None of my early works were framed. I started painting around and along the edges of large boards and canvasses because I wanted them to look like objects as well as glossy surfaces. When I did small works on paper for friends, I laid glass directly on top of them (an archivist's nightmare!) and secured the edges with metal clasps. I hated any extraneous lines. I hated too-well-defined edges.
I think I was over-influenced by my short time at art school. My lecturers were constantly looking to destroy anything 'old' or 'traditional'. There was often no reason for this except to be reactionary, something I am still prone to be. It's an affliction I'm trying to overcome.
Since my last exhibition of Voodoo-inspired works on paper, for which the works were framed in wide timber mouldings that looked like the mildewed, worm-eaten planks of coffins that had been buried then dug up, I have grown to love frames. They act sometimes as a psychic window between the world within the image, and the world outside it, enticing the viewer to focus on the image and discouraging them from being distracted by of whatever else might be in sight.