For The Love Of The Frame

Away From The World

If you haven't already bought the new Dave Matthews Band album, you should.  It is, in the words of my friend DB, "stellar".  Go to iTunes and buy it right now.  It was while jamming to their new album (for about the 1100th time) that I think I might have fallen in love with framing.  It's been a short courtship to be sure.  That said, I have always heard people say things like, "if you love what you do then it isn't work."  "You should do what makes you happy, and it won't feel like work."   I understand intellectually these platitudes and sentiments, but being somewhat of a pessimist (at least in this regard), I have secretly thought, "Yeah, right.  Like that really happens.  Work is work." 

I have always worked a lot.  Even when I was working at the Western Sizzlin, I worked a lot.  Maybe I just like to work.  Probably do, but who really knows.  My relationship to work has been a recurring thought of late.  More often than not in the course of my career a 40 hour work week would have seemed like a vacation.  I worked at work; I worked at home; I worked on vacation.  (Yes, I realize there is some sort of insanity in those statements.  And to be fair, I have had vacations where I didn't work or even check my email, like maybe 3, but that counts). 

Usually when I work, my style is to have many things going at once.  It has been a requirement of the job.  I had to know every single thing that was going on with every single deal in the pipeline especially the closer it got to closing.  Knowledgable, ready response across a myriad of deals was an expection of my clientele and my employers, unwritten as it might have been.   As such, that has been my M.O., and honestly, it suited me.  My brain seems to work better when there is some madness in the mix. A sense that "it' can't be done, but it must be done" seems to have been a constant.  Frenetic functioning is a gift I have, if one can call it that.  Regardless, it has served me well in some respects.  But there is a down side.  Working like that is a little crazy.  Something is off about it.  I see it now, but long before I saw it clearly, I felt it.  There is some motivation inside that need to work that is not exactly right, but I'm figuring it out.

Part of my venture into the framing business was an attempt to save myself, well, from myself.  Granted one can work for work's sake in any business or profession, but with this gig, I was have been motivated by a clear vision of how things could be different for me, different in a way that could help me be a better me.  As I told Owner at the outset, thinking about owning the frame shop looked like hope to me.  I particularly needed a big shot of hope when this all came together considering my last position in the terror, I mean title and escrow business.  So what in the world does all this have to do with Dave Matthews?  I'll tell you.

Last week I had an unexpected but welcome experience.  I was in the back of the shop making frames - doing some light sanding in preparation of joining a frame and totally jamming out to Dave Matthews; doo rag on, tunes cranked.  I was in my zone, and it was awesome.  I knew what I had to do, and I was getting it done.  Then out of the clear blue as the lyric "you can't get too much love" rang in my ears, I had a realization, a moment of clarity where time seemed to stop and invite me to enjoy this morsel.  I was having fun, and I felt like I was falling in love all at once.  And then it hit me, "AND I'm working!"  Whoa.  What a radical shift.  Boy did that seem weird.  Was I having real fun?  Yes, real fun.  Falling in love with it?  Like feel it in your belly love?  Yep, same thing.  It was love like a good hug, and it was fun like playing with Lincoln Logs or Legos, riding my bike fun, having cocktails with my friends kind of fun.  I can honestly say I don't think I've ever had that sensation while working - NEVER ever. 

Now, being overly-analytical-BriGuy, naturally, I tried to examine what I loved and what made it fun.  A little bit killed the moment, but not entirely.  Was I into chopping?  Joining the frame?  Working on a bunch of different stuff at once, moving from project-to-project?  Well, it was all of it.  The whole process was engaging me.  But then it became obvious: I was enjoying using my head and my hands to craft a thing of beauty.  Creating beauty is what I was loving, and that was the fun.   

I will probably always have a tendency to work too much.  But if you know me, you know I'm an intense guy, and maybe a bent toward working too much just part of who I am.  Temperance is necessary to be sure, but let me say this:  If I am going to work too much, I would sure as hell rather be making frames than dealing with easement and zoning issues for the ungrateful owner of a car parts store or a hotel I'll never step foot in! 

They call the framing business "The Happy Business", and I think I'm finding out why.  And with that, I'm off to bang out some frames, make some people happy (including myself) and have a little fun. 

Better Angels of Political Framing?

I'm attending a political fundraiser tonight.  It's not a pie supper like I used to go to when my dad was campaigning, dang it!  I loved those.  Best pies ever.  I've been to many political events, but this one is different.  This event is for a man whose party affiliation is different from mine.  Not just his party affiliation is different, but his stance on certain issues which are near and dear to me is 180 degrees different.  I must say I never thought I, of all people, would ever agree to attend such an event.  Offhand, it seems out of character for me, but at second glance maybe not so much.  I'm looking at this a bit as if I have been asked to frame the ugliest thing I have ever seen.  Would I frame it even though I don't like it?  You bet I would.  For starters, I'm in the business of framing! 

It makes sense I really like to frame things I personally find appealing and that match my own aesthetic.  Framing something I don't particularly like? Well, that can present a challenge. It is with these projects that I have to "cross the aisle", so to say.   As a framer my role is to use my sense of proportion, scale and color theory to create something the customer finds to be lovely, something that works for her, that makes her smile inside and out.

Personally, in order for me to be effective in almost anything I do, I need information.   I need details, and I need to see the big picture.  Creating a connection between BriGuy and fill-in-the-blank, is necessary for me to be effective.  I've never accepted "just because" as a reason or an explanation.  I need a broader view in order for me to comprehend a more focused view.  In framing the first step is to have a conversation about the "thing".   "Do you have any ideas about what you want it to look like?"  "Who made it?" "Where did it come from?" Why is it important to you?" "Where is it going to hang?"   Catch my drift?  Information helps me apply my skills more deftly. I am committed to providing quality products of which I am proud, and I am committed to having happy customers.  To do that, sometimes I have to set aside for a bit my own viewpoint/opinion in order to gain a clearer perspective.

So back to tonight's event...why am I going to attend?  Good question.  I've been asking myself the same thing.  I guess it comes down to this:  if I really believe what I say, which is we all benefit from collaboration & conversation versus polarization & exclusion, then I should go.  "All politics are local."  That's what they say.  If that's true, then I have even more of a reason to attend.  To be honest, I don't know many people across the aisle from me, not really.  I may know who some are, but we don't talk.  We don't have conversations. I have preconceived notions about what kind of people "they" are.  Seems to me that kind of living and thinking isn't working too well for us. 

People like to be in a herd.  I get it.  I like to be surrounded by people who are like-minded, who agree with my positions.  Who doesn't?  BUT, and that's a big but, how can any of us expect our representatives to be civil, engaged with each other and much less effective, if we ourselves cannot do the same within our own communities?

I know this post might be kinda preachy which isn't the aim, but this is my blog after all.  I went back-and-forth on whether to share it or not.  And I know my thoughts may seem rather Pollyanna-ish and a little pie-in-the-sky.  I guess I am an idealist.  But so what?  Ideals are what drive people.  Who does it hurt to think about the possibility of people with disparate beliefs interacting, conversing and believing that by doing so we might actually forge benefits for us all?

Bottom line:  if we can't/don't talk to folks in our own communities who have differing beliefs and opinions, how would or why should we expect our elected officials to act any differently?  Change happens from the inside out.  If we stay away from each other, become enemies, what good can that possibly bring?

Neurotic Balance

The more I frame and the more I blog, the more I am aware of what I call my neuroses or OCD me.  Clearly, I am a bit type "A".  Some who are reading this may chuckle at that and think, "a bit?".  Hey, I no longer have marks on my closet rod where the hangers should go.  Progress?  Indeed.  While I don't wholly lament my tendencies toward perfectionism, I do see some of the limitations and challenges of the same.  I am also aware that having a perfectionistic bent can be handy as it can push one toward succeeding and toward mastery.  Without the aid of OCD me, do you think I would have spent an hour cleaning an 8x10 piece of glass?  No, I don't either because that is crazy with a "K"!   

That being said, a particular challenge for me is not being too hard on myself and maintaining realistic expectations.  (See previous blog post)  As a manager of people, I would never expect an employee to have gained a comprehensive knowledge and understanding of a new line of work in only a matter of weeks.  It seems I should give myself the same consideration, right?  Well, I don't.  At least I don't without conscious thought and concerted effort.  Owner has never said she was displeased with my work.  In fact, she has said the opposite which helps me be less of a taskmaster to myself.  In fact, her encouragement helps me believe I just might become a good framer and retailer after all!

Yesterday, I was charged with cutting moulding for a few projects we needed to get completed.  After measuring, measuring again, measuring again, measuring again and yes, measuring again, I cut.  In joining the lengths, I ran into a problem.  The corners are supposed to line up on top, along the spine and on the bottom of the frame, but mine did not.  Curses, I say!  Curses!  I asked Owner for assistance.  NOTE:  OCD people and true perfectionists don't ask for help.  (BriGuy's Guide to Psychological Dysfunctions; to be released 2013).  Owner explained what seemed to be causing the misaligned corners.  Ugh.  I thought I had checked that.  In fact, I was sure I had checked it, but obviously I hadn't.  Mind spinning, frustration building, I had to walk away.  Since I'm blogging about this 24 hours later, obviously, it had some effect on me.  Some time later, after completing a different project, I had to leave a little early to meet the bug man at my mother's house.  BUT I was coming back.  I was going to win this little war of framer vs. misaligned moulding! 

I arrived back at the shop a little after sixish to settle this once and for all.  Straight-backed and exuding confidence, I walked to the workroom to meet the joiner and moulding for the showdown.  Imagine my surprise when I found a note, written on scrap mat board of course, from Owner lying beside the offending moulding, stating, "6:00.  I had the same problem.  We'll deal with it tomorrow."  Huge sigh of relief.  HUGE! 

If the woman who has framed original Picassos and who has been doing this for 33 years is having the same difficulty as I, then maybe this situation was beyond BriGuy's control.  What a radical notion!  So, today, I will remember that not everything can be known and not everything can be controlled.  And now I set out to start this framer guy's day encouraged that a little crazy can make a good framer, but a lot of crazy will just make you crazy. 

Math & Mental Maladies

I spoke too soon.  I suffered my first framing accident resulting in bodily harm.  I was cutting glass.  Actually, I was slivering glass - just the word slivering causes my stomach to turn a bit.  Anyway, in the process of slivering, my hand slipped and then the blood.  I don't really have a blood phobia, but I don't really cotton to it flowing freely from my own body either.  I didn't so much cut myself as remove a large portion of skin from my right ring finger.  Of course it hurt like the dickens, but I persevered.  Saturday was my sister's birthday, and I was framing a gift for her - a picture she drew as a child - when the injury occurred.  Lucky for me Owner has a ready stash of band aids which I found without too much of a search.  The thought had crossed my mind I might have to MacGyver a bandage out of leftover mat board and scotch tape! 

Saturday, I completed my first project for a paying customer on my own.  I did it all.  Cut the mats and moulding, joined the frame, cut the glass and fit everything together.  I would like to say that it all went smashingly well without complication, but alas, I cannot.  Thankfully, I have a full head of hair so all the attempts at removing it during the process are scarcely noticeable.  The problem began with fractions.  (If any math teacher I ever had is reading this, I apologize. You were right: I shouldn't have talked during class).  I didn't like fractions in the 3rd grade, the 7th grade or now.  Fractions are confusing to me.  This is a malady I come by naturally.  My parents, both well-educated, told a story from their early married life in which they were trying to figure out what 1/2 of 2/3's is or maybe it was what 1/3 plus 1/3 is.  At any rate, it took them way too long to get it figured out.  So you see, I am at least the second generation of inadequate fractioneers.   

If I had any clue what a centimeter really looked like, I would be all for the metric system.  All this 5/8" plus 1/4" stuff really is just for the birds.  Sorry birds.  That said, I have got to get over my issues with fractions since pretty much everything I do involves fractions and sometimes converting them to metric.  We measure and cut everything, except mats, using the Imperial system or standard measurements (seems odd that it's called "standard" since we are the only country still using it, but whatev).  While working on this particular project on my own, I got just the tiniest bit frustrated with the math.  I had to get Owner to intervene, and then I got just an eencey, teencey bit, just a smidge I assure you, agitated with myself for not understanding instantly and precisely every single flipping thing Owner was explaining to me.  I mean, let's be reasonable.  I've been doing this framing gig for almost two months, I should be an expert, right?!  Yeah, I know that's pretty crazy, but that's how I roll - sometimes.  Thankfully, I got over my crazy long enough to get the pieces cut and assembled.  It really looked beautiful.  Before I put on the backing, the final step, I looked at the almost finished product with a fair amount of pride.  I should have been proud.  I had sustained injury and endured; I experienced extreme mental duress and persevered, and I broke the chains of fraction hell to win the day!  I added the backing, put on the hangers, and voila!  C'est finit!   

Not so fast kemosabe.  While admiring my handiwork, I noticed a tiny, little piece of something inside the glass.  (NOTE:  any unwanted particle in the framing biz is called a "booger".  Totally gross, but it is what it is).  So, here in my finished product was a booger.  A tiny black speck staring at me and practically laughing right in my face.  It was probably imperceptible to most, but it was all I could see.  Nothing to do but rip the backing off and get this right.  I did just that.  Ripped of the backing, removed the offending booger, sealed 'er up again only to be faced with other boogers that had crept in from nowhere with the singular purpose of taunting me.  Twice more I "finished", and twice more I battled the boogers, driving them off my mat and out of my frame until finally victory was mine! 

The piece turned out beautifully.  All the parts, handsome in their own right, came together creating a whole that was much more beautiful than simply the sum of its fraction-laden parts.  The final test in successful framing is, of course, customer satisfaction.  I am happy to report, the customer was well-pleased.  Plop plop fizz fizz...

I'm pretty sure there is a lesson in all of this, ok, I'm certain of it.  Lessons learned:   1) Blood in inevitable. After all, framing is dangerous.   2) Fractions really are the Devil.  3) Ridiculous expectations of oneself are just that: ridiculous.  4) Quality products take time to make (and sometimes many attempts!) 5) Cut yourself some slack but not your finger.

Lighter Fluid & Razor Blades

Memory is short.  I completely forgot the havoc Arkansas allergens wreak on me.  I know it's autumn in Arkansas when I get shut down by allergies.  By shut down, I mean the kind of allergic reaction that forces one to bed for a couple of days, zaps him of all energy and generally renders him useless.  I had forgotten about this minor inconvenience of the Natural State.  Thankfully, I have been able to obtain some meth-making chemicals (formerly known as nasal decongestants),  some vitamins, and antihistamines to assist in my battle against the considerable downside of this particular sort of allergic reaction.
 
Note to non-Arkansans:  If you suffer from allergies and are ever traveling to Arkansas bring Mucinex D or any other "D" variety meds with you because without a prescription you cannot get any decongestants containing the all-important "D".  While I'm sure this requirement was intended to assist in the battle against meth production, it is a total bummer for the 99% of people who buy these kinds products for their intended use.  

All that to say, I am feeling more like myself thanks to a neighborly doctor and my friends at C&D Drug. 

Last I wrote, I was explaining the difficultly of glass cleaning in the framing world.  Believe or not, it gets more complicated.  I know!  Can you believe that?  I know what you are surely thinking, "Unbelievable!, Say ain't so!"  Friend, I'm afraid it is true. 

Yesterday, I found myself refitting a new mat with existing frames and glazing for a customer.  Before I could put everything together, naturally, the glass had to be cleaned.  I began the process using Owner's secret Windex recipe, the every handy paper towel and gloved hands.  Much to my chagrin, it became quickly apparent, this glass was not getting clean.  I needed backup.  Owner suggested I try some lighter fluid.  (Side note:  lighter fluid pretty much will get anything off anything.  Kind of amazing really.  Warning:  I was already feeling a little high from the Mucinex D and the lighter fluid fumes probably added to it considering my liberal use of the stuff inadvertent as it was.  Dangers await the framer at nearly every turn - glass shards, deadly fumes, limb-removing blades.  This can be a treacherous business, but onward I go.)
Unfortunately, not even the lighter fluid removed all the nasty from the glass.  Again, I asked Owner-Wan Kenobi  for direction.  She inspected the glass and quickly took a razor blade to it.  (Side note 2:  razor blades litter a frame shop.  We use them all the time for all sorts of tasks.  They are quite handy and useful; basically razor blades rock.  And so far, I've managed not to cut myself despite having tried to use one blade side up just the other day.  Oops!)  True to my experience, the razor blade did the trick.  Handy indeed!  Using the razor blade I was able to clean the glass to my satisfaction, well, almost to my satisfaction.  Owner agreed it was clean, but I had the niggling feeling that I probably could have done a little more; however, I had spent nearly an hour on two 8x10 pieces of glass.  I needed to be finished.  Chances are they were clean despite my Yoda-like intuition to the contrary.  After all, I am still but a padawan-learner.