Empty Frames

Pretty much all of the effort involved in producing these "framed" images has gone into making the frame and the setting. The photograph within each frame has already been taken, evaluated, processed to an acceptably finished state, and – in my own estimation, at least – rated a success: it is already banked creative energy, so to speak. Perhaps as a consequence, some of the frames have started to seem even more interesting than the photographs within them. This may well simply be a short-term response to the fresh investment of energy: it is a given of creativity that your most recent efforts shine most brightly, like a wet pebble picked up on the beach. After a few weeks in your pocket the temporary shine has gone, and a more sober assessment can be made. Some are keepers, most are not.

So, just out of curiosity, I started removing some of the photos from their frames – the photo is just a layer within a multi-layered image, easily toggled in and out of visibility – just to see what the resulting "empty" image would look like. In some cases, I found I was looking at something that was, in its way, a more exciting picture. It was as if the photo had acted as an interior scaffolding, suggesting colours, shapes, and textures, which could then be taken away to reveal the finished construction.

Or perhaps it's more like seeing the reverse side of a frame flipped to take the place of the picture? Anyone who has rummaged through the racks and stacks of old pictures in a junk shop will be familiar with the sensation that the unseen, secret side of most framed pictures can be more interesting to look at than the front. The purposeful, layered assembly of nails, string, tape, backing paper, wood, card, and old labels can make an unintentional collage much more attractive to the eye than some faded watercolour or fly-spotted print imprisoned behind glass [1].

"Empty frames" does feel like an appropriate metaphor for these strange days of absence and immobility, like wandering the deserted rooms of a gallery whose exhibits have been stolen or stored away, leaving just marks on the wall. Which thought prompted another experiment: what about placing a "ghost" image within the frame, like the offset of an old illustrative plate onto its protective leaf of tissue? One thing leads to another...

1. BTW, whatever happened to "thunder flies" (a.k.a. "thrips")? In summers past, swarms of these little blighters would appear, and seemed to find their way inside most picture frames: junk shop pictures usually have some entombed between the mount and the glass. I haven't seen any for years, now, not that I miss them. Silverfish, OTOH, grrr...