Building a Frame for "My Little Rembrandt"

My friend Samson gave me this small 9"x9.5" painting by the artist Christopher Hanson. I admired its composition, shadowy effect, and especially the blue facial shadows! It has certain qualities that remind me of Rembrandt, and I've come to think of it as "my little Rembrandt." I also thought it needed at special frame.

My inspiration was this Renaissance frame that probably dates from the 1400s. I liked that it's primarily one color because I didn't want to detract from the image, especially since it's a rather small painting.

 

My plan was to build a simple frame and then adhere veneers with lasered patterns and columns designs. The first step, though, was making the inner frame, here shown as gold.

I found an old, blue frame in a thrift store, and my brother Cliff re-cut it to fit the painting. Next, I searched the internet and found a wonderful pattern for the horizontals, which I'll call the header and footer. 

Then I designed the capital for the two columns:

In the final product, the veneer was first painted gold, then the black of the design was burned into it by the laser, while the laser skipped whatever was white, leaving a gold design, like this:

 

It was less time-consuming to laser the column horizontally:

Here's my good friend Richard Radice, laser-cutting the veneers. He's constructed a box to contain the laser, and notice that he shields his eyes to even take a peek at the progress.

Meanwhile, my brother Cliff was helping me by constructing the "under frame." Because I was concerned that glue would get on the lasered veneers, I devised supports for the mouldings so that they would cantilever over the veneers, as shown below.

 And here's the finished frame:

 

A special thanks to my collaborators, Cliff and Richard!

My Philippe Le Roy Door

I have a hallway door that's been nondescript the whole time I've lived in the house. It leads to my utility closet and I pass it multiple times every day. I finally decided that it was time to bring it up a notch in appearance. The theme would be a portrait of Philippe Le Roy (1596-1679), a Flemish financier and diplomat.

Philippe Le Roy, the illegitimate grandson of a wealthy Antwerp merchant, became very successful through his own financial dealings, and that allowed him to acquire the rights to two villages and take the title, Lord of Ravels. As a diplomat, Philippe was instrumental in helping end the Thirty Years' War. I chose to paint him in large part because I think he has a marvelous face.

Here's the top panel of the door. I posed for the arm akimbo, and although I have relatively long fingers, they appeared a little stubby in the reference shot. So I lengthened them in PhotoShop. I also painted a Germanic sword that is of the proper time frame. It's called a "Katzbalger."

Katzbalger swords

I chose a quatrefoil design for the lower panel of the door, and I filled it with a Roman lion.

Click to enlarge

 The crown is actually proper for a Flemish earl of the 1600's.

Heraldry  |  McGraw-Hill

Click to enlarge

Click to enlarge

Click to enlarge

Thanks for watching!

My Second Renaissance Portrait

After collaborating with my brother Cliff on the first Renaissance portrait, we were both inspired to create a second portrait and frame. Besides, I wanted to have a companion piece for Umberto di Palma.

My inspiration was the portrait on the left by Domenico Ghirlandaio (1448-1494), a popular Florentine artist under whom Michelangelo apprenticed. On the right is my portrait in its early stage. As you will see, I used the Ghirlandaio portrait only as an outline, literally. The background will change entirely, and the features will of course become more refined.

For the tunic, I borrowed from the forceful portrait of Giovanni Emo, by the Venetian painter, Giovanni Bellini (1430-1516).

I look at many, many faces, taking a mouth from here and hair from there to create a composite face. I want it to be an attractive one, because it will be staring at me from my own wall!

And here's the finished portrait. I'm naming the sitter Lorenzo Grazioso, which translates from Italian as "Graceful Lorenzo" or "Charming Lorenzo."

Now it's time to frame Lorenzo. My intention is to match Umberto di Palma's frame in size and general style, but to make the details different.

                                                                                                                  Sailko

I became intrigued by carved frames of the Renaissance. This is Belinni's "Resurrection" from the Gemaldegalerie, Berlin. I decided to do my own version with the use of a laser. The design for the frame's side panels is drawn in black & white, and what is black, the laser cuts into the wood, and what is white, it skips. (Thanks to Richard Radice for his help arranging the laser cutting.)

My brother and I also had the capitals 3-D printed.

Here is the finished, framed portrait. My brother, Cliff constructed the frame, which I in turn painted. Inner frame by Richard Radice.

The legend translates as "Glory is in the Shadow of Virtue," which we can only wish was always the case!

And now Umberto di Palma and Lorenzo Grazioso share a wall in my house, one on either side of a window.

Click to enlarge

Thanks for visiting!

Creating a Renaissance Portrait and Frame

Several years ago, my brother Cliff and I visited the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D. C. We focused on the Renaissance paintings there, a favorite of which is Fra Filippo Lippi's Modonna and Child, below.

Cliff is a talented woodworker and was intrigued with the beautiful workmanship and construction of this frame — and of the other ornate ones there, too. He mentioned that he'd like to attempt making one, and I thought it would be equally fun to create a Renaissance portrait. And so a collaboration was born.

This is Cliff's initial frame design, and it's worth noting that all the wood and molding in this photo is from Home Depot. We made several modifications, and especially wanted classic capitals atop those fluted sides.

We opted for capitals made to size by 3-D printing. On the right, I've shined a bright light through the capital to show that the 3-D printing fabricates an inner honeycomb for strength and support.

I chose to create a variation of this portrait by the Flemish artist, Hans Memling (1430-1494). The sitter is unknown, but it is supposed that he was Italian. I admire the work of Memling, though I am bothered that the hand is crowded into the bottom corner, a format that Memling repeated in other portraits. Memling's clouds are also usually these sketchy suggestions. My biggest change is to alter the face to my liking, making the sitter a little less dour.
 

 

Here is my rendition, considerably brighter. The landscape hasn't changed much, but I've gone to town with the clouds — they look almost Art Deco! I've defined his tunic, and enlarged the hand and medallion. Below is a comparison.

Once the painting was finished, I returned to the frame, which was in pieces. Cliff and I determined that it would be easier to paint each part of the frame separately, then fit it together.

And here is the finished painting, with Cliff's frame. The inscription translates as "The High Reward of Honor," and I like to think that our sitter — whom I've named Umberto di Palma — has been rewarded with a medallion bearing the likeness of Marcus Aurelius.

Pompeii No. 59: The Roman Grille

Dear Blogging Friends,

When I said good-bye to blogging exactly 20 months ago, I said that I'd continue to give occasional updates on the progress of the Pompeii Room. And so it's time to do that today!

You may remenber that I wanted to replace unsightly venetian blinds with the sort of bronze grille that would have been familiar to well-healed Romans. Then a most serendipitous event occured! As I was in the process of designing the grilles, an antique room divider showed up in a nearby gift shop.

When the room divider was separated into three screens, they were a near-perfect fit by width (as shown above), and would fit equally well in length with a little adjustment. Each screen would require cutting one design unit from its bottom.

That's when my brother Cliff came on board, excited by the vision, and offering to help with the use of his beautiful shop and carpentry abilities. His contribution to the completion of the Pompeii Room has been huge!

Below are images of the screens getting cut and assembled to a new length.

It certainly looks as though these screens went through a lot of wear and tear! Below, Cliff is filling some cracks and holes with epoxy.

Now it was my turn to get to work. Because I wanted to suggest bronze metal, I took several months caulking, spackling and sanding every surface for a smooth look. (Cliff wondered whether it wouldn't have been easier to build the grille from scratch, but I was very attached to the fact that a found object had appeared at just the right time.)

As you can see in the previous images, the five intersected squares are doubled on the reverse side of the screens. That meant that painting so many nooks and crannies would be tedious and time-consuming. I solved that challenge by finding a bronze-colored spray paint for those areas, and then having Sherwin-Williams match the spray paint for the rest of the job.

We spaced the screens by creating pseudo-hinges from an old broomstick. It's interesting to note that a broomstick has a harder grain than regular store-bought dowels.

Click to enlarge.

Click to enlarge.

Here is the Pommpeii Room as it appears today.

A very special thanks to Cliff,

and as always, thank you for watching.