Glazed and Confused

Tools of the Trade

Glass cutting is a fairly simple task given the correct tools, which I daresay is true for almost any task. Proper equipment just makes a job easier. Think how hard it would have been for the Egyptians to build the pyramids without having enslaved the Israelites? That’s not exactly a great comparison and working with glass isn't quite like pyramid building, but it’s all relative. 

In the framing biz, there are lots of little details that have to be right before the job is done, and glass cleaning is a big 'little detail'.  For people like me these details could become crazy-making.  There really isn’t such a thing as glass that’s cleaned “well enough”.  It’s either clean or it isn’t.   

Glass cleaning is a process, and it is not as easy as one might think, and unlike some I don't have the option of saying, "I don't do windows."

Working with new glass is not so bad. In fact there really is very little cleaning involved with new glass, if any. New glass arrives in boxes, separated by sheets of paper, and it is clean upon receipt.  I think they must package it in a clean room. Our main goal when working with new glass is to keep it clean.  In an effort to keep the new glass clean, we have some very stylish gloves, I mean really chic, to wear while handling it. The gloves keep fingerprints and dirt off the glass. Pretty nifty.   

Yesterday, I was working with some unboxed glass, and therefore it was not clean. So BriGuy had to get it clean.  Feeling self-assured as a veteran window cleaner, I thought, “No problem, got the gloves, got the homemade Windex*.  Gonna TCB!”  I was going to get the job done: botta bing botta boom – done! Well....it was a bit more like botta "are you kidding me?"  My process went something like this: clean one side, clean other side, use air gun to blow off remaining particles and dust, see smudge/dirt spot, clean again, turn over, see another smudge/dirt spot, clean again and on and on. After 10 or so minutes dancing this glass cleaning tango, my Einstein-like mind figured it out: the gloves only keep the glass clean if the gloves are clean. See how that works? Clean gloves, clean glass; dirty gloves, dirty glass.  It was an astounding discovery.  All that to say, dirty glass is frankly...a pain in the glass! (Cheap, I know, but it was right there).

While our super sexy glass gloves really are excellent tools, they aren’t made of Kevlar or chainmail so they don't protect against broken glass cutting into a blood vessel or jabbing into any vital organ. No, I didn't get cut. I almost got cut. Really it was more like I almost got impaled.

I was working with a rather large piece of glass, which I had just painstakingly cleaned, and I was about to set it in the frame when it broke. It broke into two pieces one of which was quite pointy, in that broken bottle used as a weapon kind of way and aimed directly at my abdomen. It scared me nearly to death. If you've ever had a car wreck, you know those moments when it’s happening and you can do nothing and your mind is racing? Well, it was kinda like that. In the split second between the sound of the crack and the actual separation, I had a million thoughts in my mind.  I was certain a red sea was soon to be born out of me, right then and there.  I remember thinking, “Please, please, please don't cut me.  Really, I don't want to bleed, no cuts! Ok, if you are cut, don't throw up and for god’s sake, don't have diarrhea!”  Lucky for me and for Owner and anyone else who might have entered the shop thereafter, my response was to remain still and calm. I did not yell.  I did not scream.  Not one, single expletive crossed my lips. (For real; not a single cuss word. Didn't even think one. No, I'm not lying. Yes, this is the Brian).  Although I was almost certain I had cut my hand, I had not. I just lost a small piece of skin from my gloved finger.    

So you see framing can be a dangerous business.  Between the vicious chopper, that wraith ever lurking and ever ready to cut with it's blades of power and the insidious, harrowing hazards of glazing, we framers must navigate carefully in our quest to get it right.  Like Frodo and Sam, Owner and I move on. 

 

*Owner makes homemade glass cleaner.  Funny thing is, I have done the same since long before I ever worked at the Frame Shop & Gallery.  Peas from the same pod?  Often, I think so and happily.



Back in the saddle

Sunset over Lake Dardanelle
taken by Robert Herron

Three weeks ago Owner's husband was hit by a truck while he was riding his bike.  Thankfully, he didn't suffer any major injuries, and he has mended, but the event gave me great pause about riding my bike on the road. 

Last week a friend of mine invited to me to ride with him.  He is an accomplished cyclist, and I, on the other hand, am not.  I was pleased that he asked me to join him, but I must admit my acceptance was not without some trepidation owing to Owner's husband's experience.  We survived the ride without incident save my near expiration while climbing a very steep and seemingly unrelenting hill, no, a mountainside.  Cruising back to our beginning point,  we were graced with a view of a most audacious sun regaled in shocking pinks and brilliant orange.   We pedaled on and watched our sustaining star sliding off the horizon pushing it's last rays across the lake and mountains like paint on a canvas.  It was a perfect way to end the day.  Since that ride, I am happy to report, I have been back in the saddle.  I wanted to get riding back into my routine, and now I have. 

Part of my daily routine has always included coffee.  Some might call me devoted to coffee.  To quote a dear friend, "Coffee is a commitment."  So true.  I have morning coffee, mid-morning coffee, after lunch coffee, mid afternoon coffee, getting ready to leave work coffee.  I love coffee.  That said, once I leave the house, I rarely finish a cup of coffee.  Usually, I get one or two nice, hot swigs and promptly forget where I set my cup down.  It goes something like this:  Pour cup of coffee, set cup down; forget where cup is; cuss; find cup later, unwittingly take drink of cold coffee, cuss again, pour coffee out, fill cup up again.  Repeat.  (I have a similar routine for car keys and wallet).  The point is this:  coffee has always been part of my routine and unless something drastic happens to change that, it always will be.  So imagine my surprise when I first arrived at The Frame Shop & Gallery and discovered there was no coffee maker.  I let it slide for a while thinking I could make do with something else.  I drink water anyway, but I tried iced tea, fancy vitamin water.  Really?  As if over-priced water or iced tea could begin to fill coffee's shoes!  Eventually, I couldn't continue the charade.  I couldn't continue lying to myself.  Who was I kidding?  It wasn't working.  Saturday, I put an end to my coffee infedility, and I brought in my own coffee pot.  After all, coffee is a commitment.  I might not have my entire routine down yet, but I am getting there a pedal and a cup at a time.

Moonwalking

One of the best parts of being back home is, as I have said before, the people I get to see.  This week I got to see my Jr. English teacher, Mrs. F.  She was a hoot, and despite being a fairly tough teacher, she made us laugh, and we had a good time in her class.  She rolled along with the antics of 16/17 year olds with relative ease, and she sure knew how to shut me up when my constant commentary hit the level of totally obnoxious.  It was great fun to visit with her.  While Mr.s F was in, Owner encouraged her to read this blog.  Subsequently, I encouraged Mrs. F to keep her red pen out of reach when reading; I wouldn't want her to mess up her monitor. 

 

I have often thought of Mrs. F through the years when writing.  She stressed to us the importance of word choice, or "WC" as she referred to it.  Countless times I saw on my graded papers a red circle or slash with "WC" out to the side.  I don't know that I have ever truly been adept at "WC", but I do try.  Ok, sometimes I try.  Regardless, "WC" has always been funny to me.  "WC", water closet, toilet and from there, I'll spare you.  I think my adolescent humor is best shared between other adolescent 40 year old boys. 

 

Today, The Frame Shop & Gallery took one small step, but it is a giant leap for Ownerkind.  We began the process of implementing a Point of Sale system, Lifesaver, that will provide us the ability to process sales, institute an inventory control system, and place orders with our suppliers!  Replacing a system that has been used for 33 years is no small feat, but we are going to move forward undaunted by the enormity task at hand.  This is the dawning of the age of Lifesaver at The Frame Shop & Gallery, and I am happy to be part of the sunrise.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Frame Them!

I began my day yesterday determined 1) I was not going to lose any appendages and 2) that when I left the shop I would be able to measure and cut moulding, join it, measure and cut mat and glass and fit them all together in a final product.  And that's just exactly what I did. 

First off, I am typing with all 10 digits.  I was not the victim of chopper molestation, thankfully.  Every time I put a piece of moulding on the beast, I thought "don't put your fingers by the blades, don't put your fingers by the blades", in a Rainman-esque fashion but without all the nodding.  I listened to myself, and all turned out well for my hands. 

The first frame I made was crooked, and that is a kind description.  I forced it together.  It looked entirely pathetic.  I couldn't show it to Owner because it was too awful.  That said, I didn't throw it away.  In fact, I intend to keep it on my desk as a reminder of where I started.  Perhaps it can be a sort of talisman for good framing.  For a bit I studied the sad little lopsided frame for clues on where I went wrong, what I could do to improve.  I made mental notes that went something like this:  learn how to use a ruler!  Measure twice, cut once.  It's embarrassing to admit, I think I measured about five times, and I still got it wrong.  Oh well, it is practice, right? 

For my second attempt at frame-making, I chose a different moulding from the stash of rejects Owner had set out for my practice.  This time I measured and cut properly.  Relief.  It was the joining of the pieces where I went awry.  In the joining process the moulding is held together at the corners via an underpinning method.  Important Note:  One cannot see where the pin is going in on the moulding since it is, you got it, underpinned.  Now that seems fairly obvious and simple, I agree; however, I managed to, not once, not twice, BUT three times completely miss the moulding when trying to join it.  The concept of "under" seemed to be foreign to me.  On the fourth attempt, I was golden.  After a slow start (read slow as in pace of the work and operation of the brain) I pinned three corners in a flash like I had been doing this my whole life.  But as is often the case for those who get a little too big for their britches a little too quickly, on corner four I blew it.  I was crusin along, feeling all good and thinking, "yep, I've got this, I'm just bangin out some frames.  Pretty much frame-maker", and then it happened.  Erupting through the moulding came one of the joining pins.  Yes, it popped right out on top for the world to see.  Frame ruined or rurnt if you prefer.

By frame three, I really did have it down.  I cut it, joined it and cleaned it up, and that frame went on the sale table.  Naturally, I thought it should be about a $100 item because, well, it was my first good frame and it was gold, so you can imagine my surprise when Owner wrote a big red $9 on the back, and it's half-off of that.  Ok, I knew it wasn't a $100 frame since it was 5"x5", but a guy can dream.

I continued the day waiting on customers, taking orders, doing the regular FramerGuy stuff and I was making frames when I had the time.  After we closed, I was ready to see if I could do it all, start to finish.  I picked an item to frame, selected a mat, decided on a frame and set to work.  While I still have a bit of anxiety about being becoming an expert framer, I feel encouraged.  One day after deciding that I had to get this figured out, I did it.  So here it is, my first framed piece which I did in the words of Eric Carmen, "all by myself".  Not bad lemonade from where I'm sitting.        


The would not be amputee

The backroom/"attic" is cleaned up and the SALE is on.  Everything seems to be moving smoothly except for one more snag in the framing school saga.  I was informed yesterday there is no more room at the Denver framing school inn, which I had finally decided I would attend.  Despite my valiant attempt at persuasion (i.e. begging) and my willingness to accept even second-rate placement, I remain without a framer's school.  After that discovery, Owner and I had a quick chat about exactly what it is I need to be able to do frame-making-wise.  Somewhere in my head the gears shifted.  This has to get fixed, and it has to get fixed now.  I've tried to get into a framing school, and it hasn't worked, so it's time for me to take the bull by the horns or the moulding by the rabbet to put it in framing jargon.  I'm going to have to make it happen, and make it happen I will.  Owner has showed me the basics of measuring for and cutting a mat, how to join a frame, how to cut moulding and fit the frame with picture, mat and glazing.  Now, I have to perfect the skills.  Practice, practice practice!  Owner set out several mouldings on which I can practice, and I hope not to lose any digits in the process.  I'm crossing my fingers while I still have them.   

The Chopper!
Its blades are concealed
by plexi panels an allusion to safety.
I am not fooled.

The moulding cutter or CHOPPER is a terrifying beast with a mouth bearing two 6" long incisors ready to slice through whatever finds its way to its trap.  Literally these two teeth are giant razor blades that could quite easily sever a finger from a hand.  It would be a very nice 45 degree angle cut, but I hardly think that is a consolation for the loss of a body part.

One might have picked up on the fact that I have a little trepidation and anxiety about the chopper.  My concerns are twofold:  1) don't want to cut off a finger and 2) don't want to make bad cuts.  Losing a finger is just bad, period.  But think of  losing the ability to use the international symbol of disapproval!  That can be so handy in traffic.  Bad cuts mean joining is sloppy if even it is possible which means I should have just lit some cash on fire.  I think I can get through it.  After all since I don't have a framing school to go to yet, I have to get this all figured out.  The need to be TCB is high.  I feel certain I will have to be wearing a doo rag. 

I think I'll be pretty good at joining the frames since it requires a good deal of precision.  Plus, I really like things that fit together correctly.  I feel confident about mat cutting and the final fitting.  Cutting the glass doesn't scare me like it did now that the big cutter is operational.  We shall see how things progress, but I am hopeful about a good outcome. 

Owner doesn't think she is a very good teacher, but I disagree.  She doesn't beat the issues to death, and she is happy to set me out on my own to figure it out, which I prefer.  I have always far preferred learning by doing with a modicum of instruction.  I can always ask questions, and I am not working on anything to start with that a customer will ever see.   All-in-all, I'm feeling pretty good about how things are moving along.  So with that, I am headed to the shop where I hope we sell lots of frames and mats in the sale, and I hope I come home with all digits undisturbed! 

Thinkin 'bout the good stuff!

Last week I got to meet a young woman who made me think about all that's good in this world.  So often it seems we/I focus on the failures of our society.  When I think that 1 in 8 families in the US is dealing with hunger, I'm well aware something is definitely out of kilter, and there is much work to do; however, from time-to-time, I think the human psyche, individually and collectively, needs some motivation, a pat on the back, an "atta boy or girl".  I know mine sure does.  It's easy to see so many things around us that need to be made better. The ever-present need for instant gratification, makes it difficult to perceive "the arc of the moral universe" and its bent toward justice, and we, I, need a reminder of its course.  I want to take this moment to tell you about some of the good in this world.

Nichole Ledford is the first owner of a Habitat for Humanity home in Pope County.  I had heard about Nichole, but I had not met her.  Habitat as a movement has always made good sense to me.  Meeting Nichole only confirmed my belief in the organization.  Nichole is a single mother of 4 children, the oldest of whom is 10.  Shortly after being widowed the family's home was destroyed by a fire.  Nichole applied to Habitat and was chosen.  Together, they built a house, and now she has set about the business of making it a home for her family. 

Nichole came in the shop last week to pick out some art for the new house.  As she perused the prints, many of which were Arkansas scenes, she was naming the locations.  She was recalling briefly times past when she had been camping at such-and-such with so-and-so.  She was remembering happy days.  That made me smile with and for her, well and for me too because I was getting to witness it.  What I loved most about her was the sense of hope she exuded.  Here was a woman looking toward her future full-on when by all rights she could easily have been chained to her past.  That's impressive.  She found her print, mat and frame, and as Owner was getting all that together, Nichole and I began to visit.  We talked about the work of building the house, how she had done more things than she could have ever imagined.  She never saw herself hanging drywall or laying tile, but the pride and gratefulness in her speech and on her face made me think, "this is good.  really, really good". 

Having met Nichole, hearing her story, learning of her determination to move forward made me just plain feel good deep in my bones.  I was proud of the community where I live.  I was heartened to know that we can make a difference; we DO make a difference for good and justice in this world, and what a difference it can be.  I was super happy that she found a piece of art that made her happy, and that would help make her new house become her new home. 

Learn more about Habitat For Humanity here:  http://www.habitat.org

The 3 "R's": Retail, Recycling & ReUsing

We are having a “attic” sale, in case you haven’t heard, beginning on Sept 17.  I have been charged with getting the attic (storeroom area with a teeny tiny attic space) ready for the sale.  It’s mostly a job of organization, and I'm kind of into that.  OK, who am I kidding?  OCD me is so excited he might pee his pants!  It's like a theme park thrill ride for OCD me.  Imagine all that clearing out, cleaning up, labeling bins and shelves!  Seriously, that is living the dream: a place for everything and everything in its place.   
Since I began working at The Frame Shop & Gallery, I have been aware that Owner is a re-user and a re-purposer of things.  It's a good quality especially in a businessperson.  It was not an oddity to me to discover Owner is a re-purposer because my dad was as well.  She has repurposed many items especially for the storage of scrap moulding.
While working on the attic, I couldn’t help but be reminded of my dad when I saw several big, old, metal coffee cans erupting with some leftover mouldings.  You see, my dad saved a lot of stuff. He saved plastic milk jugs out of which he could make ice blocks for the ice chest or he would fill them with concrete to use as anchors. He saved coffee cans, lots of them, which, in the words of Pooh, can be "a useful pot to put things in". I think he saved every Styrofoam coffee cup he ever got, and he did reuse them sometimes for coffee or to sprout seeds to be transplanted to the garden. He saved pieces of packing Styrofoam to make "corks" (bobbers) to use when fishing.  He was the king of repurposing items, and as such we, his children, often laughingly and lovingly refer to him as "the original recycler". If he could conceive of a way to make an item serve a new purpose, whether that ever came to fruition or not, he saved it.  Were you to open his trunk or look in the bed his truck, you would find any number of things he had saved because he could use it for fill-in-the-blank someday.  Someday rarely comes when you have too much saved stuff as in 143 styrofoam coffee cups.  At some point, it really does just become junk. 

God bless my mother.   

Owner, like my dad, can find a use for almost anything others would likely discard without a second thought. As it happens, I have a bit of the same bent. I wash and reuse Ziploc bags unless they've had onions in them; you will never get that smell out.  I save bubble wrap.  I have actually saved Styrofoam which I reused when packing for my last move.  Don’t misunderstand:  While I appreciate the art of reusing, and I engage in it from time-to-time, I also am a fan of getting rid of extraneous stuff.  My sister might disagree after having seen my garage, but in my defense, there is only so much stuff one can cram in the trash (or recycling bin), and I didn’t have a truck to haul it off.  Regardless, reusing a few milk jugs is one thing, but having a stash of say 10 or 15 is unnecessary.  How many anchors does one man really need?  There’s a fine line between saving for reuse and an audition for “Hoarders”.  Thankfully, Owner doesn’t seem to have my father’s affliction of over-saving everything; we are cleaning house!  Out with the old and in with the new!

Now, I’m off to the shop to make ready the “attic”.  I hope I get to see some of you during the sale.  We have much to offer, and the prices just can’t be beat!  33 Year Attic Sale – Sept 17-22.

Fletch(er) Lives and the Mexican Prison Bus

Upon entering the shop yesterday afternoon, I found a note from Owner written out on scrap mat board with a list of items I was to work on. It looked like a fairly easy list: move a computer, clean out and organize a box of Art Walk supplies, price Velcro dots in bulk, repair point drivers.  Huh? Do what? Repair point drivers?  Do we sell golf clubs?  What IS a point driver?  I was a bit confused. Instead of trying to figure it out immediately, I went ahead with the easy stuff on the list. i.e. those things I actually understood.

Later, in the work area, I noticed a basket full of the staple gun thingies we use to shoot brads in frames to hold mats etc inside the frames.  There were some printed instructions lying there with them. It finally dawned on me through the haze of allergy medication: the staple gun thingies ARE the "point drivers".  (My genius astounds me sometimes.)

Some who know me may not think of me as being particularly handy, and I'm not so sure I would say that I am, but I am fairly determined, and since I had some instructions, I figured I could make it work.

I was reminded of being in Mexico with friends a few years back. We were riding mopeds and found ourselves off the paved road headed toward the jungle.  One of my friends was lagging behind due to a muffler malfunction on his moped. We stopped to wait for him at the head of the jungle path. When he caught up to us, his muffler was dragging on the ground, slowing him down considerably and making crazy noises every bit as annoying as finger nails on a chalkboard but much, much louder. About the same time he caught up, we heard the sound of a truck coming through the jungle, and it was headed toward us. The path we were on was narrow; it was not a road.  What could this be?  Knowing us, it was probably wasn't going to be good.

A large van began to appear.  It was pushing aside banana trees and other jungle flora as it made its way. The hood of the van was painted with several words. The one I recognized was "Policia".  Great.  As the van drew nearer, we could hear the sounds of lots of men yelling. Finally the van was upon us. Where there should have been sides and windows on the van, there were bars! As in prison bars. The van stopped. I have no idea what was being said, but it didn't sound good at all.  The men behind the bars were screaming, shaking on the bars, and it was just the tiniest bit scary. (Thanks Hollywood; job well done). So at this point, I'm thinking, "No freaking way, am I going down like this, and please lord don't let Montezuma’s revenge strike now!"

Not wanting to die in the jungles of Mexico murdered by some lawless criminals or end up in a Mexican prison (again, hats off to Hollywood), I was determined we were going to get the "H" out of Dodge. Pronto! I began examining the moped, and I decided I could fix it. I had a backpack on, and it had an extra strap. Using a stick and a rock for tools, I affixed the muffler (still really hot) to the moped using the strap together with a piece of metal found on the roadside in hopes of preventing the muffler falling off again. Victory! Muffler was repaired, we all lived, and I was given the nickname "MacGyver" for the duration of the trip.  So I figured if I can fix a moped in the middle of the hot, steamy Mexican jungle while being harassed by a busload of criminals, surely I can repair a point driver in an air conditioned building with the aid of instructions and proper tools.
 
Only one of the Fletcher point drivers was operational.  I used that as my baseline for acceptable point penetration into the frame moulding.  With the help of the instructions, I got two of the four non-functioning point drivers fixed in fairly short order; the other two were less cooperative. I decided I would have to go in; surgery was required. As I opened the first one up, a large spring sprung out nearly taking out my eye.  (No, I didn’t wear protective eye gear.  Lesson learned:  Framing can be dangerous; wear eye protection).  After about half an hour in the O.R., I realized the damage could not be repaired.  They both needed a transplant.  Lucky for the point drivers, springs are pretty easy to come by.  They should be good as in new within the next week. 

Sleeping in your tennis shoes

It's a beautiful day in New York City according to the Weather Channel.  I cannot confirm that information personally since I am still in Arkansas.  I missed my flight yesterday morning, and despite many attempts to get on another one, including talking to at least 5 different Delta agents, I was not able to make it happen.  If I had an extra grand to spend on the fair difference, I could have done it.  Pretty much I am completely bummed out about not making the trip, and in truth, I'm a bit heart-sick.  I was looking very forward to spending time with some of my dearest friends.  I have the feeling that I let my friends down, and I really hate that. 

After the Art Walk on Friday, which was a great success by my measure, I went to see some folks here in town.  I got home later than I had intended, but I truly thought I would be able to rally and get myself together.  I woke up at 3:00 AM, as planned, did a couple of things to get ready; sat down on the bed, and next thing I know it was 2 hours later!  Even in what is presumably non-existent predawn traffic, I could not have made the hour plus trip to the airport in time for my 6:00 AM flight.      

When I was in college, working 40 hours a week and taking a full course load, I would often stay up most Thursday nights studying.  Typically, I would go to bed around 4 in the morning or so.  In an effort to make sure I would get up at 8 to make it to class, I would sleep in my tennis shoes.  I have no idea how I stumbled upon that trick or why that seemed to work, but it did.  (I'm going to go out on a limb here and say it probably helped that I was considerably younger then).  Who knows?  At any rate, I tried the same trick Friday night, and it worked.  At least I got up;  I just didn't stay up.  All that to say, I am still in Arkansas having not-so-great feelings about it presently.  Naturally, I want to blame Delta since had I not been bumped from the 10:30 flight, I would have been golden, but Delta didn't stay out too late, and Delta didn't not get up in time to get to the airport.

Lessons learned: BriGuy needs to make reasonable plans and sleeping in tennis shoes isn't a sure thing.  As Daddy always said, "Each day is a do-over" - another chance to get it right.  Onward and upward. 

Art Walk was a blast.  I saw what seemed like scores of people I hadn't seen in years.  I hugged more necks than I have in the previous 5 years combined.  I met and had the chance to visit with a couple of the artists we represent in the gallery.  A hightlight of the night for me:  A woman, whom I know I am supposed to know, who knew me, and so I couldn't ask her name (bad, I know), walked around the gallery showing me some of her favorite works.  Here is what I loved most:  She was admiring what she thought were six or seven new pieces.  I did not tell her that, in fact, those were NOT new pieces; they had just been rehung.  It felt good that all my staring, contemplation and wall vacuuming seemed to have paid off.  Mission accomplished:  people were seeing the art anew.

It was definitely a lot of work to get ready for Art Walk, but it was completely worth it.  It was a great night and fun for all I think.  After it was all said and done, Owner told me this was probably the hardest part of the job.  I smiled inside.  That was further confirmation for me that this just might be the right-est move I have ever made.

"It's the day of the show y'all!"

Art Walk is today!  We are sooooo close to being ready.  I only have about 57 things to get done and we'll be all set!  Seriously, I have a list of about 57 things to do.  Poor Owner.  I hope I'm not stressing her out.  Owner if you're reading, I am all about TCB and gettin 'er dun.  It's how I roll. 

Tomorrow I head off to NYC.  I was supposed to be going to a framing boot camp run by none other than the one and only Guerrilla Framer himself, but the class was canceled.  C'est la vie.  So, I'm going to spend the week going to frame shop/galleries asking questions and taking pictures trying to learn what I can about the business and how to organize and store the myriad items one needs to have a framing business.  You really can't imagine all the "stuff" one needs and accumulates.  It's a bit overwhelming.  It should be informational, educational and enjoyable.  How bad can 5 days looking at art be?  Plus, I've never had a bad time in New York, and I'm going to get to see many friends which makes the trip worth it regardless of anything else.   Unfortunately, I have a 6:00 AM flight - it used to be a 10 AM flight, but Delta changed the flight time.  Thanks Delta.  You're a real peach.

Yesterday, I got to see one of my favorite people.  Schweg is her name, well it's a nickname.  Her daughter "Aude" and I have been friends since we were little children.  I hadn't seen the Schweg, or the Schwegmeister as we sometimes referred to her, in many years.   She brought many items to be framed, and naturally, we visited for so long that she had to leave before we had a chance to look at mouldings or mats.  Clearly, I am shaping up to be a very hard-sell kind of retailer.  It was definitely the highlight of my day.

I'm not sure how everything will come together for tonight's Art Walk, but it will.  What will be interesting is what I wind up packing for my trip.  Since I'll be packing in a rush, I'm pretty sure I'll wind up dressing like a mismatched hobo while I'm in the Big Apple.  The last time I packed at a whirlwind's pace, I left all my pants, sans those I was wearing, lying across my bed.  Hard to believe I'm a nearly 40 year old man sometimes.  Haste makes waste as they say, and I suppose packing in a hurry makes one naked in public?  But really...what's one more guy in New York without pants on going to hurt?

So, I'm off to finish my many tasks before the Art Walk tonight.  Arkansas friends, if you can make it down, I'd love to see you.  Hope you all have a great Friday! 

P.S.  I've had a couple of comments about font size being too small.  Let me know if I need to change it.  I'll be happy to increase it or recommend a good optometrist. 

Staring at The Walls & Hugging Customers

Remember that kid in elementary school who would stare at the wall, his mouth open just a little with an utterly vacuous look on his face?  Well, that was me yesterday just 35 years older.  I spent a good part of the day staring.  I did manage to keep my mouth closed except when I was talking to myself.  (Yes, I do answer my own questions, and no, I don't think that makes me insane and neither do my other selves).  Truly, it takes an incredible amout of thought to rehang a gallery full of paintings in a meaningful way.  Certainly, I was tempted simply to hang them up and hope for the best, but that was a fleeting thought.  There is no room for carelessness in this process.  One has to think about the space between and not just the objects themselves.  Seeing the sight lines, creating them.  All-in-all it is time-consuming work, but it is incredibly satisfying to see the fruits of all that staring.  Today, I plan to get all remaining pieces hung and all the pottery displayed.  Grand plans, but hope springs eternal!  Good thing it's a fun way to pass the time. 

On another note, I have decided how I will solve my shirt tucking problem.  I think I shall simply begin wearing overalls.  I liked wearing them as a kid, so why not now?  I loved riding my bike as a kid, and I love riding my bike now.  Granted, I might look a bit like a weirdo or a kook, but what the hey!  NOTE:  The likelihood of me actually wearing overalls to work is about slim to none.  Many have suggested suspenders with my pants, but I have never had much luck with suspenders; they tend to work too well and I end up looking very Steve Urkel.

Last bit of news before I head off.  A customer came in yesterday, a woman I haven't seen in probably 15 years.  I had just seen her mother last week.  I said to her, "I just love your mother!"  I couldn't believe I said it, but I did it.  And when she was leaving, I gave her a hug.  Now, that is life in a small town.  I'm not much of a hugger, but it seemed liked the most natural thing in the world to do.  Connectedness & community make you feel good even for us non-huggers.   I hope you have an experience today that makes you feel like you've been hugged.


"A good painting to me has always been like a friend.  It keeps me company, comforts and inspires."  Hedy Lamarr.

Keeping Your Shirt Tucked In

Yesterday, I was on my own at the Frame Shop.  Owner was out for the day, but I assured her all would be well, and that I was all about TCB (Takin Care of B'ness).    Thankfully, I had no customers ask me any hard questions, like "how much does that cost?"  You see, I haven't yet learned fully how to price things like mats, glass and frames.  And by "fully" I really mean at all.  The pricing isn't hard, but it's the measuring that requires some skill.  A woman came in with three very old, small watercolors done by her son's grandmother which she wanted to have matted and framed for him.  (Really nice of her and naturally I wanted to help her get something not just suitable but perfect, because like that's just the nicest thing to do for your kid.  I bet he cries when he gets them; well, he should anyway).  We found the right mat, selected a simple and tasteful moulding - I grabbed one out of existing stock that I eyeballed and figured would be enough to frame all the pieces in case it was a discontinued item or some other kind of newbie framer nightmare.  Much to my surprise she never asked how much it would be.  What a relief!  Granted, I need to let her know how much it will be and when the job will be completed, but I was really glad not to have to attempt pricing on my own.  BriGuy was TCB. 

You know when you get something new for your house like a pillow for the sofa or a new vase and you start fiddling around with where it looks best?  Next thing you know you're thinking "maybe if that chair was over there and that side table was next to the other chair..."  Before you know it, you've completely rearranged the entire living room.  Well, that's what happened to me yesterday.  Owner and I had decided to move a polyptych (a painting of 4 or more panels (sic) - totally had to look that up) before the Art Walk on Friday.  I know myself fairly well.  The minute I took the first panel down, I knew this was going to be one of those times when nothing was safe from my moving mania.  Again my OCD friend paid me a visit.  It became obvious that I needed to do some light dusting which naturally means drag out the vacuum and begin vacuuming the entire brick wall aided by a 10 foot ladder and the longest vacuum hose extension I've ever seen.  Remember, I am supposed to be minding the shop and helping customers - normal retail stuff, right?  Presumably one should look decent and not like he was mowing the yard.  Fail.  I had on decent clothes and my awesome new shoes, but when you're vacuuming a 20' high brick wall, you be doin some fo real work!  I found myself engaged in the battle of keeping my shirt tucked in while combating pervasive perspiration.  (Thank god for paper towels).  It's really hard to go up and down a ladder holding a vacuum cleaner tank and giant hose, clean the wall AND keep your shirt tucked in your britches no matter how tight you make your belt.  In fact about 3 hours in I simply gave up.  Lesson learned:  do this kind of stuff when the store is closed and don't wear khakis and a button-down to do it. 

It's time for me to head down to the shop for another day of hanging art.  I must tell you, it is really a gift to be able to work with art.  I enjoy seeing it and engaging it, if you get that, in an effort to try to find a place where it can best be seen and tell its story.  More on that later!  Have a great day.

Mats, Mounting & Embracing my OCD...

Yesterday, I did my first vacuum mount and cut mat board.  Yee Haw!  I know that may not sound like it's very difficult, BUT for someone like me who is a wee bit obsessive, it was a challenge to make sure I fully understood the process soup to nuts (whatever that really means).  But more than being somewhat difficult, it was actually a lot of fun.  Yes, I said fun, and no, it isn't because of the contact high I am sure one can easily get from the spray adhesive.  And NO, I haven't tried it.  In fact, to avoid the fumes and subsequent momentary intoxication, Owner devised a most ingenious solution:  tuck your nose into your shirt while spraying.  It is cheaper than face masks, you look just as crazy and is equally effective! 

The difficult part of mounting prints:  Spray adhesive is sticky and unforgiving and OCD people don't like sticky.  EVER!

Lucky for me, I was only mounting pictures from a magazine* and not someone's priceless item.  I had the chance to mount someone's photo, but Owner saw the look of horror on my face at the mere suggestion and gave me another option.  Whew; bullet dodged.  True enough, the process really is easy as long as one doesn't rush and screw it up.  Apparently, I have some skill (or I like to think so) as my three mounts turned out just right.  There were no pesky wrinkles on the prints, and I deemed it a success.  The hard part of the process is affixing the print/art after it has been sprayed with adhesive to the mounting surface.  It takes a bit of time and precision and this is where the OCD comes in quite handy.
*Find a cool pic in a magazine, in a calendar or wherever and I can mount and mat it for you!

The fun part of matting:  Picking out the mat board. 

I am sure I could spend 3 hours looking for the right mat without any problem except that taking 3 hours to select a mat IS a problem.  But in defense of my OCD, there are approximately 740 million mat board colors and types from which to choose.  All that to say, it was pretty much a blast selecting the right mat board to complement the prints.  (Your nerd-alert should be sounding any time now).    I can hardly wait until I start putting frames together with mats and prints.  Remember the Dr. Pepper commercials in the 80's where everyone was happy, singing and dancing in the streets and they were so darn glad to be a Pepper?  Well, that's pretty much the scene in my head while I'm doing this stuff.  I assure you in my erstwhile career that was never the case.  (Your nerd-alert probably just broke).

And to top my day off, I got a new pair of kicks to help me be the best FramerGuy I can be.  I haven't worked on my feet this much since I worked at the Western Sizzlin way back when! 

Ok, so my new shoes and I are off to The Frame Shop & Gallery for a little more fun with framing!  Have a great Labor Day weekend and don't forget to put those white shoes away.  Ciao!

P.S.  Shoes came from Feltner's in Russellville.