The Online Photographer

Great discussion following the framing posts. Thanks for that.

Various people have made a number of suggestions, quite naturally reporting on other options, reporting their own tastes or practices, and so forth.

I suppose I'd really like to encourage something a little different.

First, backing up a little bit: Photography is a big house. It has "many mansions," in the words of the KJV. Everybody has a slightly different "take" on what it is and how it's best practiced.

To me, printmaking is close to the core of the art. And if you're a printmaker, I'd really encourage you to work out framing for yourself. Learn about it; look at options; get ideas; decide what you like and don't like.

As with "what to take a photograph of," "what a photograph should look like," sensors and lenses, color or B&W, film or digital, on and on—all of it—there are a myriad choices when it comes to framing. What direction would you take it?

One thing I might suggest, as an exercise. Take one print you really, really like—your own or somebody else's—and frame it as well as you can. Whether you do it yourself or you hire out the work. Just...get it right. What does that mean for you? Whatever that means for you.

The occasional effort to do something really well is an exercise, or amounts to an exercise, that really helps clarify our values and tastes. That's my belief, anyway. Back when I was a printmaker, every so often I'd work really hard to get a print absolutely perfect. I wouldn't do this with every print I made, Lord knows. But the effort, undertaken only occasionally, made me a better printer all of the time. I did that throughout my life as a custom printer, from the start to the end.

How would you frame a print if you really did it up right? It's not an interesting question, but it'll be an interesting answer.

Framing can be an afterthought, or something you just never do, or something you take for granted...or it can be an integral part of your creative practice and an extension of printmaking. Up to you. But it's fun to look into, fun to experiment with, fun to make up your mind about. Give it a shot one day.

Mike

P.S. To our American Friends, enjoy the Super Bowl today. Since I have no dog in the fight, I'm hoping for good close game. Personally, I'm still a little amazed about Brett and Aaron sharing the mic last night. That's big news around here.

Cheesehead royalty. February 2nd, 2013.

Original contents copyright 2013 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

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[...Continued from the previous post]

Q: How do I choose the right colour of matting to complement the image and draw the viewer's eye into the image?

A: For traditional museum-style framing, colored mats of any sort just aren't used. They're considered decorative and distracting and distinctly downmarket, suited to that sort of rural Victorian demotic decor that you might see in Country Cutesy magazine or Tchochkes and Trinkets Quarterly. I'm not saying you shouldn't do it if you want to. But many "frames" are really confections for the wall in which the "art" in the middle is really just one more element, and sometimes not even the most important element*; the modernist idea of framing (and granted, 20th-century modernism as an aesthetic movement is getting long in the tooth these days) is to dress up the photograph but not compete with it...to let it have all the attention. I've never once matted a photograph in anything but a white mat.

Of course, there are many shades of "white," from harsh, brightened, almost bluish stark white to "cream" color on the frontier of tan. I used to be, um, a wee bit fanatical about matching the mat white to the paper white. At one point, with considerable effort, I found the absolute perfect match—and within six months both the mat board and the photo paper that matched each other so perfectly were discontinued! So don't obsess. Just try a few of the available colors and see what looks best.

One warning there: be careful about the light under which you evaluate the whiteness of various whites. Frame shops might have become enlightened about archival paractices, but they're still mired in the stone age of fluorescent tubes for illumination, as much a torture of modern life as leaf-blowers. Most homes feature a mix of winter daylight, summer daylight, and incandescent light, and even the compact fluorescents infiltrating living rooms lately are color-corrected to yellow the light. Even that's changing now: the last two light bulbs I bought were LEDs. In any event, just be aware that the mat needs to look good where it's going to be hung, not just under the sickly greenish Martian glow of an office-type fluorescent.

You might also consider that matting as a standard evolved simply because traditional silver-gelatin prints can't come into contact with glass—over time, they'll stick. The purpose of the overmat is to hold the print suface away from the glass and keep the two from touching. I have an ancient family picture, oval in shape, that is stuck fast to a piece of curved glass that is, in shape, a section of an ovoid sphere. Never knew what I was supposed to do with it; the frame this weird piece of glass originally fit is long gone. But the photo is stuck fast to the glass. All I can do is keep it in a box cushioned on cotton batting.

Modern prints can be all over the place in terms of their materials, surfaces, and physical properties. I have some pigment inkjet prints on Epson Archival Matte (I don't know what they call this paper now; Epson kept changing its name for a while there) that aren't even matted. The matte surface of the inkjet paper doesn't stick to glass, so I just figured I'll risk putting it in contact with the glass. It's been a few years and it seems fine so far.

Q: Custom framing can be very expensive—should I try to do this myself? Are there kits available? Or, is it worth it to have lots of colour/matting options available and let the pros do it?

A: Absolutely try it yourself if you want to. Many readers in the previous post gave sources for framing "kits." Metal frames are very easy to assemble yourself, requiring basically a screwdriver and little in the way of craft skills, and many suppliers offer framing sections cut to order. I'd say the last thing to do yourself is matting, because cutting mats requires skill and good cutters are expensive, but some people do this too and you shouldn't be averse to trying it if you want to. There are sources for good quality pre-cut mats, although I'm not going to put in the labor to do a survey.

Plain-jane, bog-standard 20th-century modernist museum-style framed photographs chez TOP. Left over from an exhibition. These prints are actually dry-mounted, leaving a very narrow border, to rag watercolor paper, then inserted into a hinged window-mat (also called a passe-partout). Although you can't see it easily, the top one is signed in the lower right in pencil. Also, this print is very slightly bottom-weighted to create the visual impression of a mat that is exactly equal on all four sides. I should really get this picture and mat put into a better frame with better glass.

I've known do-it-yourself framers across a very broad spectrum. Some do it to pinch pennies and/or to minimize inconvenience, but some go the other way entirely—they do it themselves because they're fanatical about quality. I've even known a photographer who milled his own moldings himself, from exotic and beautiful solid woods, and assembled his wood frames prior to staining and varnishing them. They were gorgeous. We even have a regular reader here, Bron Janulis, who is a professional framewright who makes hand-carved, hand-gilded frames for oil paintings and other fine art. As you might imagine, million-dollar oil paintings don't go into "custom frames" made from stock moldings from the local frame shop. There's custom, and then there's custom.

And didn't Thomas Eakins, the 19th-century American painter, make his own frames? (Eakins was a photographer, too.)

Portrait of Professor Henry A. Rowland by Thomas Eakins. In this case the frame (by the artist) is very much an integral part of the painting.

One of the biggest reasons for not doing your own framing is, simply, volume. Or the lack thereof. I have only a handful of pictures framed in a good year; if I got all set up to frame my own, after I made my five frames for this year, what then? All dressed up and nowhere to go. One guy I know of got set up to do his own framing, then had to justify the expense of the equipment and materials by taking in work from other people. Because he wasn't great at marketing, he ended up working for very cheap. So, more or less inadvertently, he went from being an artist who wanted to frame his own work to being a cut-rate framewright toiling for low margins. No thanks. I tried to make my own sushi, too, and it was a transformative experience: I completely stopped resenting the high price of sushi and started really appreciating the artistry, skill, and knowledge of trained sushi chefs. Same with framing, for me—I know enough about framing to know I don't want to do it myself, and to appreciate the people who do it professionally.

Q: What glass options work best? I went with an anti-reflection coating option so I could see the print better. Waste of money, or the norm for prints you're proud of?

A: There are a zillion options for glazing. For standard-rate framing, many shops still use window glass, which is relatively low quality and has a distinctly green cast. Many reputable shops will have several glazing options with examples on display at various price points. At the other end of the spectrum you can buy optical glass that's multicoated like a camera lens to reduce reflections—Google "museum glass" to explore.

Note that light transmission varies with glass type. Behind poor-quality window glass, a picture will actually look darker. That's because window glass transmits less than 100% of the light passing through it. I don't know the number—it probably varies widely—but it's well under 90%. Museum glass transmits about 91–93%.

Museum glass is also very expensive. The only examples I have in my home are Denglas, framing two postcards, one from Ansel Adams and one from Helen Levitt. The only reason the postcards are framed with museum glass is that, years ago, when I framed them, they were the only things I wanted to frame that were small enough that I could afford the pricey glass!

These days, I'm starting to get my head turned by acrylics. ("Plexiglas" is a trade name for a particular brand of polymethylmethacrylate resin sheeting, not a generic material type. There are actually many different types of Plexiglas, and many other makers and suppliers of acrylic glazing.) The reason is that my real interest is not framing—my real interest is in print preservation. I'm very interested in how photographs survive through time. And for most, display conditions and inherent archival stability, while important, take a back seat to physical protection: can the photograph get dirty? Crushed? Wet? Cut? Burned up? Most photographs don't decay or fade despite loving care—they get destroyed, either deliberately or accidentally.

It's this last—accident—where acrylic really has it all over glass. Framing is thought to be a way to lovingly preserve a photograph, but actually it puts a photograph in a fair amount of peril, because frames fall, glass breaks, and broken glass damages the art. Plexi used to be a poor option, because it scratched easily and clouded quickly. But it was light, and it didn't shatter. However, acrylic glazing seems to have improved in quality quite dramatically since I was an impoverished student working part-time at a framing shop. I looked at a product called Tru-Vue Optium Museum Acrylic, which claims 99% UV protection and 97% transmission. Both numbers exceed glass. It claims to be scratch-resistant, but that I can't evaluate.

Acrylic is also a lot lighter than glass, which is why it's long been preferred for very large pieces.

•     •     •

I know these answers probably raise a whole lot more questions, but I'll venture to hope you got something, at least, out of the discussion. The final thing to bear in mind is that they're only my answers. And when I say "my answers," I mean they're my answers—not necessarily the best answers, and certainly not the only answers. And possibly not even entirely true and accurate answers, although I hope they are that last. As with any element of photography, it's a complex subject, assuming you are willing to get into it in depth.

Mike

*During my brief career as a framer, c. 1981 or so, it used to bug me that people would routinely spend $100 to $200 to frame a $29 poster, but would balk strenuously at paying $100 to $200 for a fine original print of a photograph. I am older now, and more resigned to human nature.

Original contents copyright 2013 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

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Arne Croell: "With respect to glazing, don't mix up the 'non-glare' glass with the true AR-coated glass Mike mentions. Non-glare glass has a lightly etched surface which will produce light scattering instead of a directional reflection. Non-glare glass is inert, but reduces the contrast and sharpness of the viewed print considerably, so it is not a good choice.

"In addition to 'Museum Glass' by Tru-Vue, there are similar products by Schott (Mirogard), Pilkington (Opti-View), and one or two other companies, e.g. Luxar by Hy-Tech-Glass in Switzerland or Artglass by GroGlass (I think Denglas disappeared from the market). Both Mirogard and Optiview also come in versions where two glass layers are laminated with a thin plastic layer like in a car windshield, taking care of the breakage problem. These are expensive, of course. Speaking of expensive—if you think Tru-Vue 'Museum' glass is expensive, price the 'Optium' acrylic version by the same manufacturer mentioned by Mike...."

My local framer, Gallery 1, is less than a mile from my house. (I would have taken the time to make a more artful shot of the exterior, but it's as cold as Wisconsin here today. Brrr.)

A while back, a reader named Scott Price asked if I would answer some specific questions about framing pictures.

"When I went to a custom framer to choose a frame to complement the photo," Scott wrote, "I discovered that I'm a complete spazz when it comes to making these decisions—so many framing options, matting colours, widths, etc. I got completely lost in the process. If it weren't for an exceptionally patient and knowledgeable framer, I might still be trying to make up my mind."

Before we get into Scott's questions, though, I'd like to highlight that line, "if it weren't for an exceptionally patient and knowledgeable framer." In the 1950s and '60s, give or take, standard methods of archival framing hadn't been entirely developed. With the "Photo Boom" of the 1970s, experts quickly developed a set of "best practices" for framing photographs—but many storefront frame shops hadn't gotten up to speed. Now, however, many framers do know all about archival framing for most common photographic media. So a good first step is to find a good local framer and patronize them.

That's what I do. Above is a snapshot I just took of my local frame shop, Gallery 1, which is located handily a mere seven-tenths of a mile from my house.

If money is a big issue, most decent-sized cities have specialty framers that cater to artists, galleries, and museums. They'll often sell framing at a fairly big discount, sometimes leaving some of the assembly work to you. They might have a minimum order size, though, and you're unlikely to get the same level of personal attention a full-service framer will give you. But the trade-off might be worth it. To find these places, ask around—ask photographers who exhibit, or at local art schools, or galleries or small museums (larger museums will have their own installation personnel and do all their framing in-house).

And if money is a huge issue, consider buying a readymade frame from a place like Target. The quality won't be as good, and of course it won't be customized to your artwork...but one way I get around this when the artwork or the occasion just doesn't demand a custom frame is to buy the readymade first and then print the picture to fit it! It's a good trick and something I've done many times.

But on to Scott's questions.

Q: How wide should the matting be, relative to the size of the image?

A: Depends. Standard, typical museum framing generally uses very wide matting. Partly this is to set off the image and avoid visual distraction; partly it's fashion, in that it looks luxurious and unstinting, and it makes small photographs look more imposing; and partly it's due to the fact that museums tend to have stocks of standard-sized frames that are often a good deal larger than the artwork they will temporarily contain, and floating a small photograph in a very large matt will tend to mask the fact that the frame isn't proportioned specifically for each picture.

There's a technical element to mat width, because the width of the mat separates the photograph from the frame. If the frame is not archivally inert—for instance, if it's wood—some physical separation is a good idea.

But there's also expense to consider: the broader the mat, the larger the frame has to be, and larger frames cost more. For home display, larger mats (and, hence, frames) "cost" you in terms of wall space, too. So you don't want to habitually make your mats extremely wide.

Michelle Ellis of Gallery 1 holding the last framed picture they made for me. You might recognize the picture—from the Print Offer previous to this one.

I personally tend to like proportion—I think space and shape relationships are almost an art form in themselves (ask any architect). My preference is for mats that aren't too big or too small, but "just right." In the Peter Turnley that Michelle is holding above, we settled on two inches all around. It's a bit scant, but I didn't want the frame to be too big, and I didn't want to take the dark brown-black wood frame visually too far away from the picture.

A further issue is "bottom weighting." A picture has visual weight—the eye/brain "expects" the rectangle of the picture to have some weight, so if you make the mat exactly equal on all four sides, it often looks like the bottom margin is slightly too thin or narrow—as if the picture were visually "pressing down" on it. For this reason, framers often "bottom weight" a mat, which simply means making the mat border slightly thicker or wider on the bottom. There are two ways you can bottom-weight a mat—you can do it just ever so slightly, so the mat looks equidistant from the picture all around, or you can exaggerate the bottom weighting, which some people like the look of. In the Turnley, we didn't bottom weight the mat, but we gave more of a float on the bottom margin in order to accommodate Peter's signature, so the effect was the same.

(A "float," by the way, is when there's some blank paper between the edge of the picture and the edge of the mat.)

Q: Where should I sign my print? Lower-right corner of the image? Just below the image on an expose white edge around the print? On the back of the photo?

A: With all of this stuff there are no rules, and many photographers do like to sign their prints on the back, which is usually done in pencil to avoid any possibility of bleed-through or show-through. An old-fashioned custom was for the photographer to put a printed label on the back of the print, too, and sign that, and some photographers carry that over to today. But be cautious about the archival properties of labels and the glue you use to affix them to the print, and make sure the label can't be seen through the paper to the front of the print! That doesn't happen often, but I have seen it.

That said, most signed prints are signed on the front, in ink, in the lower right-hand corner, usually but not always right next to the edge of the picture.

Note where Peter signed his print—the customary, accepted, and by far the most common location. This mat is floated, meaning there's a gap left between the edge of the picture and the edge of the mat.

Most photographers sign the actual photo, on the margin or border of the photo paper that was left when printing. An exception is when the photograph is dry-mounted to a piece of mount board that will form part of the mat assembly. In dry mounting, a sheet of dry, heat-activated adhesive is tacked to the back of the print, then both are trimmed together on a rotary trimmer, and finally the dry mount tissue is tacked to a piece of acid-free mat board and the sandwich is pressed in a drymount press, which applies both heat and pressure to adhere the print to the board. The bond is semi-permanent; it can (sometimes) be removed by a trained paper conservator, but, most likely, not by you. In the case of a dry mounted print, there's often no blank paper-white border, and in that the case the signature would go on the board. But the signature almost never goes on the overmat (the sheet with the window cut in it that is hinged to the backing). One obvious reason is that the overmat can be separated from the print, and you wouldn't want the signature to go with it.

Note that drymounting is not considered completely archival, even if the adhesive is acid-free; standard practice is to leave the print alone as much as possible, so that it can be completely removed from the framing assembly as easily as possible. However, dry-mounted prints look better, and many photographers still prefer to do it for that reason.

Q: How thick should the frame be, in relation to the matting and image sizes? Does a thin frame work with wide matting?

A: Entirely a value judgment. Not only does a thin frame with a wide mat work, but it's almost the default standard, since Nielsen metal frames are widely used to frame photographs.

At one point, the lowest-common-denominator "standard" framing for photographs was a silver Nielsen #11 metal molding, which is quite narrow. Metal frames are still often used for photographs because they look good and they're archivally inert.

The profile, with measurements, of Nielsen #11 metal molding from the Nielsen-Bainbridge website, showing the colors available. Silver used to be standard but now Nielsen metal frames are offered in many different profiles and many different colors. I'm partial to German Silver and Contrast Grey for black and white photographs.

I'd say, make the judgment purely visually. In the case of Peter's picture, I liked the somewhat heavy, very dark frame with that particular image, but any number of different treatments would have worked.

[To be continued...]

Mike

Original contents copyright 2013 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.
There was a book about framing and presenting photographs and other artwork that I liked, but I can't remember the name of it.

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Stan B.: "If you're gonna float your picture the customary 1/4 inch, make sure you (or your printer) leave 1/2-inch white margins (minimum) on the print around your image so that the mat will have enough room to properly overlap. Otherwise, you'll curtail your options."