog, right column]
[See also post on Photostream]

Green Snails by Hanneke van Oosterhout

Choosing a good frame is difficult. Compared to painting the painting, choosing the frame is highly constrained by one factor in particular: cost. The ideal frame can raise the market value of a painting, but before an exhibition, one does not know what will sell. Investing in the frame is therefore a sort of speculation. For the painting above, Hanneke felt she made a satisfactory choice. The physical texture of the frame complements that painted in the shells. The frame is made from pre-fabricated profile stock and was not inordinately expensive. In the photo it looks pretty good. But in real life the frame screams, “second rate quality!” The reason for this is simple. The physical texture of the profile stock, prefabricated rather than hand crafted for this frame, does not “mesh” at the corners where the profile was cut and joined together. This subtle aspect is important in real life. It undercuts the value of the frame (and the painting) for the discerning collector. I suppose the really discerning collector would buy the painting and invest in a new frame.

In the work above, the frame is hand-crafted. That is to say, someone did some work decorating the frame after the corners were joined. In the photo, this is not obvious, but in real life, it makes a big difference in the feeling of the frame, its feeling of worth. Of course, this type of frame is somewhat more expensive. But if a painting is good, a certain quality (and expense) of frame is called for, otherwise the frame drags the painting down. A good frame helps, but better no frame than the wrong frame.

The frame depicted above (sorry about the quality of the photo) is made from pre-fabricated stock, the type of frame you can buy at a normal frame-making shop. Although not “hand finished” it does not have a “cheap” feel to it. The reason is clear: the profile “meshes” at the corners, because of its simple form. A handcrafted frame of a similar profile would appear more sophisticated, but the frame above does quite well. Or does it? You comments, as always, are appreciated.

I say the design is bold is because, by departing from expectations, Regnerus takes a risk that visitors may be confused and leave the site before they see anything. For those visitors who do look more closely, the simplicity of the layout serves the intended role of providing a quiet context for the artwork.

Is minimalism inherently good for the internet?

Is Regnerus’ site a model for other internet sites?