ON THE WALL behind Yasuo Minagawa's desk hangs a signed black-and-white photograph of the Olympic gold-medalist Greg Louganis, arms outstretched in mid-dive. Mr. Minagawa framed the photo himself, using a process he likened to diving, a sport he has practiced weekly for more than 20 years. In both activities, the framer said, accuracy and accountability are everything. "Mistake is enemy number one," he said.
On the far western edge of Manhattan, the framer and his small staff are hand-making minimalist wooden frames with the precision of an Olympic diver. He has framed artwork for some of the biggest names in the art world—including Peter Beard, Urs Fischer and Mariana Cook—with a recent show for Sherrie Levine at the Whitney and one for Alice Neel at the David Zwirner Gallery.
Born in Japan, Mr. Minagawa, 67, studied law before coming to the U.S. in 1973 as an aspiring artist. He began building frames for his artist friends and then quickly expanded. He taught himself his craft by meticulously dismantling and then rebuilding wooden frames piece by piece. Since launching Minagawa Art Lines in the early '80s, he has attracted a loyal following of artists, curators and gallery owners—from the Gagosian Gallery to the Paula Cooper Gallery—enamored with frames so carefully constructed that they become part of the artwork itself. On painted frames, the color completely conceals the wood grain, and the seams between the corners are almost invisible. "I have some artists who will only use Yasuo," said gallery owner Paula Cooper of the Paula Cooper Gallery. "The craftsmanship is absolutely impeccable."
To achieve the soft gray color, ideal for black and white photographs, real graphite pigment is added to a liquid stain base. The frames range from $200 to $20,000 apiece and take about five weeks to cycle through the labor-intensive process. During that time they move through the rooms at Mr. Minagawa's studio—framing, finishing and fitting—until they emerge ready to be hung. On a hot morning in July, the wiry Mr. Minagawa moved easily among the workbenches and machines in the large framing room. Poised over a manual miter trimmer, used to cut precise angles, he positioned the blade against the end of a frame side and pressed down, sending curled shavings to the floor. Mr. Minagawa repeated the process until he achieved a perfect 45-degree angle: one half of a frame corner. "That's what I want," he said. "Nothing more, nothing less." Once he has the sides of his frame cut down and angled, he attaches them with wood glue and hidden metal screws, using old-fashioned Swiss clamps to hold the corners together as they dry. Though many framers have long since switched to power tools, Mr. Minagawa has maintained the use of manual tools, which he insists make a smoother surface. The frames, which he moves in and out of the building through a freight elevator at the back of the studio, can weigh as much as 500 pounds by the time they are finished. About 60% of them are built from standard designs that he has developed over the years. The others require custom designs. For one piece, made from coffee grounds, Mr. Minagawa designed a boxlike frame, with a removable glass lid lined in wood, so viewers could also open it and smell the work. "I came up with the idea it should be sealed in when no one's looking at it," he said. Mr. Minagawa makes all his frames from domestic wood. He favors hard woods, like maple or white oak, because they last longer, but he sometimes uses softer woods like ash or mahogany. He once used more exotic woods but stopped when he learned of the destruction to the rain forest. The shift in wood triggered a shift in focus for Mr. Minagawa. His wood choices limited, he turned to finishing to distinguish his frames. He has since become known for his homemade stains and paints, which he customizes by adding pigments to stain bases. The recipes are "industry secrets," he said with a smile. “For one piece, made from coffee grounds, he created a frame that allowed viewers to smell the work.” Passing through a narrow corridor hung with frames, Mr. Minagawa ducked into the finishing room. Seated on a high stool, a staffer was dipping a block of wood wrapped in sandpaper in water, sanding the bumps and irregularities out of a frame's paint layer. This process, called "wet-sanding," is repeated for each layer applied to the frame—sometimes, as in the case of white lacquer, that means as many as 13 layers. Between each coat, the framer must wait for the paint to dry before he can sand it down. Mr. Minagawa often works closely with artists to create a custom color. Artist Dan Colen, for instance, said he sometimes consults Mr. Minagawa and Yuko Kosaka, Mr. Minagawa's office manager of 16 years, before finishing his piece so that the frame and the art work together. "It's really just an extension of the art," said Mr. Colen. Threading his way back through the corridor, Mr. Minagawa opened the door to the fitting room. One of his staff used a blade to make precise cuts on a backing board. Before a photograph or a drawing is framed, Mr. Minagawa determines how it will be spaced and attached. Spacing, where the slightest bit of an inch can make a difference, is equally important, if more subjective, said the framer. "I guess I have somehow good eyes for it," said Mr. Minagawa. "If I see the artwork, I usually know what to do with it."
A version of this article appeared August 11, 2012, on page C11 in the U.S. edition of The Wall Street Journal, with the headline: Sought by Art Stars, Famed for Frames.
