An Old Goat’s Manifesto by George Merrill

Meet George Merrill, if you haven’t already. He has a doppelganger in town, so the man I’m referring to has a handcrafted custom frame shop called Old Goat Creative, on the opposite end of the building Sequel is in, at 434 Prune Alley.

I recently read the manifesto George wrote, which is beautifully conceived and written. I asked if I could put in on this blog, and he is allowing me to do so…

A Frame of Spirit
An Old Goat’s Manifesto: George Merrill

I. The Age of the Machine

“So long as we do not deal with it honestly, we are but making haste to be rich, and every day shows us more clearly that the end of such haste is ruin.”
—William Morris

In the 19th century, William Morris looked upon the rising tide of factory-made goods and saw a world trading its soul for speed. Tables, chairs, curtains—once the proud work of skilled hands—were now churned out in factories, lifeless and uniform. The Industrial Revolution had promised abundance, but delivered alienation: from labor, from materials, and from beauty.

Morris responded with a quiet revolution: a return to the hand, the material, the spirit of the maker.

***

II. The Factory Lives On

We live now in a new version of that same world.

The machines are even faster. The products are even cheaper. And the pace, oh god, the pace is more relentless.

We live surrounded by plastics, veneers, and mass-market sameness. Art becomes “wall decor.” Frames become “just something to hang it in.” AI writes poems, CNC routers carve out “craft,” and beauty is reduced to a style code for algorithms.

This isn’t progress. It’s estrangement—from materials, from meaning, from soul.

***

III. My Response: Thoughtfulness, Soul, and the Human Hand

I believe the human hand still matters.

When I build a picture frame, I don’t just measure and cut—I listen. The wood has a voice. The piece to be framed has a memory, a presence. My job is not just to enclose it, but to honor it.

I choose natural woods because they breathe. I finish with oils and waxes because they age with grace. I use rabbit skin glue and clay bole because they’ve stood the test of centuries, and because they carry something that modern synthetics don’t: history, imperfection, honesty.

This is not nostalgia. This is resistance.

A handmade frame holds more than a picture. It holds espírito—the breath of the maker. The trace of the human who shaped it. That cannot be faked, mass-produced, or downloaded.

***

IV. The Island, The Cost, The Quandary

I live and work on an island, where everything costs more: space, materials, time. And still, people expect less—less expense, less delay, less depth. The world has taught us to expect fast and cheap.

But I didn’t come here to take part in that economy. I came here to build things that last, that matter. That means stepping outside the quickening loop.

I know this path isn’t for everyone. But for those who want something real—for those who believe that craft can carry soul—I offer this way of working, and this place of making.

***

V. A Call to Return

“The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.”
—William Morris

We must return to the details. To the touch of the hand. To the smell of linseed oil and wood shavings on the floor. To things that take forethought and patience.

This is my pledge:
To build thoughtfully.
To work honestly.
To respect the materials.
To honor the art.
To make each frame not just functional—but sacred.
This is not just about picture frames. It’s about remembrance. Reverence. Return.

***

Postscript

The market today expects fast and cheap.
And the businessman’s instinct whispers: adapt or die.
People will call me insane for choosing otherwise.
But time and quietness must be invested in forethought.
That’s where meaning begins—before the first cut is made.
Before the wood is selected, before the finish is chosen.
In the end, I’d rather have built a few things that meant something than a mountain of things that meant nothing.
That’s the hill I’ve chosen to stand on.
And from here, I can feel the soul in the wood.