When I was eight years old, I went to the local art festival with my mom. We wove in and out of booths, looking at ceramics and jewelry. The street was packed with people. Most of the displays were covered over with awnings, paintings mounted along the temporary walls.
One woman, however, sat alone at an open table, canvases stacked and scattered all around. No one was looking at her work. The sun was blazing down. Out of some eight-year-old pity, I approached, picked through a few pieces and asked my mom if we could buy one.
She asked the woman how much she wanted for the one I selected. I don’t remember how much the woman said, but my mom agreed, so it can’t have been much.
And that’s how I acquired my first Alyne Harris art.
I remember the three penguins reminded me of my own family. My mom and dad hugging, and me, standing off to the side. (I guess I didn’t think too carefully about the little birds hopping around).
For some time, every year after that, I picked up another piece of her work at the festival. The older I got, the higher the prices got, and the more packed the booth became. There had been an article about her in the local paper, and people had taken note.
My mom helped me frame some of the paintings, but they never really felt quite right (except for one frame, which was oddly perfect), and most of the frames I’d personally picked out as a kid clashed when collected together.
I got rid of most of the frames, eventually, and resolved to figure out something else.
When it came time to decorate my new apartment, I realized what my problem with the frames had been. Frames felt restrictive when compared to the relative freedom of Alyne Harris’s art.
The edges of many of her paintings are unfinished; sometimes she doesn’t even bother painting a background on an entire canvas. It’s emotional painting, unfettered, and a frame just seems to box that emotion in.
I purchased supplies and tools to build frames myself, but devised a different scheme. It would probably be frowned upon by most artists, but I figured if worse came to worst, you could still recover the canvases.
I measured and cut 1.5”x0.5”x4’ hobby board from the hardware store (like this, but in poplar) into pieces that matched the length of the sides of each painting. Then I painted each board (save for one wider side that I planned to attach to the back of the canvas).
I drilled matching holes in each piece, about 1/3 of the way down the back, and screwed hardware in to hang the painting.
Now for the slightly scandalous part: I used wood glue to attach the wood to the paper backing of the canvas board, clamping each corner shut for 4-6 hours to achieve a good hold.
After wiring up the hardware, the paintings are now frame-free and ready to hang.
In the slew of alternative framing options, I thought I’d share my relatively economical anti-frame, in case anyone needed a solution for hanging flat canvas panels.
Tools
- Drill
- Miter box & saw
- Screw driver
- Wire cutters
- Wood glue
- Needle nose pliers (to help wrap the wire)
Supplies
- Hobby board
- Paint
- Mounting hardware
- Wire