Owlie: Framing a Vintage Owl Drawing and Preserving Family Art
My dad is an artist—not professionally, but creatively. By trade he’s a brilliant math teacher, yet both he and my mother sketched and drew for pleasure while I was growing up. Art was my favorite subject in school, and I eventually earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts in New York City. I still remember being mesmerized by my mom’s ability to draw horses and figures, while my dad filled pages with abstract shapes, lines, dots and repeating patterns—little visual worlds all his own.
About a week ago I stood in our hallway of framed photos and prints thinking about my dad’s sketches and realized I needed one of his drawings on the wall. I called him and asked if he could send a copy. To my delight he did something better: he mailed me the original of what he calls his “best drawing ever,” a cheerful seventies-style owl he sketched in 1972. The piece instantly felt like the perfect addition to our home gallery wall.

I love that my dad named the owl “Owlie.” I’m used to naming ceramic animals and other little objects, so the name felt right. On close inspection the drawing reveals his signature approach: the entire owl is composed of repeating shapes and patterns, from layered hexagons to soft, warm colors that feel delightfully seventies. Even though owls are trendy today, this sketch was created decades ago, and that vintage charm makes it feel especially meaningful.
Knowing how much the original meant to him, I didn’t want to frame it right away. Instead I scanned the drawing so I could send the original back to my dad. He had once cut the piece down and matted it on purple paper, and while that gave it a unique look, I wanted to restore the composition to how it likely started. Digitally I placed the sketch on a clean white background, nudged the signature and date into a pleasing new position, and recreated the feel of the original full sheet.

Once I had the restored scan, I printed it and popped the print into a hallway gallery frame. We already had a few cherished wedding photos on that wall, so one of the less sentimental frames was a good fit for Owlie. The new print replaced a less exciting image and immediately enlivened the arrangement.

Total cost: $0. I used what we already had: a scanner, a printer, and an existing frame. The result feels genuinel y like it belongs on that wall. It ties the small gallery together and adds a warm, personal touch—the kind of authentic artwork that can’t be bought new.

I think the drawing completes the hallway. When friends visit they tend to notice it and ask about its origin, which gives me a chance to proudly say my father drew it in 1972. The little moments when family art sparks conversation are exactly why I love displaying personal pieces.

We also get a kick out of household echoes: my daughter has a knitted owl hat she calls her “hoo hat,” and she’s already making baby puns and singing little tunes in her own way. It’s funny to see how family taste and humor cycle through generations—my dad’s seventies drawing, my crochet projects, even my kid’s playful songs all coexist in our home decor story.

Have you ever framed art created by a friend or relative? Did you keep the original or display a reproduction? For me, the original belongs with my dad at his desk where it has always lived, so I returned it to him and kept a restored print to display. Reproductions let us celebrate family-made art without risking an original, and scanning and digital restoration can bring an older piece back to life for a new setting.
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