How to Make a Picture Frame: The Art of Creating Something That Matters More Than What Goes Inside It

I've been making picture frames for about fifteen years now, and I still remember the first one I cobbled together in my garage. It was crooked, the corners didn't quite meet, and the wood stain looked like I'd applied it with a mop. But you know what? My grandmother hung it in her living room anyway, filled with a photo of us at the beach. That frame outlasted three moves and countless redecorations until she passed. Sometimes I think the imperfections made it more valuable.

Picture frames are weird when you really think about them. We spend all this time crafting something whose entire purpose is to disappear – to draw your eye to what's inside rather than the frame itself. Yet somehow, the right frame can transform a mediocre photo into something that stops people in their tracks. I've seen it happen countless times in my workshop.

The Philosophy of Wood Selection (Or Why Pine Isn't Always Wrong)

Everyone wants to start with exotic hardwoods. I get it. There's something seductive about working with purpleheart or zebrawood. But here's the thing – your first twenty frames should probably be pine or poplar. Not because you're not worthy of the good stuff, but because you need to earn the right to ruin expensive wood.

Pine gets a bad rap in woodworking circles. Sure, it's soft, it dents if you look at it wrong, and it can warp like a politician's promises. But it's also forgiving, takes stain beautifully if you know what you're doing, and costs about as much as a fancy coffee. Plus, there's something honest about pine. It doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is.

When you're ready to move up, consider red oak or maple. Oak has that classic grain pattern that screams "serious woodworker," while maple is smooth as butter and takes paint like it was born for it. I once made a maple frame for a client who wanted it painted bright purple. I died a little inside, but the check cleared, so who am I to judge?

Tools: The Eternal Struggle Between Need and Want

You could theoretically make a picture frame with a handsaw, a hammer, and sheer determination. I know because I've done it, usually when I'm trying to prove a point to someone who claims you need $10,000 worth of tools to do woodworking. But just because you can doesn't mean you should.

At minimum, you'll want a miter saw or a miter box with a hand saw. The miter saw is where most people mess up their frames – those 45-degree angles at the corners need to be precise, or your frame will look like abstract art. I spent my first year making frames with gaps at the corners big enough to lose spare change in.

A router isn't strictly necessary, but it opens up a world of decorative possibilities. The first time I ran a piece of oak through a router with an ogee bit, I felt like I'd discovered fire. Suddenly, my frames went from "homemade" to "handcrafted." There's a difference, trust me.

You'll also need clamps. More clamps than you think. Then double that number. I've never met a woodworker who said, "You know what? I have too many clamps." They're like kitchen gadgets – you'll find uses for them you never imagined.

The Measuring Game: Where Dreams Go to Die

Measuring for a picture frame should be simple math, right? Wrong. This is where more frames fail than anywhere else. You've got the artwork size, the mat size (if you're using one), the rabbet depth, and the fact that wood has opinions about humidity.

Start with your artwork. Let's say it's an 8x10 photo. Easy, right? Now add an eighth of an inch on each side for wiggle room. No, wait – if you're using a mat, measure the mat instead. But don't forget the mat needs its own wiggle room. And the glass needs to fit in there too, plus the backing board...

I once spent three hours making a gorgeous walnut frame, only to discover I'd measured the opening for the exact size of the photo. No room for glass, no room for backing, no room for anything except my crushing disappointment. That frame now holds a mirror in my bathroom, a daily reminder to measure twice, cut once, then measure again because you probably screwed up the first two times.

Cutting: The Moment of Truth

This is where the rubber meets the road, or more accurately, where the saw meets the wood. Those 45-degree angles I mentioned? They're the heart and soul of frame-making. Get them wrong, and you've got expensive firewood.

Set your miter saw to exactly 45 degrees. Not 44.5, not 45.5. Use a digital angle gauge if you have trust issues like I do. Cut your first piece, then use it as a template for the opposite side. This ensures that even if your angle is slightly off, at least your frame will be rectangular instead of some trapezoid nightmare.

Here's a trick I learned from an old-timer at a woodworking show: cut all four pieces slightly long, then sneak up on the final measurement. It's easier to trim a hair's width off than to add wood back on. Physics is cruel that way.

The Rabbet: Not the Cute Bunny Kind

The rabbet (pronounced "rabbit" because woodworking terminology enjoys confusing people) is that recessed groove where your glass, artwork, and backing sit. You can cut this with a router or a table saw, or buy pre-rabbeted molding if you value your sanity.

Cutting a rabbet on a table saw requires either a dado blade or multiple passes with a regular blade. I prefer the router method because it gives me more control and fewer opportunities to donate fingers to the woodworking gods. The depth should be enough to accommodate glass, mat, artwork, and backing board, plus a little extra. Too shallow and nothing fits; too deep and everything rattles around like maracas.

Assembly: Where Patience Goes to Die

You've cut your pieces, created your rabbets, and maybe even added some decorative routing. Now comes assembly, also known as "discovering you should have bought more clamps."

Glue is your friend here, but like that friend who always overstays their welcome, too much glue is worse than not enough. A thin, even layer on each mitered surface is plenty. I use yellow wood glue because it gives you about 10 minutes of working time before panic sets in.

Corner clamps are worth their weight in gold. They hold your corners at exactly 90 degrees while the glue dries, assuming you cut your miters correctly. If you didn't, they'll hold your corners at exactly wrong degrees with equal enthusiasm.

Some people swear by brad nails or V-nails for extra strength. I'm neutral on this – a properly glued miter joint is plenty strong for most frames. But if you're framing a bowling ball or your grandmother's cast iron skillet collection, go ahead and add some mechanical fasteners.

The Finishing Touch: Where Chemistry Meets Art

Finishing is where your frame develops its personality. Stain, paint, oil, wax – the options are endless and endlessly confusing. I've tried them all, with varying degrees of success and disaster.

Staining pine is like trying to apply makeup to a teenager – it's going to be blotchy unless you use a pre-stain conditioner. This magical potion evens out the wood's absorption rate, preventing those dark splotches that scream "amateur hour."

For hardwoods, I'm partial to oil finishes. They bring out the grain without adding a plastic-looking layer on top. Danish oil is my go-to, though I've been experimenting with tung oil lately. Fair warning: tung oil takes approximately forever to dry. I once gave a client a frame that was still slightly tacky. They were very understanding, but I learned to build in a two-week buffer for tung oil projects.

Paint opens up a whole other world. Milk paint gives you that shabby chic look that's been trendy since approximately 1987. Chalk paint is similar but with better marketing. Regular latex paint works fine too, though purists will clutch their pearls at the suggestion.

Glass: The Clear and Present Danger

Regular glass works for most frames, but it's heavy and breaks into sharp, vindictive pieces when dropped. Ask me how I know. Museum glass is the Rolls Royce option – UV protection, anti-reflective coating, and a price tag that makes you question your life choices.

Acrylic is lighter and shatter-resistant, perfect for kids' rooms or anywhere gravity is a concern. It scratches easier than glass, but it won't send you to the emergency room if it breaks. I use it for all my shipped frames after an incident involving UPS, inadequate packaging, and a very unhappy customer.

Cutting glass is an art form I've never mastered. I buy mine pre-cut from a local glass shop run by a guy named Carl who's been cutting glass since the Kennedy administration. The $5 per piece is worth not having to explain to my wife why there's blood on the garage floor again.

The Final Assembly: Bringing It All Together

You've got your finished frame, your glass, your artwork, and probably a newfound respect for professional framers. Time to put it all together.

Clean the glass obsessively. Then clean it again. Every speck of dust you miss will reproduce overnight and invite its extended family to live between the glass and your artwork. I use microfiber cloths and compressed air, though I've been tempted to set up a clean room in my garage.

Layer everything carefully: glass first, then mat (if using), then artwork, then backing board. Some people add a dust cover on the back – brown kraft paper attached with double-sided tape. It's not necessary, but it does give a professional finish and keeps spiders from setting up shop in your frame.

Hardware: The Unsung Heroes

Picture hanging hardware is where cheapskates reveal themselves. Those tiny sawtooth hangers that come with store-bought frames are garbage. They'll hold for approximately three days before your frame comes crashing down at 3 AM, scaring you into thinking the apocalypse has arrived.

D-rings and picture wire are the way to go for anything heavier than a postcard. Install the D-rings about a third of the way down from the top of the frame. The wire should have a little slack but not so much that it shows above the frame when hung.

For heavy frames, I use two D-rings on each side and aircraft cable instead of regular picture wire. It's overkill, but I sleep better knowing my frames aren't plotting to brain someone.

The Mistakes That Make Us Better

I could write a book about all the ways I've screwed up frames over the years. There was the time I forgot to account for the kerf (the width of the saw blade) and ended up with a frame that was a quarter-inch too small. Or when I discovered that red oak and white oak take stain completely differently, resulting in a two-toned frame that looked like it was having an identity crisis.

My favorite disaster was the frame I made for my sister's wedding photo. I spent weeks on it – hand-carved details, multiple coats of hand-rubbed finish, the works. It was gorgeous. It was also two inches too small because I'd measured the frame opening instead of the photo. She still brings it up at family dinners.

Why This Matters More Than You Think

Making picture frames isn't going to make you rich. It probably won't even make you popular at parties. But there's something deeply satisfying about creating the thing that holds the things that matter.

Every frame I make carries a piece of someone's story. Wedding photos, kids' artwork, that concert ticket from the night they met their spouse. I'm not just cutting wood and spreading glue; I'm creating the keeper of memories.

Plus, once you start making frames, you'll never look at store-bought frames the same way. You'll notice the sloppy miters, the cheap materials, the corners held together with nothing but hope and hot glue. You'll become a frame snob, and you'll be insufferable about it. Your friends will stop inviting you over because you spend the whole time critiquing their wall decor.

But you'll also have the skill to create something beautiful and functional with your own hands. In a world of disposable everything, that's worth something. Even if your first frame looks like it was assembled by caffeinated squirrels.

So grab some wood, make some sawdust, and probably a few mistakes. The worst thing that happens is you end up with firewood and a good story. The best thing? You might just discover you're capable of creating something worth keeping.

And if all else fails, remember: even crooked frames can hold perfect memories.

Authoritative Sources:

Flexner, Bob. Understanding Wood Finishing: How to Select and Apply the Right Finish. Fox Chapel Publishing, 2010.

Hoadley, R. Bruce. Understanding Wood: A Craftsman's Guide to Wood Technology. The Taunton Press, 2000.

Joyce, Ernest. The Encyclopedia of Furniture Making. Sterling Publishing, 2006.

Korn, Peter. Why We Make Things and Why It Matters: The Education of a Craftsman. David R. Godine, 2013.

Wearing, Robert. The Essential Woodworker: Skills, Tools and Methods. Lost Art Press, 2010.