Reflecting on a cherished print from his youth, an artist recognizes the deeper significance of framing and respecting art that shapes our lives.
Turning 60 next year brings a wave of reflection, a time to consider how the years have flown by. I find myself grappling with the realization that the idea of "growing up" may be a distant concept, perhaps more comforting than troublesome. Each summer, I carve out a break from my workshop and travel commitments, enjoying a slower pace at home. This year, I’ve spent three months without catching flights or waking to the sound of early alarms, choosing instead to focus on what truly matters to me.
As I settle into this period of stillness, it’s startling to confront the abundance of art surrounding me—pieces that have woven themselves into the fabric of my life. Among them are magnificent works like an original by Michael Kenna and two exquisite prints of John Blakemore’s Tulip studies that capture the essence of still life photography. There's also a delightful print by Charlie Cramer, which I purchased directly from him; all remind me of the beauty that art can bring into our daily existence.
My treasured print by Jerzy Jędrysiak, acquired during my travels in Europe decades ago.
A particular print has stirred my thoughts—one that I acquired in either Krakow or Prague back in 1994. Time has blurred the details, creating difficulty in recalling which city claimed my memory as the rightful owner of this art piece, although I'm confident it’s one of the two. With a cheap frame, it has hung on my walls for nearly 32 years, accompanying me through countless life experiences. The emotional connection I have with this print never wavered, and I realized how deeply it resonates with me, just as vividly as the first day I laid eyes on it in a shop near either city’s center.
Amidst my introspection, it dawned on me that this print deserved better than the flimsy frame I’d chosen all those years ago. It finally struck me to get it reframed in a way that honors both the piece and its journey with me. I had previously framed a beloved watercolour by John Bellany—my uncle—which portrays the Scottish mountain Suilven. This piece has immense sentimental value in my family. Therefore, it seems natural to grant the same respect to my Krakow print.
A cherished painting by my uncle, John Bellany, framed beautifully to reflect its significance.
Taking my print to the framers marked a pivotal moment for me, as if I was righting a long-standing oversight. The act of getting it professionally framed feels like an acknowledgment of the life's worth I've shared with it. Emotions collided within me—I mourn my younger self and the vibrancy of youth while simultaneously celebrating the rich history this print symbolizes. It serves as a reminder of who I was at 26—a traveler, an artist, and someone in tune with beauty.
Pondering the significance of this artwork has propelled me into deeper contemplation about the art we live with daily. Art often straddles a fine line; either we see it as mere decoration or we embrace it as significant to our life narrative. The gray area doesn't last long and forces us to confront the essence of what we possess. Respecting these pieces requires active engagement, not apathy.
This realization was transformative. My relationship with that print has been one of affection, yet it never showed in how I framed it. A high-quality frame showcases the work’s full potential, allowing it to be appreciated in all its glory rather than languishing in mediocrity. By having my print framed, I wasn't just altering its exterior—I was making a definitive statement about its value and the impact it has had on my life.
Every time we choose to frame a piece of art, we craft a connection, a tangible marker that celebrates what that work means to us. Understandably, art can often get pushed aside, but this experience encouraged me to elevate not only the Krakow print but also my appreciation for all the pieces that have accompanied me through life.
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Postscript: The image is by the Polish artist Jerzy Jędrysiak, a name I uncovered during a search. I confirm that my cherished print was indeed purchased in Krakow, not Prague.
