The Only 3 Printing Techniques Every Art Collector Should Know

In this article, I want to introduce a framework for understanding art production that might change how you look at art as a whole. It developed gradually in my mind as I went through various printmaking courses and noticed how certain methods shared similar principles and values, while others though producing similar visual results relied on completely different processes.

In practice, this meant that practitioners of different techniques often saw and valued different qualities in the final image. For example, a black-and-white inkjet print, a photogravure, and a screen print might look similar on paper, yet each is appreciated for distinct reasons: the inkjet for its tonal range, the photogravure for its depth of blacks and even tonality, and the screen print for its sharpness and controlled gradations.

Without a clear understanding of where a process sits conceptually and technically, there’s a real risk of chasing the wrong goal or using the wrong method to achieve a desired result. My aim here is to cut through the noise of technical branding—inkjet, giclée, offset, c-print—and focus instead on the underlying logic of how an image actually appears on paper: the principle behind the process that brings it into being, whatever name it carries.

You see, every image on paper—whether digital, mechanical, or ancient—comes from one of three fundamental principles governing the relationship between matter and surface: something is put on, something happens within, or something is pressed against. Paint is put on, a photograph develops from within, and a print plate is pressed against the paper. Every other process is simply a variation or combination of these three.

Once you understand the production principle behind each process, you’ll begin to form expectations. Those expectations are the foundation of genuine appreciation. Only when you know what to expect and an artwork exceeds it does real passion begin to grow. That’s when the desire to experience, own, and collect art becomes serious. You start to develop an instinct for how materials behave, what kind of skill each method demands, and what level of result can reasonably be achieved. Great art will meet or even surpass your expectations, pushing them to new levels. In that process, you grow not only as an art collector but also as a human being.

Eventually, you’ll start to see that each process shapes not only the image’s material qualities but also its emotional and symbolic weight. You’ll gain the ability to speak about authorship: the artist’s choice of medium, execution, and intended effect as well as the tactile and aesthetic character of the image itself. By the end of this article, I hope you’ll see art differently: not as a set of mysterious techniques, but as expressions of three fundamental processes.

Overview

Every image that has ever appeared on paper comes from one of three basic relationships between matter and surface.

First, there’s direct application — paint, ink, or pigment laid straight onto the paper. Brushes, pens, even the inkjet printer all do the same thing: they deposit material directly onto the surface.

Second, there’s chemical reaction — the alchemy of traditional photography, where the image forms within the fibers of the paper itself. Silver gelatin, platinum printing, cyanotype — all depend on light and chemistry rather than applied pigment.

And third, imprint and transfer — methods like intaglio, lithography, screen printing, or photopolymer. These use an intermediary surface that presses, stamps, or transfers an image onto paper through contact and pressure.

The application, reaction, transfer covers almost everything that can happen between paper and image. The few outliers, such as laser printing or embossing that modify the surface through heat, pressure, or burning, echoing the same physical logic as imprint and transfer.

Ultimately, this framework shows that all image-making comes down to the same three principles — the physical act that joins material and idea. A cave painting, a darkroom print, a laser print — all follow the same process: idea → contact → art. Once you grasp this, you’ll begin to read artworks through the logic of their chosen medium.

Let’s start from the top.

I.Direct Application

The direct application process is when something is applied directly onto the surface: paint on paper, walls, caves, or canvas. Most of the world’s art falls into this category: paintings, drawings, sketches. The application materials are the familiar tools found in any art store: oil, acrylic, watercolor, pencils, pastels, inks, and more. The surfaces range from various types of paper and canvas to wood and film.The defining feature of this method is its freedom: freehand application, open format, and a broad selection of materials and colors. The appeal of this format lies in its expressionism — the creation of one-off, unique works of art.

In photography, this principle is used in digital printing. Inkjet printers are essentially advanced painting machines, applying inks directly onto paper. The “hand” of the artist is replaced by mechanical precision, but conceptually it’s still direct application of color to surface, and the richness of color and variety of media remain. Laser printing mostly fits here too, though it technically involves an electrostatic transfer before fusing toner to the surface and hence it can be in both categories: direct application and transfer, hence it is a hybrid process.

Inkjet printing.

Inkjet print is often called “giclée” in the fine-art world. The word comes from the French gicler, meaning “to spray” - a nod to how inkjet printers work. In practice, giclée usually means a print made with archival pigment inks on archival paper. The term is meant to distinguish high quality archival prints from cheaper, dye-based inkjet prints. In reality, giclée is just another useless word that the art world invented that the rest of the world struggle to understand. Now when you know what it is, let’s just use inkjet prints in the rest of this article.

Inkjet prints are made by technologically advanced printheads that spray microscopic droplets of ink onto specially coated papers designed to absorb and hold those inks. The method began taking shape in the 1980s with work by Canon and HP, but it wasn’t until the early 2000s that Epson introduced printers capable of true photo-lab quality.

The main advantage of inkjets is consistency and scalability. Prints can be reprinted exactly, produced in very large sizes, and when made with pigment inks on high-quality papers, they can last for centuries. Inkjet printing is also relatively affordable and compact process compared to other printmaking methods which makes it appealing for many artists.

Beyond its technical precision, inkjet’s greatest strength lies in its range. Inkjet supports more paper types than any other process, and finding the right combination of ink, paper, and settings for an image is both a craft and a science. The quality of a print depends on matching the ink type—pigment or dye to the right paper type. As in painting, using oil on watercolor paper or watercolor on canvas will result in a messy painting.

But beyond the technical side, there’s also an emotional and tactile dimension. Most paper and ink combinations reproduce the image; only a few make it art. Hence, mastery in printing isn’t only about hitting perfect colors or tones; it’s about using the process to amplify the image’s visual power. Without that, a print is no better than a poster.

Once we place inkjet printing in this category, we’re inevitably reminded of its connection to traditional art-making. While inkjet printing can produce identical editions, the medium’s full potential lies not in mechanical perfection but in how the artist uses it to create nuance, individuality, and character. The goal isn’t to produce hundreds of flawless reproductions, but to make each print expressive and slightly unique. Many great printmakers deliberately introduce variation through paper choice, color grading, overpainting, embossing, or mixed-media intervention to preserve individuality and artistic presence.

II.Chemical reaction

A chemical reaction process refers to a method of image creation in which the photograph is formed by a chemical transformation that happens within the paper’s fibers rather than on its surface. Light-sensitive compounds embedded in the emulsion that covers a paper react to exposure and development, turning invisible particles into visible silver or pigment. Unlike inkjet printing, where ink sits on top of the paper, these chemically produced images become part of the material itself—literally built into the structure of the print. All processes in this category follow a similar sequence: the paper is coated, exposed to light, the chemistry is activated, the reaction is stopped, the image is fixed so it becomes stable, and finally washed and sometimes toned. The essential elements are always the same—chemical, light, and water—working together to turn a blank sheet into a lasting image. This means that only papers capable of withstanding repeated chemical baths and prolonged exposure to water can be used. They must be strong, well-sized, and stable enough to hold the emulsion without warping, tearing, or breaking down during processing.

The defining principle of this category is that images are developed by nature through chemistry, light, and water and yet the human hand is always present in the process: coating, developing, toning. Mastery lies in the artist’s ability to control these natural variations. In darkroom printing, skill means managing variables: time, temperature, dilution, and agitation to achieve reliable results from inherently unstable conditions. That’s genuine mastery.

With inkjet printing, the challenge is reversed. The process is built for consistency, so artistic expression comes from deliberately reintroducing variation—adjusting color, material, and presentation to recover individuality within a mechanical system.

To summarize: in inkjet printing, we’re often impressed by added variation; in chemical processes, we’re impressed by control—the ability to produce consistent results time after time. Despite their technical differences, both forms of mastery reflect a deliberate choice to work through complexity rather than settle for convenience—each valued for taking the harder, more intentional path.

Silver Gelatin

Silver gelatin is the classic darkroom print: light hits silver-halide paper, the latent image is developed, fixed, and washed. Its legacy is the “photographic look” many people picture in their head—deep blacks, luminous midtones, and a physical sheet that records the hand of the printer through dodging, burning, and toning. A silver gelatin print has a density and presence that is hard to describe until you see one in person. The image doesn’t sit on the surface of the paper, as it does in inkjet - it lives inside it. Light passes through the emulsion and reflects back, giving the print a subtle, almost three-dimensional depth. Blacks are more complex, highlights more luminous. When handled well, a fiber-based silver print has a tactile richness that digital paper simply doesn’t reproduce.

There are two main ways to producing a silver-based photographic print. The first is the traditional darkroom process: the film negative is placed in an enlarger, projected onto resin-coated (RC) or fiber-based (FB) silver gelatin paper, then developed, stopped, and fixed. After that comes an extensive wash to remove residual chemicals, followed by careful drying and flattening. Hand printing in this context involves a high degree of manual control like burning and dodging to balance light, split-grade printing to fine-tune contrast, and a meticulous attention to chemical timing and paper handling. While there are many development processes and papers fiber-based baryta papers defined the look of 20th-century photography for their tonal depth and longevity, demand particularly careful washing and drying to avoid stains and curling.

The second way is digital-to-silver printing, where a digital file is exposed onto silver paper using laser systems such as Lambda or LightJet. The exposed paper is then processed in RA-4 chemistry for color or in black-and-white chemistry for panchromatic silver papers. Color prints made this way are known as C-prints (chromogenic prints). They use the same chemical development process as traditional color darkroom prints, only with the initial digital exposure instead of an optical one.

Unlike traditional darkroom materials, Lambda and LightJet papers are specific to this process. They come in large resin-coated (RC) rolls, optimized for laser exposure and machine development. After exposure and development, the print is washed and dried much like any silver print. These papers deliver exceptional color consistency and sharpness, and the system allows for much larger prints than would ever be practical in a darkroom. However, they lack the tactile depth and slight surface irregularities of hand-processed fiber papers.

Both methods produce true silver photographs, but the first is rooted in manual craft, while the second relies on digital precision and scale. Collectors and galleries often prize hand-printed fiber photographs for their individuality and physical character, while Lambda or LightJet C-prints are valued for their clarity, color accuracy, and size. Each reflects a different balance between craft and technology.

Silver gelatin once defined photography itself. Today, it represents a deliberate artistic choice. Its appeal lies in the physical and aesthetic qualities of the process. A well-processed fiber print can last for a century or more - we still have 150-years old prints from the very beginning of photography. Choosing to print an image this way today signals that the photographer wants it to survive physically and culturally long after a digital file would disappear.

Perhaps the strongest reason to use silver gelatin today is authorship. It offers the photographer the chance to create a true, limited-edition print—an object touched and shaped by hand. Working in the darkroom forces a slower rhythm, a physical engagement with every step. The process is unpredictable, sometimes frustrating, but always human. Each print carries the traces of its making: tiny variations, decisions, hesitations. It is not mass production; it is a dialogue between light, chemistry, and touch. Silver gelatin printing endures because it transforms the photograph from an image into an artwork with photographic legacy.

Alternative Printing Processes

Besides Silver Gelatin printing there are “alt,” processes form a vast family of hand-crafted printing methods that trace photography back to its earliest material roots. The term covers a range of techniques—cyanotype, Van Dyke brown, platinum/palladium, carbon transfer, salt, gum bichromate, and many others. Most of them were invented between the 1840s and early 1900s and were the standard of their time until silver gelatin and later color processes took over as the default photographic process. The processes may use different chemicals, but the principle is the same: the image is formed within the paper itself through a chemical reaction, not simply deposited on its surface as inkjet prints.

The appeal of these alt.processes lies in materiality and authorship. Everything is made by hand: the paper is coated with chemistry, exposed under UV light, developed, and washed by the artist. Each stage—choice of paper, mixture of chemicals, humidity, exposure curve, and drying method—leaves visible traces in the final print. Nothing about it is automatic. These methods are slow, deliberate, and deeply tactile, giving the artist control over the image in ways no mechanical printer can. Many alt-process prints are also incredibly stable, rivaling or surpassing silver gelatin in longevity.

Cyanotype is perhaps the most familiar of these processes, known for its deep Prussian blue tone. The paper is hand-coated with ferric salts, exposed under UV light using a contact negative, and then washed in water to reveal the image. The result has a soft roll-off in the highlights and a graphic, high-contrast quality that feels timeless. Variations are endless: multiple coatings increase density, and different toning methods can shift the color from blue to brown, yellow, red, or violet, transforming the print into something entirely new. The creative appeal of cyanotype lies in its simplicity and low cost, which invite experimentation. Cyanotype can be printed on almost any surface—textile, ceramic, wood, stone, or tile—making it one of the most versatile and playful photographic processes ever invented. Inkjet or silver gelatin prints, for example, can be overcoated with cyanotype solution to create double exposures.

Left: Cyanotype washed and hung to dry; as it dries, the blue deepens.

Right: Cyanotype toned to varying degrees with coffee. The framed piece hides the brush strokes with a mat, but it could be displayed without the mat to reveal the hand‑made texture and brushwork.

Van Dyke brown, and its close relative the kallitype, use silver salts rather than iron in cyanotype. The paper is coated, exposed, developed, and fixed, producing warm brown images with delicate highlights and an antique sensibility. The tone depends strongly on the paper base, and toning with gold or selenium can deepen color and extend permanence. Cyanotype and Van Dyke Brown sit next to each other historically and technically, but they deliver very different visual and material results, and the process itself differs in complexity - Van Dyke Brown is more fragile, slower, and demanding process. It uses silver-based chemistry which immediately raises the level of sensitivity, cost, and care required - more steps, more precision, less forgiving process. Visually, Van Dyke Brown offers something closer to what we associate with early silver photography—sepia tones, delicate highlights, and a smoother tonal range than cyanotype’s punchy blues. Its surface looks softer, more classical. If cyanotype feels graphic and immediate, Van Dyke feels nostalgic and contemplative, leaning toward the emotional end of the spectrum and produces richer tonal depth. The advantage of this method is aesthetics - the print looks aged the moment it’s made, not through imitation but through material truth. It feels like an artifact, not a reproduction. For artists working with ideas of memory, decay, time, or tactility, that surface quality is inseparable from the meaning of the image. In a world of polished surfaces and instant results, it reminds both maker and viewer that photography once required touch, time, and a certain humility before chemistry and light.

Platinum and palladium printing - often referred to simply as Pt/Pd, occupies the top tier of historical photographic processes. It is the most refined and prestigious printing method ever developed, holding a special place among serious collectors and master printmakers. The paper is hand-coated with ferric oxalate mixed with platinum and/or palladium salts, then exposed to UV light and developed in a chemical bath before being cleared and washed. Every variable matters: humidity, paper sizing, coating consistency, and even room temperature can influence the final tones. The results are extraordinary - a matte surface with an exceptionally long tonal range, deep yet delicate shadows, and luminous highlights. Pt/Pd prints are among the most permanent photographic materials ever made, with an estimated lifespan of a 1000 years or more; the paper will disintegrate long before the image itself fades. With digital negatives, the process can be scaled to almost any size, but each print remains extremely expensive to produce because it uses real platinum and palladium metals. Photographers who work in Pt/Pd printing have usually mastered other alternative processes before arriving here. The cost of error is high, and the learning curve is steep. Yet the results justify the risk exclusive limited-edition prints often sell for thousands of dollars, even at small sizes. Pt/Pd printing stands as both a test of skill and a declaration of commitment: the point where craftsmanship, chemistry, and permanence meet.

The carbon transfer process is perhaps the most complex and labor-intensive of all alternative printing methods. It begins with the creation of a pigmented gelatin “tissue,” which is exposed under UV light and then transferred onto fine art paper in a delicate, temperature-controlled development. The resulting image is not just visible but physically present—the shadows rise in subtle relief on the surface. The texture is utterly matte, the blacks are deep and velvety, and the permanence is unmatched. It doesn’t look printed; it looks formed.

Multi-layer carbon transfers can even produce color images, each layer made from a different pigment, building a depth and richness that no other process can match. Artists continue to use carbon transfer today for its expressive potential. It offers unrivaled control over tone, relief, and color, and because every print is handmade, no two are ever identical.

Permanence is another defining quality. The image consists of pure pigment suspended in hardened gelatin—not dye, not silver. Properly made, it is virtually immune to fading. Museums regard carbon transfer as one of the most stable photographic processes ever developed; a print made today will almost certainly outlive every other type of photograph.

Yet, carbon transfer is expensive and rare, not because it relies on rare materials like platinum or palladium, but because it consumes time, focus, and skill. A single finished print may take hours or even days to complete, and several attempts might fail before one succeeds. It is a process that demands patience and commitment, and rewards them with something no other photographic process can.

Salt printing and its later cousin, the argyrotype, belong to the earliest generation of photographic processes—images literally made of light and salt. Paper is first soaked in a salt solution, then coated with silver nitrate to form light-sensitive silver chloride. The exposed paper yields a warm brown to reddish tone with soft, romantic highlights that seem to glow from within the fibers. Salt prints are delicate and atmospheric, with a sense of air and distance that no modern print quite captures. Argyrotype, developed as a contemporary update, simplifies the chemistry while keeping the same visual warmth and handmade texture. Both processes attract artists seeking that early photographic feel—light rendered as a gentle residue rather than a hard record.

Gum bichromate printing pushes photography toward painting. The process uses gum arabic mixed with pigment and a light-sensitive dichromate, hand-coated onto paper and exposed under a UV source. The unexposed gum washes away, leaving a softly pigmented image. The beauty of gum lies in layering: multiple coats can be applied, each with a different pigment, allowing the artist to build color photographs through tri-color gum printing. The result is tactile, textured, and deliberately imprecise—more a conversation between image and gesture than a mechanical reproduction. Gum prints are often unique hybrids, where brush marks and irregular edges become part of the artwork’s voice.

Oil and bromoil printing belong to the expressive end of historical photography, where image meets painting in both texture and spirit. In the bromoil process, a silver gelatin print is bleached and hardened so that its surface will accept lithographic ink—the darker areas absorb more ink, the lighter ones less. The result can be brushed, dabbed, or rolled, producing textures that range from delicate tonal transitions to bold, painterly strokes. The related oil print achieves a similar effect directly from gelatin hardened in exposure. These techniques appealed to early pictorialists for their ability to merge photographic precision with the emotional language of painting. Today they remain a niche practice, valued for their physical depth, unpredictability, and the sense that the artist’s hand has reentered the photograph.

Lith printing is an expressive variation of silver gelatin printing that replaces precision with controlled chaos. The paper is developed in a highly diluted lithographic solution, causing infectious development—a chemical reaction that makes shadows erupt suddenly while highlights stay soft and glowing. The result is a print with gritty shadows, warm or colored midtones, and luminous highlights that feel almost alive. Every print is unique, shaped by small differences in temperature, paper age, and timing. A few seconds too long in development can shift the entire balance of the print. Lith printing attracts artists who enjoy surrendering part of the process to chance; it turns chemistry into collaboration and transforms the photograph into something that looks less printed than time-worn, discovered, and deeply alive. This unpredictability is part of the appeal: each print feels discovered rather than produced.

III.In-Print Methods

In-print methods make the image on a physical matrix—plate, screen, or block—and then transfer it to paper with pressure. The legacy is tactility and edition discipline: plate impressions, ink relief, paper choice, and the printer’s touch all shape the result. There are dozens techniques in this category: woodcut, linocut, engraving, etching, aquatint, drypoint, mezzotint, photogravure, lithography, screen printing, monotype and offset - to name just a few.

We will only focus here on photogravure, screen printing, mono-printing and offset. These methods bridge photography and printmaking, opening the door to hybrid workflows and layered, crafted surfaces. Except for a mono-print, the defining principle here is the speed and repeatability of producing a series of identical artworks. Similar to the chemical reaction category, the art lies in setting up a process that produces identical prints despite the many variables involved - plate making, ink viscosity, pressure, humidity, plate inking, paper moisture, alignment, temperature, etc. A skilled printer can not only make one excellent print but repeat that quality across an edition. That reliability achieved through precision, control, and understanding of the process is what separates chance and beginners luck from a true craftsmanship.

Photopolymer (Solar Plate / Polymer Gravure)

Photogravure: The image on the left was produced by pressing the plate imprint (shown on the right) under tremendous pressure of an intaglio printing press; each new print requires the plate to be cleaned and re‑inked.

Photopolymer printing, often called solar plate or polymer gravure, bridges photography and printmaking. The process allows photographers and artists to make prints that feel handmade without abandoning the control of digital imaging. Unlike inkjet, which sprays ink onto paper, polymer gravure presses ink into it. The image sits within the fibers, leaving a subtle plate mark that gives the print weight and presence. It looks and feels like intaglio—rich blacks, continuous tone, and a surface you can run your fingers across. That physical impression immediately separates it from the smooth perfection of digital prints. The level of detail and tonal range is astonishing—a well-made print can easily be mistaken for a black-and-white photograph until you run your fingers along its edges and feel the plate impression. After all, this process descends from photogravure, the first technique developed in the 1880s that allowed photographs to be reproduced in ink and distributed as fine prints or in publications, a first Xerox machine, so to speak.

The process starts with a digital negative (inkjet print on a transparent film) and an aquatint screen, which together are exposed under UV light onto a photopolymer metal plate. After exposure, the plate is washed out, hardened, inked, and wiped by hand before being printed on dampened fine art paper with an intaglio press. The artist’s choice of paper and ink—carbon-heavy black, sepia, or warm pigments—sets the mood. Multi-plate color versions expand the process further, turning photographs into richly physical, tactile objects.

Compared to other image-making techniques, photopolymer printing requires specialized equipment that’s neither small nor easy to obtain. It needs a heavy intaglio press often weighing several tons, and large working space to handle plates, inks, and dampened papers. As a result, most artists who practice the process do so in shared print studios or collectives where they can access professional presses. This makes photopolymer printing relatively rare, even though the process itself isn’t especially difficult once the equipment is available. In terms of longevity, photopolymer prints are remarkably durable, made with oil-based inks on cotton papers that can last for hundreds of years.

Screen Printing (Silkscreen)

Screen printing, or silkscreen, is both a fine art technique and an industrial process—one of the oldest known forms of stencil printing. Its origins trace back to ancient China, around a thousand years ago, where stencils made from silk and human hair were used to apply decorative patterns to textiles and paper. The technique spread through Asia, evolving in Japan as katazome and reaching the West much later, where it was adapted for commercial printing in the early twentieth century.

In its modern form, a fine mesh screen is coated with a light-sensitive emulsion, exposed to ultraviolet light through a film positive, and washed to create a stencil. Ink is then pulled across the screen with a squeegee, passing only through the open areas. Each color is printed separately, layer by layer, until the image is complete. Every pass leaves a subtle relief—an accumulation of ink that gives screen prints their tactile surface and unmistakable physicality.

Artists and printers can adjust nearly every variable: mesh count for fine detail or thick texture, inks ranging from dense matte to metallic or fluorescent, and even “split-fountain” techniques that blend multiple colors in a single pull. The process invites experimentation but also demands discipline—each layer must align perfectly for the image to hold. The process is inexpensive—essentially just the cost of ink—and allows for precise and repeatable reproduction of images on paper, fabric, or any flat surface. Before digital printers existed, screen printing was the universal tool for visual communication. Schools and universities used it to make posters and announcements, governments used it for propaganda, and revolutionaries used it to spread dissent. Its simplicity, low cost, and immediacy made it the printing press of the streets.

Screen printing’s contemporary fame as an art process owes much to Andy Warhol, who embraced it in the 1960s precisely for its speed, reproducibility, and bold flatness. He chose screen printing because it represented industrial efficiency and the idea of identical mass production. It was fast, repeatable, and mechanical—everything traditional art was not suppose to be. It was the perfect medium for his view of modern life: art made in the image of mass culture. It allowed him to mass-produce his famous Marilyn Monroe portraits and other works on an industrial scale while still preserving the imperfections that made each print slightly different. That tension between mechanical repetition on industrial scale and human touch defines the medium even today. Screen printing remains a method where art and production, image and surface intersect.

Monoprint / Monotype

Monoprinting is the most direct and spontaneous of all printmaking methods. It’s essentially a drawing or painting made on one surface and transferred to another through pressure - an imprint in the most literal sense. The process merges the immediacy of painting with the tactile depth of printmaking. Each print is unique, one of one, with textures and tonal shifts that can never be exactly repeated.

At its core, monoprinting offers freedom. Unlike most printmaking, which depends on reproducibility, monoprinting celebrates the opposite—the unrepeatable mark, hence the name “mono”. It’s ideal for artists who want to explore gesture, texture, and improvisation without being bound to precise editions. The medium invites accidents and rewards intuition. Artists work additively or subtractively, building up or wiping away ink, sometimes pulling a second, fainter impression known as a ghost print. Techniques like collage, viscosity inking, or chine-collé can add further layers of texture and depth. Related relief and planographic methods—woodcut, linocut, or lithography—extend this vocabulary from bold carved lines to soft, drawn tones. In every case, a monoprint records more than an image; it preserves the gestures and decisions that brought it into being, holding the moment of touch between artist, ink, and paper.

Monoprinting also allows mix-media approch in photography - an ink, paint, or texture can be added, smeared, or lifted to alter the photograph itself - effects that feel alive in a way no digital tool can imitate. Every mark, pressure, and imperfection remains visible and felt. That immediacy connects the artist directly to the work, making each print a small event rather than a product.

Offset printing

Offset printing is a mechanical, lithographic, mass‑production process in which ink is transferred to paper via a system of cylinders. It remains the dominant method for commercial printing used for books, magazines, posters, and packaging because it delivers clean, sharp images at very high speed and low cost when produced in large volumes. Offset presses can print thousands of sheets per hour, typically using the four‑color CMYK process to reproduce full color. Each job therefore requires four separate printing plates—one for cyan, magenta, yellow, and black—making the initial setup costly and practical only for high‑volume runs.

The process relies on the principle that oil and water don’t mix. A flat metal plate (usually aluminum) is prepared so that image areas attract oily ink while non‑image areas attract water. The inked image is first transferred, or “offset,” from the plate to a rubber blanket cylinder, and then from the blanket onto the paper. This indirect transfer gives the process its name.

In the art world, offset printing has long been used for posters and photobooks. Although it cannot match the tonal depth and surface quality of fine inkjet or dark‑room prints, it excels at producing consistent, high‑quality reproductions at scale, though it is typically limited to paper types that do not rival the quality and variations used in fine‑art printing. It isn’t generally considered an art process but rather a tool for marketing and experimentation. It’s used to produce large numbers of copies that can be distributed cheaply or serve as a base for further artistic work using other techniques - screen printing on top, painting, spraying.

Conclusion.

This article introduced two key ideas that are essential for understanding and learning to appreciate art. The first is that, categorically speaking, there are only three ways to make a print: direct application, chemical reaction, and imprint or transfer. Within each category, countless branches and variations exist. Yet, these three fundamental methods give you a mental map of how any image comes into being. They help you see past technical terminology and focus on what’s physically happening between material and surface. Once you understand the process, you begin to understand what an artist is actually doing, what choices they’re making, and where skill and creativity intersect.

The second idea is that technique is not simply a set of tools but a system of thought that reflects the artist’s relationship to material, time, and idea. This idea adds depth to the map. Every medium demands a different balance between time, control, and chance. And tools and methods chosen by an artist are never neutral or random - they reflect the artist’s values and way of thinking through material and surface. Seeing technique this way connects the physical act of making to the artist’s philosophy and intent.

Together, these two concepts shift how we understand art - from something purely aesthetic to something grounded in logic, material, and intention, where matter, time, and thought come together to create meaning. As you master these two ideas, you’ll start to see more depth and purpose in art, and your expectations for each technique will grow with every new encounter. That play between expectation and reality becomes the basis for genuine appreciation of art - or perhaps the start of a beautiful affair with it.

Understanding Value Creation in Printmaking

Sometimes talking about printing with other people reveals how little most people understand about the process of making a good print. Somewhere along the line, photography and print became blurred into a single idea. It used to be that all photographs were prints—there was no other way, and the words photography and print were interchangeable. Photography meant print. Period. Today billions of digital images are created each day, yet only a tiny fraction ever make it as prints, and those few that do, often end up as prints stuck to a fridge.

And this attitude isn’t limited to casual viewers—many photographers themselves no longer print their work or even see the point in trying. Too often, printing is dismissed as trivial, unworthy of a “serious” artist. Part of the blame lies with printer manufacturers and their decades-long marketing campaigns. We’ve been led to believe that printers are smart, almost magical machines: buy one, press a button, and a flawless print appears. Yet, anyone who has actually used a printer knows it’s nothing like that. You might get is a print, but it will not be what you’ve expected to see at all.

The truth is that a print is never simply ‘pressed out’ of a printer. A printer is a dumb machine: it knows nothing about the image it is producing, the paper it is using, the conditions in which it will be viewed, or whether the artist wants it more vivid, softer, or higher in contrast. It has no understanding of whether it is printing a volcanic landscape in Iceland or a cat. All of this must be decided and set by the printmaker. That’s why the same printer can produce a brilliant print in one person’s hands and a muddy, lifeless one in another’s. The artistry lies not in the machine but in the judgment and knowledge of the person guiding it.

The other reason for lack of understanding is the rise of fulfillment services with their enticing promise: “Just send us your file and we’ll ship the print to anyone, anywhere.” It’s a good pitch that many photographers fall for, but the product often falls short. The artist has no control, no visibility over what the customer receives, and the customer - believing the print came directly from Photographer X - rarely questions the quality. And without strict quality control - a print is no better than a poster. It is treated as a commodity and inevitably becomes one.

Printing is part of a larger act of translation. It starts from reality translated to a two-dimensional digital image, and back again into a physical object on paper as a print. Every stage of that translation requires both technical skill and artistic judgment. Every print carries the hand of the maker in every decision, and there is real art in that. And of course, none of it would matter without a strong image to begin with.

And here lies the paradox: the better the image and the better the print, the less visible the expertise behind it becomes. Canon and Epson understand this well, which is why they employ armies of brand ambassadors—photographers with strong source material whose work can be translated seamlessly into brilliant prints. That invisibility of labor and effortless success is one reason why prints are so often undervalued compared to drawings or paintings. People know far more about painters, paints, and their struggles than they do about photographers and printing challenges.

Yet understanding the full process might change how prints are seen. If more people grasped what goes into each print, more would value them, recognize them as art, and perhaps even fall in love with them. It is for this reason that I’ve written this guide. What follows is not a universal formula but a map—a sequence of five stages that begins with importing files from a shoot and ends with the framed artwork. Not every photographer follows all of them. Some stop at step1 or 3, others outsource certain steps in between. What matters is that each stage involves conscious choices, and those choices shape both the final result and the value of their art.

A high-level overview of the complete printing process.

Step 1: Selection

The first step is about narrowing down the images into a strong set of candidates for print. Most photographers are used to culling—sorting through and selecting their best shots—but evaluating with print in mind adds another layer. It’s no longer just about asking which images look great on a screen, but which ones will hold their strength on paper. Which images will look good on a wall? Which will stand the test of time?

This is also the stage where the selected files are batch-processed and given a first round of editing in software such as Lightroom: correcting white balance, adjusting the histogram, straightening, cropping, and removing obvious distractions. More detailed local edits, like skin retouching, are usually left for later steps.

To make this more concrete, let me give you an example. After a day of shooting I might come back with 2,000–3,000 images. Through several rounds of sorting, I cut about 90%, which leaves me with roughly 200 images. I process these in Lightroom, export them, and refine the selection again, this time with print in mind. At that stage, I might select only 30–50% as candidates for printing. Before moving on, I also try to form an idea of what kind of print each image might become - whether it’s something small, large, or better suited for an alternative process.

Step 2: Printing

Once images have been selected for printing, the next decision concerns how to produce them. This stage is often what people imagine when they think of “printing”: choosing the paper, the size, printer settings, and managing color. Most literature and workshops focus almost entirely on this step. Yet inkjet printing at home is not the only option. Options range from printing at home, sending files to a professional lab, or preparing digital negatives for alternative processes. Professional labs typically offer a far wider range of materials and the ability to produce larger sizes. They are also specialists in their offerings—papers, aluminum plates, acrylic glass, wood, canvas.

Paper choice introduces another layer of complexity to navigate. In an ideal world, one might print each image on every type of paper and at multiple sizes, then evaluate which combination works best. Reality, however, makes that impossible. Few can afford to test every option, which is why experience and competence are essential: they save both money and time while selecting the best medium for each image.

Knowing the intended use of the print—personal display, a gift, an exhibition piece, or a print for sale - influences which paper is most appropriate. Each scenario has different requirements and expectations. Conservation aspect is critical for prints intended for sale. Cotton-based papers are archival and long-lasting, but more expensive; wood-pulp papers are cheaper but less durable, yet perfectly fine for home prints where cotton based papers will be on overkill.

Example: From 100 candidates selected in the previous step, I will print 15–20 small 10×15 prints on different paper types. This first round eliminates weaker images and highlights the most suitable papers. The strongest 50 might then be printed at 10×15, from which around half are chosen to test at A4. At this size, flaws become more visible: focus issues, subtle distractions, or tonal imbalances that were not obvious at smaller scales. Some images return to Photoshop for correction and local edits before being reprinted. From the A4 prints, perhaps half progress to A3 prints. By the time printing reaches A2, only a handful images will remain. Many images have natural size limits: they work at 10×15, remain strong at A4, but begin to collapse at A3 or beyond. For an artist, it’s essential to know the point at which an image starts to degrade—and never offer prints beyond that threshold. Today’s AI upscaling tools can extend resolution, but resolution is not the real issue. What matters is how busy, engaging, and interesting the image remains at scale. The human eye adapts quickly: what looked striking when first seen at scale can become visually monotonous once the initial “wow” factor fades. That’s why painters and printmakers have long thought about “viewing distance” and “scale integrity”—the ability of a work to keep rewarding attention at different distances and over time.

In this workflow, my home printer capable of A2 is sufficient for most prints. Anything larger is sent to a professional lab. I have already printed an image in A3/A2 size and know that the image can hold its strength at larger size. Without this initial testing, ordering directly from a lab can feel like a gamble - you can never know what you’ll get back.

Step 3: Post-Print Modification

This stage is often overlooked, yet it opens an entire world of possibilities. A print doesn’t have to be “finished” once it leaves the printer. It can be toned, hand colored, overprinted, aged, or cropped. Gloss layer can be added to matte prints, or matte applied to glossy. Creativity is the only limit here. Post-print interventions have a long tradition in art photography and printmaking. Photographers and printmakers have often modified their work after printing to add uniqueness or character.

The reason many photographers skip this step today is simple: post-print processing is not part of the traditional photographic workflow or education. To do it well requires multidisciplinary knowledge, something few photographers possess. Broadly, these interventions fall into two categories: freehand modification and full-image manipulation.

Freehand modification includes drawing or painting directly onto the print. This demands a clear understanding of how different media interact with paper and ink: acrylic, oil, watercolor, inks, as well as the tools—brushes, markers, cotton swabs. It requires knowledge of color theory, blending, and application. Full-image manipulations, by contrast, are less demanding of artistic draftsmanship. Techniques like toning or second exposures rely more on chemistry and process than on hand and brushwork.

With post processing 10 identical inkjet prints can become 10 very different art objects. That’s what gives this step its creative potential: it breaks the idea of the print as a fixed, endlessly repeatable object. If two photographers print the same file, they will produce nearly identical images. But once post-print processing enters the equation, those same prints may diverge completely—each bearing the unique mark of its maker.

Example: I have toned prints in coffee, hand-colored with acrylics, watercolors, and inks, aged with heat or water. Of course, digital tools can replicate some of these effects, but the point here is not consistency—it is uniqueness. Each intervention adds individuality. It isn’t scalable, and from a business perspective it may not be efficient, but as a creative step it transforms a print into something truly unique.

Step 4: Matting

Matting is often dismissed as something outside the printing process. It is seen as uncreative, something to skip entirely or outsource to a framer. But this could not be further from the truth—matting is the step that transforms a sheet of paper into a work of art. Done well, matting elevates a print from paper into something special. It becomes a permanent part of the artwork, not just a decorative border.

Matting is both perception and preservation. Think of packaging: the way a product is wrapped and presented shapes how we value it. Matting functions the same way for a print—it frames the image, sets the stage, and creates the context in which it will be seen. At the same time, mats create a physical barrier, protecting prints from touching the glass, from fingerprints, and from environmental wear.

The obvious question is then - if standard mats are available everywhere, why bother making your own? The answer is that doing it yourself teaches you about your images. Cutting and fitting mats builds an eye for proportion, balance, and how presentation changes meaning. Custom mats give you full control over framing, and the difference is immediately visible. This knowledge also makes you a better judge when you order matt services form someone else. With large editions, economies of scale inevitably demand outsourcing and uniformity, which dilutes the sense of uniqueness collectors value. Historically, this is exactly why smaller editions with visible signs of craft command higher prices.

Example: For me, matting is the ultimate commitment to the print: dressing it to impress, making it truly unique. I often cut and paint my own mats, experimenting with non-standard window ratios. This gives me complete control over how the print is presented.

Of course, practicality has limits. If I had to produce 50 or 100 identical mats, I would outsource them to a framer with cutting machines—after first designing the mat myself. There is no need to manually create 50 identical mats, but designing the first one by hand is invaluable process. Outsourcing only makes sense once I already know what I want. It is like a designer who spends months creating a chair or a dress but once the winning design is found, it can be reproduced in a factory on a mass scale and at a fraction of a cost.

This is also why I resist producing large editions in principle. With 10–15 prints, every copy can be made by hand. With 50 or 100, the pressure to automate and outsource grows, and the collector ends up with something less personal. A small edition means I spend far more time on each print than someone who is using a print fulfilling service. That additional time is my investment in the “best print” for the most demanding collector and it is why my prints are priced higher.

Step 5: Framing

Up to this stage the process has taken a digital file and turned it into a physical print on paper. Mixed artistic skills may then be applied to modify the print, and matting gives it both presentation and protection. Framing is the final step in this interdisciplinary process.Framing determines how an artwork will live in the world. It is what separates a poster from art. The same image, unframed, can feel casual or temporary; once framed, it gains weight, permanence, and status. That’s why even inexpensive prints or posters look “upgraded” when placed behind glass in a proper frame.

Framing is both protection—against dust, moisture, pollutants, and UV light—and the permanent home for a print. Creatively, it is also one of the most open-ended steps, capable of either elevating or undermining a piece. As the saying goes, bad framing kills great art. The framing options are nearly endless: materials, colors, sizes, depths, glazing.

The choice of frame depends on the type of print and where it will hang. Where will it be displayed? What color are the walls? What else will share the space? What kind of glass does it need—or should there be no glass at all? An artwork never lives in isolation; it is in constant dialogue with its surroundings, and the frame is what facilitates that dialogue. Museums and collectors invest in framing not only for its appearance but also to safeguard a work’s lifespan. For rare or valuable pieces, conservation framing is worth the investment, with museum-grade materials that protect a print for generations.

Today most people settle for thin, industrial metal frames. They are stylish, functional, and draw little attention to themselves. But historically, frames were treated as an art form in their own right—often inseparable from the artwork. That doesn’t mean a print today needs an ornate Rococo frame, but it does mean there is creative potential here. With modern 3D printing, and with skill in wood or metal work, highly sophisticated frames can be made today.

Ready-made frames are often sufficient, but custom framing is a completely different undertaking. A skilled framer blends craftsmanship with design and conservation knowledge, often advising on interior presentation as well as technical protection. Even a quick visit to a local frame shop reveals hundreds of possible custom frames—an easy way to see how different choices might reshape the way a print is perceived.

Example: I rarely ship framed prints. Framing is highly personal and best left to the collector’s own preferences. For personal prints that I hang at home, I often use Nielsen or Halbe premium frames. They are high quality and allow for easy image swapping. The original glass can be replaced with UV-protective acrylic, which also makes the frame lighter. Sometimes I omit glass altogether, letting the print be touched and experienced directly. I’ve also experimented with painting white frames in other colors, using both sprays and markers.

Conclusion

The point of this guide and overview is to give a bit more understanding of the steps involved in printmaking, but also to highlight the difference between photographers who handle every stage themselves and those who do only a few and outsource the rest. In art, the story behind the work is often as important, and sometimes more important than the object itself. If the image alone were what mattered, high-quality reproductions would sell for far more than they do. What we truly value is the connection to the artist. That’s why signed prints, hand-modified works, or editions with COAs (Certificates of Authenticity) command higher value.

There is a big difference between buying a print that has been made and sent by the artist and buying one shipped directly from a fulfilment lab. Knowing that an artist has mastered matting or post-print modification techniques helps explain why such prints cost more than something fresh from the printer. Skills like matting, alternative printing, or hand-finishing require practice, which costs time and money. Each adds an extra layer of uniqueness to a print. But if the market only rewards cheap standard output, there’s little incentive for artists to develop or maintain these skills. The result is a race to the bottom, where the cheapest print wins. This is a real dynamic - the abundance of cheap prints and automated fulfillment has pushed down prices, making it harder for handcrafted or deeply considered prints and artists to compete. This trend helps no one: photographers cannot sustain themselves or refine their skills, and collectors end up with mediocre prints that carry little artistic weight. In such a scenario, the art print competes with a poster as disposable home décor.

This framework can also be applied to other roles to understand value-creating activities in the production chain. A lab, for instance, doesn’t need to engage in image selection—their expertise lies in how best to print what is sent to them. A framer doesn’t need to know the printing process, as their specialization is in matting, framing, and glazing. Each stage has its own craft, and recognizing this helps reveal the full value chain.

An example of a photographer whose engagement with an image ends after the printing stage, outsourcing the rest.

An example of a lab’s full-service offering - only what to print is selected by a customer.

An example of a framing store offering.

What is a good print?

This guide takes you through what goes into creating an art print, how to choose one that fits your space and taste, and what is really worth paying for. When you’re done reading, you’ll have the confidence and know-how to start your own print collection.

Buying an art print should be a simple and enjoyable experience, something you look forward to with excitement and anticipation. After all, art is about emotions and conceptual ideas that resonate with you. What makes owning art so appealing is its power to alter our mental states.

Yet, too often, buying art ends up being confusing or intimidating experience, especially if it’s your first print. People often see buying art as a gamble, where the only way to avoid losing is not to play at all. So, they steer clear of purchasing art altogether, fearing they’ll be taken advantage of or end up feeling duped. That is just sad, but it’s understandable given the nature of the art market.

Buying prints is really not hard. Find an image you love, pick the right size to fit your space, ensure it’s printed on quality materials, frame it, and you’re all set. That is all there is to buying a print. Unless of course you wonder if the price you’ve paid for it was fair.  And it is a valid question. How can you tell if you’re getting a premium print at a fair price or an overpriced, low-quality one? How do you figure out what’s truly worth it? The truth is, you probably don’t, at least not when you’re just starting out. But that’s where this guide steps in, here to help you get up to speed quickly.

Remember, the goal of any purchase is to get the right thing at the right price. In the world of art, that means understanding the printing process and how value is created along the way. Once you learn what makes a print good, bad, or truly exceptional, you’ll never unlearn it—and you’ll be able to recognize exactly what’s worth paying for. Let’s get started!

WHY BUY PRINTS?

Size doesn’t matter. At least not for prints. Actually, scratch that. The bigger, the better… if bigger is better. What? You see, not every image is meant to be printed large. Some are designed to be small, intimate, and personal. Others demand to be showcased in grand sizes and lose their appeal when scaled down. And then there are those that work beautifully in any size. Welcome to the art of choosing the perfect print, and yes, the perfect size too.

Welcome, and let’s address the big question: why buy prints at all? Why do some people choose to spend money on prints when they could use it to buy other things or experiences? Are they wealthy? Art scholars? Social media influencers? What makes them see value where others don’t? These are excellent questions to kick off this conversation.

If we exclude art posters, nearly 99% of people have never bought a print in their entire lives—in fact, not just prints, but no art at all. Ever. This makes print collectors a truly rare breed. But luckily, we have some data to help us understand them better. According to Art Basel’s 2018 Report (which focuses mainly on paintings, not prints), the top five reasons people buy art are aesthetics, passion, supporting an artist, expected return on investment, and portfolio diversification. When it comes to prints, financial motivations can almost entirely be ruled out—very few prints will ever appreciate enough in value to be considered a true investment asset. That leaves aesthetics, passion, supporting an artist, and social reasons. Let’s look at them closely.

Aesthetics often come down to a simple desire: filling a space with art. This might mean choosing a black-and-white print, a bold red or blue piece to match an interior, or even opting for an image of a female figure that complements the room’s vibe. In these cases, the art buyer is rarely an expert in what they’re acquiring, the goal is on filling a spot on the wall rather than acquiring any particular art itself. For instance, a home decorator might recommend or purchase art for a client to create a specific mood or atmosphere within their home. You might be surprised by how often art is purchased simply based on a specific color or combination of colors.

Passion, on the other hand, is purpose-driven and fueled by curiosity. It might arise from a fascination with a certain topic or place, specific print techniques, unique materials, particular models, or the work of a favorite photographer. This type of purchase is often calculated based on the personal joy or meaning the piece will bring over a lifetime. A print can become a powerful reminder of something significant, transport the collector to a particular time or place, or serve as a gateway to something greater—an exploration of craft, art, creativity, the human drive for expression, self-discovery, and authenticity.

For these collectors, a print becomes more than just an object; it’s a story, a piece of their life, and a reflection of their values. They can spend hours talking about their favorite prints, passionately recounting the emotions and connections tied to each piece. These individuals draw energy from art—it’s their escape, their solace, and their way of coping with the ordinary grind of life. For them, art is not just decoration; it’s a bridge to something bigger than the everyday. Many collectors who buy landscape art prints often have a personal connection to the place depicted, which inspires them to have it framed and displayed in their home. Fans of nude models do the same—each new purchase becomes part of their collection, deepening their unique story and personal connection to the place or person captured in the art.

Supporting an artist is a straightforward motivation. This happens when a purchase is made not for the print’s aesthetic appeal or a personal passion, but out of a belief in the artist and their work. It’s a value-driven decision, rooted in thoughts like, “I’m not a fan of their style, but I believe in their vision and want them to continue.” In such cases, buyers may not fully understand the artistic or monetary value of what they’ve purchased. Instead, the act is one of patronage, sometimes resembling charity, driven by a desire to support creativity. Many friends and relatives of artists fall into this category—they buy art, but rarely grasp what it is they’ve acquired and what to do with it.

Finally, there’s the social aspect, where people buy art because they feel it’s expected of them. Whether it’s a status symbol or a situational decision, social motivations are often influenced by external pressures or trends. For instance, certain institutions or families might purchase prints on a trendy topic, not because the art brings them joy, but because they don’t want to appear out of touch or be left behind.

Clearly, out of the 4 main reasons to buy art, it’s the passionate collector who experiences the most joy from purchasing, owning, and curating a collection. This is someone who consciously chooses to spend money on specific pieces, guided by their own criteria and personal satisfaction. Which brings us to the next big topic - money.

There’s a common misconception that collecting art has to be an expensive hobby. Or that is some upper class, bohemian, or academic activity. It is not, and specially not art prints. By eliminating the idea of art as an investment, what’s left is art for pure pleasure. And most prints don’t have to break the bank to have an impact on you. While there are very expensive prints, like large-format prints on metal or premium plexiglass for $3,000 or more, most prints cost under $1,000, with the vast majority priced below $500. This isn’t an insignificant cost, but it’s attainable for many people with the right prioritization. What I mean is that it’s absolutely possible to acquire a very good print for $500, and in this article, I’ll show you exactly how to do it. Remember, the true value of a print isn’t just in its appearance or price—it’s in who you become by owning it. Few things can enrich your life in the same way art does.

Collecting art as an emotional journey

Ultimately, collecting art is not a destination but a journey. As we grow and evolve in our social, economic, and personal lives, so too do our motivations and needs for art. Art is more than something that simply hangs on a wall—it transforms the spaces we live in, provokes thoughts we might have been afraid to explore, and becomes an integral part of our existence. It speaks to who we are, challenges us, and dares us to dream. Collecting art is about moving forward, discovering, and becoming.

Collecting art is a dynamic and deeply personal process. It’s not just about accumulating pieces; it’s about allowing art to influence and enrich your life, while discovering what resonates with you in the moment. Some artworks enter our lives at just the right time, creating an immediate impact and adding meaning we didn’t know we needed. Others grow on us gradually, becoming more significant as time goes on.

Over time, some pieces may fulfill their purpose, paving the way for something new. This evolving relationship with art requires an openness to new experiences, perspectives, and potential acquisitions. Collecting art means planning to expose yourself to new works, exploring possibilities, and remaining open to the unexpected power art can have on your life.

The 4 elements of a good art print

Now, let’s talk about the four key elements that define a professional art print. If any of these components are poorly executed or missing, the value of the print is significantly diminished. Understanding these elements will give you a clearer picture of what makes an art print distinct from an IKEA poster and help you know what to look for when selecting one. These four elements are: the image (or negative), the printer, the paper (or medium) used for printing, and the presentation (including matting, framing, and glass). Before we go any deeper into each of these elements, let me introduce you to a few concepts that will guide us along the way.

Print as a product

At its core, an art print is a product. And like any product, it involves three key components: an idea, execution, and presentation. A shot was taken, the print was created, and it was framed with a specific goal in mind: to become something desirable and meaningful. Ultimately, each print has, or at least should have a purpose to exists. It might aim to decorate, inspire, delight, or provoke deeper emotions. It has to do something, otherwise it is useless as a product.

Think about it: why does an IKEA poster cost a fraction of a professional print? After all, it might even be the same image. The difference lies in the job it’s meant to do and the care that goes into its creation. A print sold at IKEA is "hired" to do a very different job than a professional photographer’s print. These cater to distinct demographics with entirely different motivations. IKEA knows this, and so does the photographer.

The concept of "hiring to do a job" is a marketing idea that emphasizes how customers don't just buy products or services; they "hire" them to fulfill a specific need or solve a problem. For example, when someone buys a drill, they’re not interested in the drill itself but in creating a hole in the wall—a means to a deeper purpose, like making their space feel cozier or more organized. This concept underscores that every purchase satisfies not only functional needs but also emotional and social ones, such as projecting a certain image, fostering comfort, or achieving personal satisfaction.

At IKEA, customers buy prints as convenient, affordable wall decorations. A professional print, however, is an entirely different product. It delivers the full experience—the craftsmanship, the quality, the story behind its creation, and the emotions it evokes when displayed. It is not a casual purchase to fill a kitchen wall. A professional print embodies the skill of the photographer and printer, the meticulous selection of materials, the precision in its presentation, and the authenticity in every detail. It is designed to communicate emotion, with no compromises made to achieve this. What you pay for is purity—comparable to lossless audio or 4K video. A professional art print exists in its purest form, delivering unmatched quality and detail.

By contrast, an IKEA print is "optimized" to be affordable and widely appealing. Its image, size, and colors are "compressed" to meet mass production criteria, ensuring it fits into any setting without challenging its buyers. This approach makes it accessible but strips away the individuality, craftsmanship, and depth that define a true art print. Despite originating from the same source material, these are two entirely different products. They might appear similar at a glance, but they couldn’t be further apart—differing vastly in price, quality, and the emotions they evoke. One is a disposable decorative item, the other is a carefully crafted piece of art.

1.NEGATIVE - THE ORIGINAL SOURCE

The main reason anyone falls in love with a print and wants to own it is, of course, the image itself—the negative. If the original image isn’t strong, no amount of technical perfection in the printing process can save it. By “high quality,” I don’t necessarily mean technical flawlessness. It’s about the energy, vision, and connection the image conveys—something that resonates, inspires, or moves you. A great image retains its power, whether it’s printed on cheap poster paper or as a small 10x15cm print. This is the same principle behind many successful ads and branding campaigns: hire the best photographer you can afford, and everything else falls into place. A great shot can communicate an entire story or emotion, whether it’s featured as a page in a magazine or displayed as a billboard the size of a building. Ultimately, it’s the image and what it represents that draws people in, far more than the print itself.

So, the first step in collecting print art is finding an image that truly speaks to you. It should evoke positive emotions, connect with your memories, or reflect something deeply personal. With nudes, for example, the image might remind you of someone you know, stir memories of youth, or evoke admiration for the human form. Art can also shift your perspective, awaken dormant dreams, or draw you into the artist’s raw intent and emotions, making you a part of their vision. When the energy of an image aligns with you as a viewer, that’s when art becomes powerful and personal.

Consider this: compared to all other types of photography, nudes are an incredibly challenging area to master. There are no YouTube channels dedicated to discussing what makes a good nude, and online courses are almost nonexistent. While there are excellent photo books on the subject, there’s a noticeable lack of theoretical texts and foundational principles, unlike other genres of photography. That said, there are a few insights that can be distilled into key principles.

Rule 1: most nudes that look appealing on a screen won’t translate into good prints. The power of a print lies in its ability to resonate with your shifting states of mind, day after day, as it hangs on your wall. In contrast, images on a screen are designed to be swiped past or viewed for just a few seconds. They tend to be simpler, more direct, and often more explicit. For example, an open-leg nude might grab your attention on a screen, but as a wall print, it will likely bore you within a week.

Rule 2: most images in photo books won’t make great wall prints either. Images in books are curated to follow a sequence and tell a story. Some might work as standalone prints, but many are included to provide context or support the narrative. You may love an image because of how it fits within the book’s flow, but take it out of that context, and it can fall flat, losing all its energy. Even in a highly curated photo book, where only the best images made the cut, perhaps one in ten—or even one in twenty—might have the strength to stand alone as a wall print. This highlights just how difficult it is to find a truly good print.

Rule 3: good nude print is almost always a black-and-white print. This isn’t due to some outdated notion of what qualifies as art or nostalgia for classic prints, or some other BS. It’s because bare skin inevitably triggers specific thoughts in our brains, and we want to steer clear of those predictable patterns. A great print should evoke something new each time you see it, not lead you back to the same thought day after day. Black and white strips away distractions, inviting a deeper, more layered engagement with the image. It makes the familiar less familiar and removes the visual hierarchy created by colors that we learned to respond to.

Rule 4: Not all black-and-white prints are art. Beware of pseudo-artists who rely on the black-and-white aesthetic to disguise mediocre work. Converting a bad image to black and white doesn’t magically transform it into art. The essence of a great photograph lies in its composition, lighting, the model’s expression, pose, and attitude—not in the presence or absence of color. Black and white can only enhance what’s already there; it cannot create substance where there is none.

Rule 5: Don’t mistake a model with great genetics for a great print. Many beginners fall into the trap of confusing an image of a genetically blessed model with a strong photography. But that’s not how it works. While exceptional genetics is a gift, hand a camera to 50 people, and you’ll end up with almost identical “great shots.” of that model. She will likely look good in all of them, but that doesn’t demonstrate skill—it merely showcases access. If the measure of a photographer’s talent is reduced to having access to the best models, it misses the true essence of the craft entirely.

The reality is quite the opposite: a great photographer doesn’t rely solely on exceptional genetics; they discover unique and unconventional ways to convey beauty and express their vision in any setting. The art often lies in the contrast between what’s expected and how it’s executed. Ask yourself: if a different model were in this shot, would it still be a strong photograph for you, or is it just the genetics that draws you in? And take it a step further: if it’s the genetics, could another photographer have captured this person’s beauty even better?Don’t reward mediocrity with your wallet. Pay for work that reflects real creativity, skill, and vision.

Take your time. Explore a variety of prints. Let yourself be drawn to something that stirs something deep within you—something you feel will enrich your life simply by being a part of it. That’s the true essence of art: not just decoration, but a portal to another world, a reflection of another self, offering a glimpse into something deeper and transformative. When you discover that image—one you can analyze, defend, and truly desire to own—it becomes personal. It becomes yours.

When you’ve chosen an image you love, the next step is to consider the aspect ratio—essentially, the image’s proportions—and the size of the print you want. These two factors work together to shape how the artwork will look and feel in your space, influencing both the composition of the image and its overall presence in the room.

Different croppings of the same image create slightly different stories. The traditional ratio on the right includes more ground and sky, but does this extra context add value, or can we do without it, as seen in the square crop on the left? Which one is more appealing to you? Why?

A camera’s original rectangular photo can be cropped into different ratios, each highlighting specific parts of the image and altering how you experience it. You see this all the time in fashion ads: the same photo might appear vertically in a magazine but horizontally on a billboard. This process, called cropping or trimming, can dramatically influence the focus and balance of an image.

For example, a square crop feels balanced and harmonious, drawing attention to the central elements, while a wide panoramic crop might isolate the subject from its surroundings, creating a sense of space and expansiveness. Cropping is all about controlling where the viewer’s attention goes and reshaping the story the image tells.

The original aspect ratio isn’t always the best choice. In some cases, thoughtful cropping can elevate an image’s impact by focusing attention or removing distractions. As discussed before, nudes that grab your attention on a screen might not translate well into prints for your space. Cropping can emphasize or downplay certain areas of an image, significantly influencing how it’s perceived.

As the medium shifts from screen to paper, aspect ratios often need to adapt. Exploring different variations of the same image can reveal the format that best aligns with your vision and suits the environment where it will be displayed. For instance, one room might call for a square format, while another could be better suited to a panoramic layout.

Once you’ve settled on your preferred aspect ratio, you’ll often have a clear sense of the image size you want to own. Few apartments can comfortably accommodate very large prints, and even when budget isn’t a concern, mid-sized prints—like 30x40cm or 40x50cm—remain the most popular. These sizes are versatile, easy to hang, and fit well into a variety of spaces—40x50cm, for instance, is often considered a gallery-sized print, striking a balance between presence and manageability. Smaller prints, such as 10x15cm or 13x18cm, are perfect for tables or shelves, offering a more intimate, up-close experience. They also serve as an excellent introduction to different paper types or printing styles, making them a smart choice before committing to a larger piece.

Print Sizes Chart. Each size follows the principle that the next size is roughly twice the size of the one before it. Starting with XS, a standard 10×15cm (A6 or 4×6in) print, the progression leads up to A1, which is equivalent to 32 A6 sheets.

After choosing your image, ratio, and size, the next step is determining whether the asking price is fair. To do this, you need to understand how the print was made—what materials were used, the printing process, and the craftsmanship behind it. These details are crucial in assessing its true value. After all, simply cropping an image and printing it on a home printer isn’t art—it’s just reproduction. True art prints are the result of deliberate choices, skilled techniques, and a dedication to quality that elevates them beyond simple prints.

2.PRINTER – THE MACHINE’S QUALITY AND CAPABILITY.

The next element is to understand the printer and inks used to bring an image to life. Since most prints are purchased online, assessing quality firsthand isn’t usually an option—you’re left relying on the information provided in the product description, which isn’t always as detailed as it should be. This lack of transparency can make it difficult to evaluate the true craftsmanship behind a print before committing to buy. Many high-quality art prints come with a Certificate of Authenticity, which typically details the method of production. This certificate not only provides assurance about the print’s origins but also adds credibility to the craftsmanship, making it an important factor to look for when browsing prints online.

What really matters in this step is whether the print you are considering to buy will stand the test of time. A beautiful image printed with low-quality inks might look stunning initially, but it will fade quickly, losing its vibrancy and contrast. Even when printed on high-quality paper, non-genuine or experimental inks can compromise both the quality and longevity of the print. This is exactly the kind of information you need to know before making a purchase. After all, spending $30 on an image you like, even if it might fade in a year, can feel like a reasonable gamble—after all, you might not even like it anymore by then. But paying $300 for the same print, believing it’s a true art print meant to last, only to discover it will fade quickly, is a painful experience.

Printers are essential tools in the art creation process, playing a role as significant as oil paints or chisels did for the masters of the past. While art prints can also be made using methods like chemical development or silk screening, this guide focuses exclusively on inkjet printers—the most popular method for creating modern, high-quality art prints.

Note, the next section might feel a bit technical, but I assure you it’s all very straightforward and easy to follow. It is for your own best.

Printers. Today’s printers are vastly more advanced than those from just a couple of decades ago. Comparing a professional digital print from 2005 to one produced today reveals a striking difference in quality that anyone can notice. What once seemed like magical results can now be surpassed by even inexpensive home printers in 2025. The progress is undeniable.

However, even with today’s advancements, not all printers are created equal. High-end printers utilize cutting-edge technology to achieve exceptional results, while consumer-grade models still fall short in key areas. The same applies to inks—some are not designed for producing archival-quality prints and may fade after just a few months. Ensuring your print retains its vibrancy and detail over time means understanding the printer and inks used in its creation.

There are two main types of inks used in modern printing, each with many variations ranging from budget options to professional-grade formulations. Knowing the differences can help you make an informed decision and ensure you’re investing in a print that will truly stand the test of time.

The 9-ink pigment palette of the Epson P800. Note that only 8 inks are active at a time, as Matte Black and Photo Black (for glossy prints) cannot be used simultaneously.

Pigment inks are renowned for their durability and deep penetration into the paper. Made from solid particles suspended in liquid, these inks bond with the paper by embedding themselves into its surface. This process provides exceptional resistance to light and environmental factors, ensuring the print’s stability over time. Pigment inks are ideal for art prints, as they can last for decades without fading, making them the preferred choice for high-quality, long-lasting work. Most photographers, particularly those working with black-and-white images, rely on pigment inks for their superior archival properties.

Dye inks, by contrast, are water-based and known for their vibrant colors immediately after printing. Unlike pigment inks, they sit on the surface of the paper rather than embedding into it. They excel on glossy paper, producing vivid, eye-catching colors with smoother rendering than pigment inks. However, they fall short in longevity compared to pigment inks due to their vulnerability to fading when exposed to light.

While dye inks are an excellent choice for temporary or high-impact prints, they are less suitable for artwork meant to last for decades. That said, advancements in dye ink technology have introduced additives that can significantly improve their longevity, making them a more viable option for certain applications where durability is still a consideration.

The primary threat to your prints over time is UV light exposure. UV rays can degrade inks, causing colors to fade and lose their vibrancy, especially if the print is made with non-UV-resistant inks or displayed without UV-protective glass. Even prints of the highest quality can deteriorate when exposed to prolonged sunlight, diminishing their beauty and detail.

This is why prints stored in photo albums or other light-protected environments tend to retain their vibrancy far longer than those displayed on walls with direct sunlight. For prints intended for display, using UV-resistant inks and framing materials, such as UV-protective glass or acrylic, is crucial to ensuring their longevity and preserving their original brilliance.

The printhead. The type of ink—pigment or dye—is just one input in print production. Other critical factors include the number of inks a printer uses and the printhead itself.  Over the past two decades, the printing industry has evolved significantly, moving from 3-color inks systems to models that now utilize more than 12 inks in 2025.

Having more inks allows printers to achieve a wider color gamut, enabling more accurate and nuanced reproductions of shades, gradients, and details. This results in smoother color transitions, more vibrant and lifelike images, and greater depth and realism in the final print. Consider this: the latest professional printers with expanded ink sets are now rapidly approaching the color range of high-end RGB monitors—about 50-60% of human vision. This marks a significant improvement from just a few years ago, when printers could only achieve around 30-40% of the colors visible to the human eye.

For black-and-white art prints, printers with more ink options often include multiple shades of black and gray, along with subtle tints like light gray or warm and cool tones. These additional shades create smoother gradients and add depth, resulting in a richer tonal range. Instead of relying solely on black ink, the extra gray inks enhance details in shadows, mid-tones, and highlights, avoiding harsh transitions and producing a more refined image.

For example, a black-and-white image printed on a 10-ink printer will generally outperform one printed on a 6-ink printer. The increased tonal precision and smoother transitions make the final result more balanced, sophisticated, and true to the original artistic intent.

The printhead plays a crucial role in the printing process, determining how ink is applied to the paper and directly influencing the quality of the final print. Think about it: a high-end printer can produce up to 16 million colors using just 12 inks. How does it know which colors to mix and in what order to apply them? The answer lies in the printhead - which is a sophisticated combination of advanced hardware and highly refined software. Together, they work to ensure sharper details, smoother color gradients, and more accurate color reproduction.

The same ink can produce vastly different results depending on the printer it’s used in. For instance, a newer printer model often delivers superior prints compared to an older one, even when both use the same type of inks. This is because manufacturers continuously refine printhead technology and ink formulations, pushing the boundaries of print quality with each new generation of printers.

To summarize, the better the printhead, the more precisely it distributes and mixes ink, resulting in higher resolution prints with crisper, clearer details. This incredible precision and coordination enable modern printers to transform a limited number of inks into a breathtakingly wide spectrum of colors, producing prints that are both vibrant and true to life.

Understanding the type of printer used offers valuable insight into the print’s overall quality, detail, and durability when evaluating an art print. However, this alone isn’t enough; the choice of paper is just as crucial. The combination of the printer and the paper determines the final look, feel, and longevity of the artwork, making both elements inseparable in assessing its true value.

3.PAPER/MEDIUM – THE MATERIAL ON WHICH THE IMAGE IS PRINTED

Just a small sample of the many high-quality photo papers available. With hundreds of variations in texture, tone, composition, and size, knowing how to match the right paper to the right photograph is where true print artists shine.

The type of paper used is the third key element in determining the final quality of an art print. While a great printer and the latest inks are essential, the right paper can make all the difference in bringing the artwork to life.

Technically, not all inks (and printer models) are compatible with all paper types, and not every printer can handle every kind of paper. The choice of paper can profoundly affect how an image is perceived. A poor paper selection can lead to dull colors, reduced contrast, or unwanted tonal shifts, detracting from the overall impact of the artwork. The right paper enhances the artwork, creating a truly compelling art print.

There’s a significant difference in the type and cost of paper, sometimes varying by as much as 20x in price depending on its quality and properties. Higher-cost papers generally offer superior performance, with better color reproduction, longevity, and texture. However, exclusivity can also influence the price—some papers are rare or produced in limited quantities out of limited materials, which allows them to command a premium.

In general, photo papers fall into four categories:

1. Budget Photo Papers – Found at stores like Walmart or Lidl, these are typically glossy papers for home printing and temporary prints. A 50-pack can cost as much as one sheet of premium paper.

2. Professional Papers – These papers strike a balance between quality and cost, offering excellent image clarity and solid durability. However, they may have some compromises in their composition, such as not being acid-free or containing optical brightening agents (OBAs). OBAs enhance brightness and whiteness but can potentially impact long-term stability. Despite these limitations, professional papers are widely used in photo labs due to their reliability and versatility across a range of print jobs. The types of papers in this category typically include various levels of glossy and matte finishes, catering to different artistic styles and preferences. Both Canon and Epson produce high-quality papers in this range, along with offerings from numerous other reputable paper manufacturers, ensuring a wide selection for different printing needs.

3. Luxury or Premium Art Papers – These are top-tier papers, produced at a higher cost and often reserved for special, high-end projects. They are designed to deliver exceptional quality for art pieces where nothing less than the best will do, making them ideal for museums, galleries, weddings, and true fine art prints. Due to their exclusivity, these papers are not always easy to find in stores, and their prices are significantly higher than professional-level papers. Common types in this category include baryta, cotton, bamboo, and hemp-based papers, each offering unique textures, tones, and archival qualities that elevate the artwork to the highest standards.

4. Experimental Surfaces – This category includes papers and other print materials with unique textures or innovative formulations. Examples include ultra-thin, translucent Asian papers, special fiber compositions, or materials like canvas, aluminum, wood, or plexiglass. These surfaces stand out for their visual impact and creative appeal rather than their long-term archival quality. They are perfect for bold, contemporary pieces where making a statement takes precedence over durability, offering an exciting way to experiment with presentation and style.

When it comes to papers, great papers aren’t cheap, and cheap papers aren’t great. This means you should expect an expensive print to be crafted on an equally expensive paper, ensuring maximum quality and longevity. Look for papers that are free of optical brightening agents (OBAs) and acid-free, preferably made from cotton or other non-wood materials for superior durability and appearance.

Furthermore, take some time to explore the different types of paper surfaces and coatings available. Most people only know glossy and matte, but there’s a wide range—from ultra-glossy and metallic, to textured, rough mattes, and everything in between. Each surface has its own strengths and ideal use cases, so it’s worth learning about them and figuring out what you’ll truly appreciate in your prints. Some surfaces are designed to be tactile, once framed and hung on a wall, that texture can often become less noticeable or even disappear entirely. Other surfaces are not meant to be touched at all. If you want your print to be accessible for everyone to handle, these delicate surfaces won’t hold up for long.

The thickness of the paper can also be a significant characteristic. Premium papers are generally thicker and more durable. Look for papers that are around 300gsm or more for a high-quality feel and lasting impression.

In addition to surface and grams, look for premium papers from trusted brands such as Canson, Hahnemühle, Innova, MOAB, FotoSpeed, MediaJet, or certain high-end lines from Epson and Canon. Whenever possible, ask for a sample or small print, to experience the paper’s texture and finish firsthand before committing to a larger print. Understanding paper types is essential to fully valuing and appreciating a print.

“White paper” is an umbrella term for many different types of paper—each with its own effect on the final image. The same ink behaves very differently depending on the paper’s surface, coating, thickness, and tone.

Up to this point, we’ve covered three key elements of a great print: the source image, the printer and its inks, and the paper. Many photographers stop here, assuming that whatever comes out of their printer is already art. But that’s only half true. What emerges from the printer are high-quality raw ingredients. The true transformation into art, the actual cooking, happens in the next step—matting and framing.

For a deeper dive, check out our full article on choosing the right art paper.

4.PRESENTATION – FRAMING

In the art world, framing is a separate profession—a highly skilled craft where framers have the expertise to transform almost anything into framed art, whether it’s a t-shirt, a print, or a painting. Becoming a professional framer often involves 2–3 years of education, as the role requires mastering various disciplines - color and material theory, presentation techniques, preservation and archival practices, as well as technical skills to create, repair, and modify frames, prints, and passepartout.

Framers are trained to meet archival and conservation standards, often requiring certification to ensure their methods protect and preserve the artwork for the long term. Their expertise often goes unnoticed by the general public but is essential for elevating and safeguarding art for galleries, museums, and private collectors. While their services can come at a significant cost for a private individual, the result is a custom-made solution tailored specifically to your needs, ensuring both the presentation and preservation of the artwork are of the highest standard.

Clearly, most photographers are not trained framers, and their framing skills are often limited. Critical elements such as archival practices, material selection, and precision craftsmanship typically fall outside their expertise. However, framing is not rocket science, and any motivated photographer can master a few essential techniques tailored to their art presentation without needing to acquire the full range of skills that a professional framer might have.

As an art collector, it’s essential to distinguish between the good, the bad, and the ugly of framing.

Framing turns a simple print into an artwork. It’s what separates a hobbyist from an artist. Each step—from loose print to mounting and framing - strengthens the artwork, protects it, adds artistic value, and turns it into something worth collecting.

Without framing, a print is just a sheet of paper with ink from an inkjet printer—it’s not an art yet.

Like a dish in a fine restaurant, where a pot of soup in the kitchen is yet to become the chef’s signature creation served to customers in the dining room, it requires thoughtful presentation to elevate it from just a soup to an experience—something that justifies its price, sets it apart from the restaurant next door, and creates a lasting memory. People don’t pay for food in these places; they pay for an experience.

In the same way, people who buy fine art prints don’t just buy prints—they buy an experience. The right matting, framing, and glassing transform a print into a polished and complete work of art, elevating it from ink on paper to something that defines its value, presence, and impact.

Let’s break it down into steps.

Passepartout (Matting)

Passepartout is a thick cardboard frame that surrounds a print. It serves multiple purposes, both practical and creative, to elevate the presentation of the artwork:

• Protection. According to preservation guidelines, a print should always be kept away from coming into direct contact with the glass in a frame. Glass, being an excellent conductor of temperature, can cause issues like sticking, moisture absorption, or heat damage when in direct contact with a print, potentially damaging it. The passepartout creates a protective gap of 1–3mm between the print and the glass, protecting it from these risks.

• Modifier: Passepartout can adjust the aspect ratio of the artwork. For instance, a rectangular print can be transformed into a square by modifying the passepartout’s opening. This ability allows the passepartout to influence the narrative and visual impact of a print, subtly altering how the artwork is perceived.

• Directing Attention: Passepartout creates a visual separation between the artwork and the frame, acting as a preframe that draws focus to the image itself. Without it, a plain image on a wall is heavily influenced by its surroundings. Essentially, passepartout isolates the artwork and saying “Hey! This is important—look here.” This is why most museums and galleries rely on passepartout to separate the artwork from its surrounding environment.

• Creative Finish: Passepartout opens up endless possibilities for personalization. While white or black are a standard in galleries and museums, it can feel cold or overly formal at home. Colored passepartout can match interior backgrounds, offer variety, or add contrast. Custom designs, including uniquely shaped openings or bevels in contrasting colors, elevate the print and turn the matting into an art form itself.

• Exclusivity: Custom-made passepartout often becomes an integral and inseparable part of the artwork. Creating a high-quality passepartout requires specialized tools and training, which is why many photographers either overlook this step or outsource it to professional framers. However, when done skillfully, the handcrafted nature of a custom passepartout adds a layer of exclusivity and significantly enhances the perceived value of the art. This careful attention to detail and thoughtful craftsmanship is what elevates a print into a true art print.

Beware that not all matting materials are created equal. Since a passepartout is often seen as enhancing the value of a print, many manufacturers try to offer cheap alternatives designed for elevating low-quality prints. They are cheap because they’re made using low-cost materials and processes such as non-acid-free materials that cause long-term harm to your print. Furthermore, poor-quality mats or backings can release harmful gases inside a closed frame, leading to the gradual deterioration of the artwork. That’s why it’s essential to ensure that the presentation not only enhances the aesthetics but also protects the print, rather than acting as a decorative touch that might ultimately compromise its longevity.

Types of passepartout.

Three different types of passepartout are shown. The 1.4mm is the most common and also the cheapest, its surface is noticeably less smooth compared to the other two. The 3mm version might not fit standard ready-to-hang store frames and will require a custom framing, hence 1.8mm version is often the best practical choice.

Budget passepartout are usually 1–1.4mm thick and made from low-cost materials. Their thinness reduces both their protective qualities and visual appeal, but they do provide the basic function of keeping the print separated from the glass. On closer inspection, you’ll often notice that the bevel is not the same clean white as the passepartout but reveals the cheap brown cardboard beneath.

A standard passepartout is typically 1.5–1.9mm thick and made from acid-free materials. These are commonly sold at frame stores in standard frame sizes with pre-cut openings. They generally provide adequate protection for the artwork while also offering a visual enhancement, making them a reliable choice for most framing needs. Custom-made passepartout are typically in the same thickness range, around 1.5–2mm, as most cutting tools are designed to handle materials up to 2mm thick.

Premium passepartout typically start at 2mm thickness and beyond. Museum-grade passepartout are often 3mm thick and made from cotton, offering exceptional quality and durability. These passepartout are significantly more expensive than standard options, require specialized equipment to cut and handle, and are usually reserved for truly special and highly valuable artworks. They might also be too thick to fit into standard frames, often requiring a custom frame instead.

Most of DROYC prints come with an acid-free passepartout but shipped without a frame. This is intentional. We want you to take that final step and choose a frame that fits your space and personal taste. Taking the time to select the perfect frame creates a deeper connection to the art, making it uniquely yours. It’s not just about hanging a ready-made piece on your wall, it’s about curating the art to reflect your style. Sometimes, that simple act of choosing the frame is what makes you fall in love with the piece.

Frames

Generally, we don’t sell art pre-framed. First, framing is highly personal. The ideal frame depends on your space, your existing art, and your individual taste. Some collectors prefer uniform frames for a cohesive look, while others seek unique, custom framing for each piece. It’s nearly impossible to offer a one-size-fits-all option, and framing can be costly, so why charge you for something you may want to change anyway?

Second, choosing your own frame makes the art more meaningful and personal. This taps into the "IKEA effect" phenomenon - the idea that we value things more when we’ve invested time and effort in creating or customizing them. In other words, by spending time researching and selecting a frame you make your art much more personal to you.

Finally, framing significantly increases shipping costs and risks. Frames are heavy, glass can shatter, and artwork can be damaged in transit. By skipping framing, we can offer more affordable prices and safer, simpler shipping—leaving you the savings to invest in the perfect frame yourself.

To help you navigate the world of framing, we’ve created a practical guide on how to choose the right frame for your art. You can also watch a few videos about framing on YouTube to get you started.

CONCLUSION

If you’ve made it this far, you’ve hopefully realized that creating a great print requires multiple elements coming together seamlessly and you are now able to recognize at least some of these elements. Let’s recap.

Art prints are called “art” not solely because of the image itself, but because they embody the thoughtful transformation of a great negative into a physical object—one you can hold, admire, and live with in your own space. It’s this combination of visual beauty and tactile experience that elevates a print into a true work of art. The value and price of an art print often reflect the harmony of these elements working together.

By buying a print, you’re voting with your money. Purchasing a low-quality print supports and sustains subpar production standards, encouraging mediocrity in the art world. On the other hand, investing in a high-quality print not only enriches your own life but also helps maintain and promote excellence in the craft. You contribute to a process that brings joy and inspiration to other collectors and enable the photographer to continue creating meaningful work at the highest level.

Producing high-quality prints is no easy task. If it were, anyone with a decent Epson or Canon printer could do it at home. But the steep learning curve deters most people. Many photographers selling prints lack an understanding of what makes a print truly great. They often haven’t bought art prints themselves and fail to grasp the emotional or aesthetic appeal of their own work. The result? Prints that look no better than what you’d get from a home printer on auto mode—yet priced as art. That is not right, and should not be rewarded.

The same holds true for many galleries and photo labs. For example, I once purchased a print from YellowKorner, a French gallery/store that sells limited-edition photography prints. The print’s quality was low, so I got a replacement, which was slightly better but still poorly optimized for the image. The moral - just because it comes from a well-known brand doesn’t guarantee perfection. Their processes are often optimized for scalability and affordability rather than the highest possible quality. To their credit, some high-end pieces, particularly large-format prints, may be of a very high quality since these are handmade and produced in smaller quantities. Still, it’s vital to ask questions and do your research before investing in your first art piece.

There’s a lot of mediocre work out there, but finding a truly great print—one worthy of display in your home—is rare and rewarding. Take the first step and you will never regret it!

The Limited Edition Mindset

Most photographers know the basics of limited editions - how to print, price, and sign them. Collectors, too, often know what makes limited editions special. Yet, there is a question that rarely gets explored deeply: why limit an edition at all? What does limiting editions really accomplish for the art, for the artist, for the collector? Few articles dive into the strategy behind making that choice in the first place. To fully understand the limited editions strategy, we need to explore what limited editions mean from both the artist’s and the collector’s perspectives, because one doesn’t work without the other.

When I say “strategy,” I don’t mean the practical steps of producing or selling a limited edition. I’m talking about the mindset, the philosophy behind the choice to limit an edition in the first place. Understanding this mindset matters to both artists and collectors. For artists, it helps them make deliberate, purposeful decisions rather than just following trends. For collectors, understanding the artist’s intent provides insight into why an artwork is special artistically, emotionally, and financially. It transforms the act of collecting into something more meaningful: a genuine connection with the artist’s vision. As a result, understanding this mindset enriches the whole process of creating, sharing, and owning art.

For many artists, releasing work as a limited edition is both a creative and strategic decision. It’s a way to control how the work enters the world and how it’s perceived and valued in an oversaturated art market. A strong limited edition strategy ties together the number of prints, the price point, and the presentation into a single story. It highlights quality and exclusivity, establishing the artwork’s value both artistically and financially.

Even more importantly, limited editions help artists form meaningful, long-term relationships with serious collectors. These relationships build trust, enhance the artist’s reputation, and lead to ongoing support and steady income over time.

But at the core of any limited edition strategy is the image itself. The decision about which image to edition, and how large that edition should be, influences both the meaning of the edition and its impact on the market.

1.Purpose behind the numbers

When an artist caps an edition at 10 or 20 prints, they’re not just limiting quantity, they’re setting the terms. It sends a clear message to collectors: this work is rare and won’t be available forever. That alone raises perceived value and focuses attention. Scarcity, of course, plays a key role - when the supply is very limited, the work commands more interest and a higher price per piece. It creates urgency. People act faster when they know something might disappear, especially if previous editions have sold out quickly.

But scarcity isn’t necessarily about marketing gimmick. Often, there’s real data behind those edition numbers. Most artists aren’t global celebrities and even if they could produce 100 prints, they might realistically only sell 15. In that case, setting a smaller edition isn’t a sales trick but a reflection of the artist’s actual market.

This is where strategy meets artistic judgment and experience. Choosing an edition size is often a mix of ambition and honest self-awareness about the artist’s audience. The challenge is finding the right balance. On one hand, artists don’t want to overprint—setting the edition too high can lower the perceived value and leave them with unsold inventory for years. On the other hand, printing too few can mean selling out too quickly and missing the chance to meet real demand or generate additional revenue. It’s a classic supply-and-demand forecasting problem, but with creative stakes.

Some artists would rather sell one print for €4,000 than ten for €400 or forty for €100 each. That choice reflects both personal philosophy and practical limitations. For some, producing forty high-quality prints simply isn’t realistic—whether due to time, resources, or energy. Focusing on just a few carefully made prints each month might not only be more manageable, but also more fulfilling. It’s a strategy that aligns with how the artist wants to work and what they value in the process. It’s about purpose. It might also come down to size. Some artists simply don’t want to sell small prints - they see their work as something that needs to be experienced large, with all the visual and emotional weight that comes with a big, commanding presence. But selling wall-sized prints naturally limits the audience. Not everyone has the space, interest, or budget for such a artwork, so expecting to sell just one or two works becomes a more realistic goal.

Some artists approach this by offering their work in a range of sizes - think XS to XL, anticipating that only a few collectors will go for the large-format versions, while more might opt for smaller, more affordable prints. It’s similar to estimating how many people will buy a T-shirt in S, M, or XL sizes. You’ll almost always sell more if you offer options, rather than forcing everyone into one format or size. This kind of segmentation gives flexibility without inflating the total edition size.

Other artists take a more direct approach by speaking with loyal collectors before releasing new work. Getting early commitments from serious buyers helps plan the edition size more confidently. But honoring those early supporters also means keeping the edition tight. If 15 collectors commit to one print each, they’re not going to be thrilled to find out they own 1 of 100. In those cases, an additional 5–10 prints might be acceptable—making the total edition 20–25, not 100. Respecting the loyalty of early buyers is part of the long game.

Experienced artists usually know their range. They don’t inflate edition sizes to boost their ego or bet on sales 5 years down the line. A well-planned limited edition should move quickly and not linger on an artist’s website half a decade after its release. In short, a well-planned limited edition isn’t just about making money but also about understanding your audience while keeping the edition size meaningful and truly exclusive.

2. Building connections through quality

Then there’s the issue of attention and quality. Small editions are more personal. When an artist is printing 10 or 20 copies, every single one matters. Each print still feels like a conscious, hands-on effort—not a batch job. But once an edition scales to 50 or more, the process starts to shift. It risks becoming a production line. The connection fades, and with it, the story behind the work. It’s hard to sell something as exclusive when it no longer feels personal—not to the collector, and not to the artist.

A true commitment to quality naturally puts a cap on how big an edition can be. Yes, it’s technically possible to hand-print 100 or even 300 copies but doing that takes serious time and energy, and the price per print usually has to drop to make it viable. It quickly becomes a counterproductive effort: the more prints in the edition, the lower the price per piece. But it takes longer to produce. So while the total revenue might go up with a larger edition, the actual profit per print often goes down. The question then becomes whether that time could have been better spent on another image. Maybe producing two or three smaller, tighter editions instead of committing to one large one would lead to more engagement, more flexibility, and a stronger collection.

Choosing a realistic edition size isn’t just a business decision, it’s a creative one. It shapes the pace of the work, the rhythm of production, and the kind of relationship the artist wants to have with the work and their audience.

3. Limited Edition as Curation of a Life’s Work

And finally, limited editions give structure and legacy to an artist’s career. They draw a clear line in the catalogue: what was made, when it was released, and how many copies exist. Once an edition sells out, it’s closed, and that finality gives the work weight. It becomes a fixed chapter in the artist’s story, not just another print floating around the market. For collectors, that sense of authorship and closure is part of what makes the work meaningful.

Think of it this way: a photographer might have 50,000 images in their archive, but only 250 ever became prints—and of those, maybe just 10 were released as limited edition series. That tells a powerful story of time, skill, and dedication. It shows what truly mattered to the artist, what they believed was worth their time, what they chose to preserve at the highest level of quality, what they were willing to stand behind and be remembered for.

Choosing which works become limited editions is an act of curation. It’s how an artist defines their own legacy. It’s a way of saying “This one matters. This is the version I want to live on.” Out of hundreds or thousands of works, only a handful are chosen to be part of this smaller, more intentional record. Over time, these editions form a kind of autobiography - not of the artist’s life, but of their most deliberate creative moments.

Seen this way, limited editions aren’t about restriction. They’re about clarity. They’re a way of distilling a lifetime of work into something focused, collectible, and enduring.

And of course, the collectors who buy into that edition become part of the story. They’re not just buyers, they’re evangelists. Apostles of the artist’s vision. People who help write the story and shape the legacy. And that, at its core, is what Limited Edition is really about - purpose, connection, legacy.

4. The collector’s perspective.

Now let’s look at the collector’s side. What makes a limited edition print worth paying for? What motivates someone to pay more for a limited edition when almost identical prints can be bought for much less? The value comes from multiple drivers - emotional, material, cultural, and personal. How much weight each of these carries depends on the collector, but here’s how it generally breaks down. The percentages given aren’t scientifically or statistically validated - they’re just meant to give a general sense of the ranking.

1. Exclusivity and Privilege (~50%)

This is the main psychological driver for most collectors. They’re not just buying art, they’re buying access to something that most people can’t get. The right to say “I own one of 15 copies” and the feeling that they’re part of something rare, specific, and ahead of the curve. Scarcity adds both emotional and social weight, especially in high-priced or ultra-limited editions.

There’s also a sense of discovery—a feeling that they’ve spotted something early. Maybe the artist will become more recognized, maybe not. Serious collectors know that most limited edition prints won’t skyrocket in value. The motivation usually isn’t speculation—it’s connection. They buy because the work speaks to them, because they like it, because it makes them feel something. It’s an emotional purchase, not a financial investment. The exclusivity is just a bonus.

2. Quality and Connection (~30%)

This is about the physical experience of the object. The paper, the texture, the tonal depth, the sharpness, the ink. Even if the collector isn’t trained to see the details, they can usually feel them. A well-made print holds space. It has weight and presence. It looks and feels different from a mass-produced reproduction.

Presentation matters too. A signed, numbered print communicates care. It proves that someone made this with intention, and that it came directly from the artist—not from a generic photolab. That kind of authenticity adds emotional resonance. A signed print on the wall isn’t just a picture - it’s a story, a personal statement, a conversation waiting to happen. This speaks to a universal human need to be good at something, and here it is a question of a good taste.

3. Support for the Artist (~20%)

This part isn’t always talked about, but it’s real. Some buyers simply want to support the artist. They believe in the work and the person behind it. Buying a limited edition is their way of showing up, of saying “I see what you’re doing, and I want to be part of it.” If the artist becomes more visible down the road, the collector gets to say, “I was there from the start.” Moreover this type of early support, often leading to early access, special releases, and direct conversations with an artist.

These three motivations ties in well with the artist’s perspective—purpose and scarcity create a sense of exclusivity that appeals to collectors. A strong focus on quality builds deeper connections, something both artists and collectors genuinely care about. And when the artist is thoughtful about what they release and how, it often leads to even greater support. Mindful curation doesn’t just increase desire for the work—it strengthens trust in the artist and makes people want to be part of that journey. Any serious collector understands that limited editions help support the creative life of an artist. Paying more for limited edition is not just about owning a rare art; it’s a way of showing that the artist’s work and artistic vision matter and are worth supporting.

Types of Limited Editions

Understanding editions is an essential knowledge for anyone collecting prints seriously. It tells you how rare, intentional, and valuable a print really is. It directly affects how you evaluate the artwork. Beyond just the number of copies, it’s about understanding the bigger value - the artist’s intention, the production method, and how the print fits into their broader body of work. Understanding these details helps you make smarter decisions, recognize quality, and connect more deeply with the work beyond the image itself.

Generally, there are three main types of prints: one-offs, limited editions, and open editions. You can think of them as one, some, and unlimited copies. Each category has its own subtypes and nuances. Let’s take a closer look at what each one includes.

Type 1: One-Offs

Type 1 includes all works created as a single, unique piece of art. They are not reproducible. Most traditional art—like paintings, sculptures, and drawings—falls into this category. Historically, this was the dominant form of artmaking before mechanical and digital reproduction became widespread. Here are some variations:

• One Print/One-Off/Unique
  This means exactly what it sounds like: there’s only one print made of that image. It’s a unique object, not part of any edition. Thunk of a classic oil painting - there is only one painting like that. Often this term overlaps with "Monoprint" depending on how it was made.

• Monoprint
  A monoprint is made using a repeatable matrix (like an etched plate, block, or screen), but only printed once with intentional variation - say by adding hand-inked textures, different inking techniques, or mixing processes. The plate/image stays the same but each print is unique.

• Monotype
  A monotype is made without any repeatable matrix. The image is created directly on a smooth surface like glass or metal and transferred to paper using a press. Because most of the ink comes off on the first pull, you usually only get one strong print (and maybe a faint "ghost print"). It’s essentially painting or drawing transferred by printing fully unique.

• Test or Trial Print (TP)
  A test print is usually made during the technical setup process used to check things like color, contrast, registration, or plate alignment before the actual editioning begins. In digital printing this could be tests of various papers or printer settings. These prints aren’t originally intended for sale, but some artists choose to release them later as unique pieces, often marked “Test Print” or “TP.” They often carry visible artifacts, color shifts, or cropping, which can make them interesting in their own right. Trial Print is very similar to a test print, but often a bit more intentional, closer to the final print. Think of it as part of the creative process before committing to a final edition.

  Note that some test and trial prints that are significantly off - like having a strong color cast, incorrect aspect ratio, or other noticeable flaws might be labeled as Reject or B-Grade. This isn’t a formal edition type but more of a grading used when a print doesn’t meet archival standards for its intended tier. That could mean a minor printing defect, color cast, paper flaw, scratches or fingerprints. These are usually marked clearly and priced lower. Still, some collectors are drawn to B-quality prints because of their random imperfections as one-of-a-kind item.

Type 2: Limited Edition

Limited Edition is a print run that’s capped at a specific number—like 25, 50, or 100 copies. Each is numbered and often signed by the artist or the printer. Once all copies are sold, no more can be produced in that edition. This built-in scarcity makes the prints more collectible and valuable. Buyers are paying for something rare and of high or even unique quality. Compared to one-off prints, limited editions involve more planning around production and packaging and can often be of higher production quality. They’re typically treated like a small product release, with everything set up from the start to produce only 5, 10, or 50 high-quality copies. This often includes a deliberate choice of rare or expensive materials to maximize the visual impact of the work.

Variations within limited editions.

A limited edition usually includes more prints than the number stated in the main edition, it’s important for collectors to be aware that these extra copies exist. For example, if an edition is listed as 15, there might be a few additional prints made outside of that run. Two might be kept by the photographer, one could go to the printer, publisher, sponsor, or even the model, and another might be held in the photographer’s archive. The point is that only the 15 numbered prints are for sale. The extra copies exist, but they are typically not on the market and if they are sold later, it’s usually a rare opportunity . All copies including artist’s proofs, printer’s proofs, archive copies, or any others—should be clearly listed in the Certificate of Authenticity (COA). Here are the main types you should be aware about:

• Artist’s Proof (AP)
  These are extra prints outside the numbered edition, traditionally kept by the artist. Marked "AP" and usually limited (capped at around 10% of the main edition). Sometimes these are priced higher when they hit the market due to their perceived rarity.

• Printer’s Proof (PP)
  Given to the printer or studio that helped produce the work. Usually limited to just 1 copy, marked as PP.

• Publisher’s Proof
  Reserved for the publisher who financed or supported the edition. Similar to AP or PP in concept, but can still add one more addtional copy.

• Bon à Tirer (BAT)
  Literally "good to print" in French. This is the final approved proof that all other prints in the edition are meant to match. It’s a unique proof and often kept by the printer or artist.

• Hors Commerce (HC)
  Means "not for sale" in French. These are proofs made for exhibitions, archives, or promotional use, marked HC. They may still be sold later, depending on the artist’s or publisher’s policies.

• Archive Copy
  A print held back for documentation, studio records, or institutional archiving. Usually not for sale, but for the future reference.

Limited Edition: Edition Variable (EV)

There is an important version of limited edition that collectors should know about. An Edition Variable (EV) is a set of prints that belong to the same edition but are intentionally varied. EV usually refers to handmade prints rather than digital prints, hence the artist starts with a repeatable base—like a plate, screen, or block—but changes something in each print. This variable could be the paper, color, inking method, added hand work, or layering. A common example is printing the same image on different types of paper: one on bright white, another on off-white, and a third on cream. The result is a group of prints that are clearly related, but no two are exactly alike due to the differences in paper. Artists often use EV when they want to explore a theme through variation or add a layer of uniqueness to each print without going full monoprint.

Each EV print is still numbered, just like a normal limited edition, but usually marked something like EV 3/10 to show it’s the third unique variation out of ten. It tells collectors: this is part of a series, but also one-of-a-kind. Think of Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe screenprints—the image stays the same, but each print is slightly different. Changes in color, registration, and ink application make every piece unique, even though they all come from the same base image.

Type 3: Open Edition

An open edition means there’s no fixed limit on how many prints can be produced. The artist can keep printing the work indefinitely. They’re ideal for affordable, wide distribution, essentially always available, on-demand prints. These prints often blur the line between fine art and merchandise and most prints in the world fall into this category. Many artists use open edition to reach a broader audience before producing a full edition.

Since open editions can be printed over long periods, slight differences may appear between early and later prints—such as changes in paper type, printing process, or color accuracy. For this reason, many open editions use widely available media that are likely to remain accessible for 10–15 years, such as professional glossy, semi-glossy, and matte papers.

In addition, most open editions are unsigned and don’t include full documentation or a certificate of authenticity. These prints are usually priced lower because they’re not scarce, untraceable, and typically use lower quality materials to cut costs and achieve consistency.

Conclusion

To summarize, edition types are like an accounting system for the artwork. They keep track of how many prints exist, what kind they are (AP, PP, etc.), and where each one fits. The numbers in an edition carry meaning: they tell a story about process, rarity, authorship, and intention. Collectors, curators, and artists rely on this “accounting” to understand value, trace authenticity, and place the work within the artist’s larger body of work. Knowing how to read those details will help you understand the full picture - not just the image, but the history and thinking behind it’s creation.

What is a Limited Edition?

Limited edition prints usually cost more than open editions. But why is that? What really sets them apart from just “high-quality” art? Is it all just a marketing trick, or is there something real? If there is real value, then what are the assumptions, expectations, and ideas behind the whole concept of a limited edition that make people willing to pay a premium? Great questions! Let’s dig in.

1.What Does "Limited Edition" Really Mean?

It’s easy to assume that putting the word “limited” on a print automatically makes it more special or valuable. But that’s not how it works, at least not if the artist takes their work and reputation seriously. The word limited often gets used interchangeably with exclusive or premium, but those ideas aren’t necessarily linked.

In fact, most things in life are limited without being labeled that way, or being exclusive at all. For example, a 2025 car model, an iPhone 16, or a pair of Nike Air Max sneakers will all disappear from shelves eventually. No one calls them limited editions, yet in a practical sense - they are. Still, they’re not premium or rare. Their “limited” nature has nothing to do with quality.

So in the world of art, what does limited edition print actually mean? Let’s break it down.

Sometimes it’s easier to explain something with a simple example. Think of Sunday pancakes. I don’t know what your childhood was like, but chances are Saturday or Sunday was a pancake day. These were handmade. The batter was mixed by eye, maybe a splash too much milk, or a missing egg. It didn’t matter! There was enough for 13 to 15 pancakes. One always got ruined—burned, torn, or sacrificed to test the pan—so 12 made it to the table. That was the batch. That was the limited edition of 12 pancakes.

Each pancake was slightly different—shaped by the heat of the stove, the slant of the wrist, the mood in the kitchen. But they clearly belonged together. One batch, one moment. And when they were gone, they were gone. Next weekend would be different. New batter, new pace, new energy. That’s how limited editions work.

Now compare that to pancakes from a hotel breakfast buffet. These made by machines, identical every time. Same shape. Same texture. Same taste. Whether you’re in Stockholm or Singapore you get the same product. Efficient, consistent, soulless. Designed to resemble pancakes, but far from the best pancakes. That’s your open edition.

And that’s the difference. It’s not just about what was made—it’s about how, and why. Limited editions carry the mark of the moment, the hand that made them, and the intention behind them. They’re not just products. They’re small rituals, made visible. And when you hold one, you’re holding something that can’t happen again.

Back to art: an edition is a set of prints made under the same conditions—same image, same paper, same size, same crop, same finishing. It’s a group of artworks that are intentionally consistent, produced as one body of work, born from a single creative moment.

Here’s how that might look in practice. An artist starts by experimenting—trying different papers, tweaking the image, adjusting the crop. Eventually, they arrive at a version that feels right. At that point, they might print 15 identical copies on the paper they’ve chosen. That’s the edition.

But a week later, with a different mindset, new materials, or simply a change in taste, that same artist might decide to print the image again. And chances are, it will come out differently—different paper, different decisions, different feel. If the result is distinct enough, it becomes a new edition.

Open editions, on the other hand, are produced on demand. One print might be made in January, the next in May. The materials can change - inks might shift, paper quality might vary. Open editions can often be outsourced to print labs, and while the image stays the same, the consistency and personal involvement may not. Open editions aren’t about true art - they’re about availability and distribution.

To be clear, a one-off artwworks isn’t an edition—it’s a single work, made once. An edition is about controlled repetition. The defining feature is that multiple identical, or near-identical, copies are made on purpose, as part of a limited, deliberate series.

2. What Makes an Edition “Limited”?

An open edition has no cap on how many prints can be made. The image can be printed and reprinted for as long as there’s demand. As long as people want it, it stays in production. This keeps the price lower and makes the artwork more accessible to a wider audience.

Think of an iPhone as an example. Each new model has a production limit, but you’re never told exactly how many units will be made. That number can shift based on sales, it’s flexible, market-driven. But that’s not how true limited editions work. With a limited edition, there’s a hard ceiling. The number is fixed and clearly stated from the beginning: 15, 50, 100 copies. That’s it. No reprints, no surprises. When it’s sold out, it’s gone.

But here’s the important part: limited doesn’t always mean it’s physically impossible to do again. Most of the time, it just means the artist has made a decision not to repeat it. It’s a choice, and it’s a promise. Sometimes that decision is driven by business, sometimes by access to materials, and sometimes by the medium itself, where repeating the process just isn’t practical or even possible.

The key is understanding why the edition is limited. Is it limited by choice? By circumstance? By nature of the process?

Let’s break down the types of limitations that actually matter.

A.Limited by Choice — The Artist’s Promise

The most common form of limitation is the artist simply saying, “I won’t do this print again.” That’s what gives a limited edition its meaning. It’s limited by choice. But what exactly does this mean?Usually, an edition is defined by a combination of factors:

• The image

• The crop or aspect ratio

• Image size/print size

• The paper type

• Th paper tone or color

• Finishing choices (like matting or framing)

So yes, the same image might appear again. But if it's printed on different paper, cropped in a new way, or presented at a new size, it becomes a new edition.

But how different is different enough? That’s where the artist’s intent—and honesty—come in. It’s a bit like comparing an iPhone to an iPhone Pro. At a glance, they look almost the same. But under the hood, they’re made for different users, with different expectations.

It’s the same with print editions. Sometimes, a print that looks identical at first glance might be made on a different paper—and that change alone can justify a new edition. Because for some collectors, the type of paper isn’t just a technical detail—it’s central to the value of the work.

Take, for example, a print made on standard wood-pulp paper that may yellow within a decade. That’s not the same as a print on museum-grade cotton paper designed to last a century. They might look similar today, but they serve different purposes and speak to different kinds of collectors.

Even subtler differences like natural white versus high white paper can matter. For a collector whose entire collection is on natural white, a high white print might feel out of place.

B. Limited by Availability — Material Scarcity

Sometimes an edition is limited by the materials themselves. An artist might have a few packs of a discontinued fine-art paper that is hard to find again. Once it's gone, it’s truly gone - they can’t reprint the edition even if they wanted to.

This kind of limitation is physical, not just conceptual. It adds value to the edition because it creates a built-in impossibility of exact repetition. The same goes for other materials: maybe a unique blend of pigments or inks that the artist mixed in the moment and can’t replicate. When the materials are limited, the results are too.

C. Limited by Medium — Technical Limits of the Process

Some printing methods naturally come with built-in limitations. The physical tools involved can only go so far before quality degrades or the setup has to be replaced. This creates editions that are “limited by nature” of the process.

• Photogravure: The metal plate used to press the image wears down after 15 to 30 impressions. Once it’s no longer sharp enough, a new plate must be made by hand. And because each plate is slightly different, each new run becomes its own edition—even if the image and everything else stays the same.

• Film negatives: In the analog darkroom, some photographers used to limit editions by destroying the negative after printing. But this isn’t a foolproof method. There might be near-identical frames from the same roll, or someone could create a new negative from a finished print. So even this form of "destruction" has its limits.

• Darkroom prints and many alternative processes are often limited editions by default. The chemistry involved is a bit like pancake batter: mixed by hand, sensitive to the environment, and nearly impossible to replicate exactly. Temperature, timing, paper batch, even the mood or rhythm of the process - all of it affects the outcome. So while an artist might try to make a second print of the same negative six months later, it’s unlikely to be identical. That’s why many darkroom and alternative prints are treated as unique or editioned in very small numbers. Not because the artist wants to create scarcity - but because the process itself is inherently unrepeatable.

• Screenprinting: Similar to photogravure, screenprinting relies on physical tools - in this case, a mesh screen that can only be used so many times before losing precision. After a certain number of prints, the screen degrades or clogs, and re-creating it won’t produce an exact match.

D. Limited by Agreement — Licensing Restrictions

In some cases, the limitation isn’t creative or material—it’s contractual. The artist might only be licensed to produce a specific number of prints, say 15, of a particular image. Once those are sold, that edition is closed unless a new agreement is negotiated. If the work is re-released, it would have to differ in some way: new size, new paper, new format. The license may limit not just quantity, but also how the work can be reproduced. This is especially common when the artist doesn’t fully own the image—for example, in commissioned projects, collaborations, or when working with historical archives.

3.Numbering and Signatures

For an edition to be truly limited, it needs to clearly state the maximum number of copies that will ever be produced. A proper limited edition is usually both numbered and signed. For example:
12/50 means this is the 12th print in a total edition of 50.

You might also come across these markings:

• A.P. = Artist’s Proof – usually kept by the artist or sold at a premium

• P.P. = Printer’s Proof – made for the printer involved in the process

• B.A.T. = Bon à tirer – the final approved proof before the edition is printed

These proofs typically aren’t part of the main edition offered for sale, but it’s still important to be aware of them. If an edition is marketed as “50 prints,” it matters whether that means 50 total or 50 plus another 10 artist/printer proofs. Transparency about these extras shows respect for collectors and reinforces the intent behind calling something a limited edition in the first place.

There are many ways to sign an artwork, but the most common setup is: edition number, title, and signature. This is usually placed just below the image on the white margin of the paper, or sometimes on top of a passepartout, below the image. The layout typically goes like this:

Left: Edition number (3/25) Center: Title (often in quotes). Right: Artist’s signature (sometimes date)

There are plenty of variations. Some artists use full names, others prefer initials. Some sign on the back to avoid distracting from the image. The choice of pencil or ink often depends on the paper and medium and is partly tradition, partly personal choice.

4. Certificate of Authenticity

A serious edition will often include a Certificate Of Authenticity (COA). This document records which edition the print belongs to, what materials were used, when it was printed, and other relevant production details. It is a document that marks the edition’s authenticity, its origin, and its exclusivity.

Think of COA is both a recipe and a passport. In the pancake example, COA is the nutritional label—it lists the key ingredients and confirms what was made and how. But it also acts like a passport: it’s part of the print’s identity, and it should follow it wherever it goes. Without it, a print becomes just an image. With it, it becomes a traceable, authored work.

The number of available copies is critical to the value and integrity of a limited edition. Without clear documentation, an edition labeled “50” could mean very different things.

• 50 identical prints (traditional limited edition)

• 50 identical prints + 20 unlisted artist’s proofs

• 50 unique variations (Edition Variable, or EV)

• 10 variations in 5 colorways (e.g. 5 red, 5 blue, etc.)

• Or a mix—like 40 standard prints and 10 in a special finish

This is why transparency is essential. A well-documented COA should explain:

• What defines the edition and how many prints exist

• Whether prints are identical or variable

• If variable, how—by color, crop, size, or technique

• Whether the variation is random or structured (e.g. 10 per colorway)

• Whether any additional prints exist outside the numbered edition (A.P., P.P., B.A.T., etc.)

Collectors should expect this information in the COA or accompanying documentation.

Edition Variations

Sometimes an artist decides to release multiple formats of the same image within a single edition. For example, an edition of 20 might include:
10 prints in size A, 5 in size B, 3 in size C, and 2 in size D.

That’s still one edition—just spread across different formats. The unifying element is the image itself, while the materials, size, or presentation vary. Think of it like the pancake example: you can make small ones, big ones, even square ones, but they all come from the same batch of mix.

Offering variations like this can make the work accessible to different types of collectors. Some may want a large centerpiece; others might prefer a smaller, more affordable format. But even with these variations, the total edition size should be fixed, transparent, and well documented. Collectors know exactly what exists and how many versions are out there.

Another kind of variation is called an Edition Variable (EV). In an EV edition, each print is intentionally different in some visible way, even though all prints come from the same base image or plate. The variations might include changes in color, paper type, inking, cropping, or even hand-finishing. The artist may alter each print during production, making every piece one-of-a-kind—yet still part of a defined, cohesive edition.

An EV edition embraces difference as part of one conceptual theme. In our pancake example, an EV—Edition Variation—is like changing the filling: cherry jam, strawberry, meat, cheese, mushrooms. The pancakes are clearly related, made from the same batter, but each one is intentionally different. The point isn’t to make them the same—it’s to explore variation within a shared base.

In art, one print might have a bold background, another might be more muted. Some may feature subtle ink shifts or hand-applied details that give each piece its own personality. It’s a limited edition, but with intentional uniqueness built into every copy. If a label says EV 1/10, that means it’s the first of ten individually varied prints.

A famous real life example is Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe silkscreen prints. Each work in the series starts from the same photographic image of Monroe, but Warhol deliberately varied the colors, backgrounds, ink application, and registration. The result: a group of prints that are visually connected, yet distinctly different. Some are bright and clean, others off-register or more chaotic. Warhol used the mechanical process of silkscreen printing not to create perfect copies, but to highlight imperfection, chance, and variation.

5.Why Limited Editions Matter

Limited edition isn’t just about printing fewer copies, stamping the word “Limited” on them, and charging triple. For the artist, a limited edition is the highest form of commitment. When done right, it’s a statement. A moment that won’t be repeated. A level of attention and care that may never come together in quite the same way again.

A true edition is something the artist has developed and stood behind fully and personally. It’s a declaration of what they believe is worth preserving in the highest possible quality. It carries their hand, their mind, their decisions. It’s authored. It’s signed. It’s limited.

A limited edition is also a process that an artist goes through. Testing papers, adjusting tones, refining every detail—until everything feels exactly right. So much thought goes in that only a few people might truly understand the effort. And that’s the point. Because owning a limited edition is more than owning an image. It’s about forming a connection—with the artist, with their process, with a moment of intention made visible. The real value isn’t just in how few copies exist. It’s in how much care went into every single one.

That’s what sets a limited edition apart. It’s a record of artistic judgment. The scarcity is the message. When something is limited, people tend to slow down. They take it seriously. They pause. And that’s what serious art is about—less about consumption, more about contemplation and absorption.

If photography is a record of time, then a limited edition is a record of the photographer. A snapshot of their thinking, their taste, their process. What they believed was worth sharing with the world. Worth signing their name to. It captures a decision—a moment of authorship anchored in a specific point in time.

And as a collector, you might be one of only 10, or maybe 15, who will ever own that exact work in that exact form. Remember - a limited edition isn’t made for everyone. That’s what gives it value—when you feel it, and you just know you absolutely have to have it.

The Art of Framing Art

Framing is what separates a poster from a true work of art. Today, we frame more things than ever - photos, paintings, certificates, and sports jerseys, but the fundamental principles of framing remain unchanged. Framing can be traced back to ancient Egypt, where it was used in religious and ceremonial contexts. It remained primarily a religious artifact (think iconography) up until around 1200. Fast forward just 200-300 years, and framing became primarily associated with paintings and drawings. However, there were no standardized sizes for artwork, meaning each piece required a custom-made frame. Framing was both an art form and a profession, as well as a practical necessity. Today, we have a much wider range of materials to create frames from, and frame sizes have become more standardized. Despite the industrialization of framing, it remains an art form, and the right frame can either elevate or diminish the impact of your artwork. Let’s take a closer look at what framing is and why it’s so important.

Framing enhances the visual impact of artwork while providing structural stability and protection. A well-chosen frame elevates the piece and helps it either blend seamlessly into its surroundings or stand out. The art of framing lies in finding the right balance between choosing a frame that protects and enhances the artwork while also complementing the space in which it’s displayed. In this way, framing allows us to personalize the art we bring into our homes. Some collectors prefer to use the same framing style for all their artwork, creating a uniform and formal presentation that doesn’t distract from the pieces themselves—think of gallery walls with consistent frames. Others embrace variety, allowing for a visual dialogue between each frame and its artwork—like in museums, where each piece often has a custom-made frame that reflects its character. There’s no single right way to frame art—but there are certainly many ways to do it poorly. As with many things in life, randomness and impulse rarely lead to the best results. A thoughtful approach or guiding strategy can go a long way toward making your framing choices feel intentional and cohesive.

Short Guide to Choosing the Best Frame

There is a staggering variety of frames available, ranging from inexpensive plastic models to luxurious options crafted by top jewelry brands. This isn't meant to be a comprehensive guide on all of them, but rather a starting point to help you make informed decisions. For more in-depth information, there are tutorials, magazines, books, and a wealth of infographics online that can further assist in choosing the right frame for your art. What we've done is put together the 8 key considerations for choosing the right frame. Let’s begin!

1.Frame Size

Frames come in many sizes, but most follow standardized formats—either ISO sizes (like A4 or A3), traditional photographic dimensions from the analog film era, or your country’s local standards (like ANSI). Custom-sized frames are also an option for uniquely sized artwork, though these are typically made to order.

If you’re buying unframed art, finding the right frame is usually straightforward. When the artwork is mounted in a passepartout (mat), the outer dimensions of the mat determine the frame size you’ll need. For example, an A4 print mounted in an A3 passepartout will require an A3 frame. That’s really all there is to frame sizes—simple and easy process. Once you’ve determined the frame size, the next step is choosing the color and material that best complement your artwork and space.

2. Frame Material

Frames are commonly made from three basic materials: plastic, wood, and metal. Each has its own pros and cons and it is worth understand the choice here.

Plastic frames are often the go-to choice for those seeking a budget-friendly and lightweight framing solution. They come in a variety of colors and finishes, offering versatility while replicating the appearance of more expensive materials like wood or metal. This makes them an attractive option for those looking for style at a lower cost. Plastic frames are particularly useful for larger prints or artworks where the weight of the frame might otherwise be a concern.

Additionally, plastic frames are resistant to certain environmental factors, meaning they won’t warp, swell, or crack due to humidity or temperature fluctuations. This durability makes them an excellent choice for areas with changing climates. Another exciting advantage of plastic frames is the potential for 3D printing—with advanced technology, frames can now be printed in creative and custom designs that are both durable and unique.

On the downside, cheaper plastic frames are more prone to cracking, scratching, and discoloration over time, which can detract from their overall aesthetic. To avoid this, it’s essential to opt for higher-quality, premium plastic frames that offer better durability and a more refined look. Avoid flimsy, low-quality frames that may compromise the visual impact of your artwork.

Wood frames add a timeless, natural warmth to artwork that no other material can replicate. The rich textures and grains of wood complement a wide range of art styles, from traditional to contemporary. Whether it’s a classic oak or a luxurious walnut, wood enhances the character of your piece, giving it a more organic, bespoke feel. Its tactile quality adds depth and warmth, making the artwork feel more intimate and connected to its surroundings.

Beyond aesthetics, wood is a renewable resource. Many manufacturers now offer frames made from reclaimed or responsibly harvested wood, making it a more sustainable and environmentally conscious choice. Wood frames are also commonly associated with luxury and craftsmanship, often used to elevate the perceived value of a piece—ideal for framing valuable works or creating a refined, upscale presentation.

One of wood’s greatest strengths is its versatility. It can be stained, painted, or left in its natural state to match almost any interior. A wide variety of finishes and styles are available, from rustic to modern. Skilled framers can also create fully custom wood frames tailored to your exact size and design preferences, offering endless creative potential.

In terms of durability, high-quality wood frames can last for decades when properly maintained. Certain hardwoods, such as oak and cherry, are particularly long-lasting and resistant to wear. Wood’s natural ability to "breathe" also helps regulate humidity, which can benefit the longevity of your artwork in environments with fluctuating climates.

However, wood does have its drawbacks—most notably, its weight. Unlike plastic or metal, wood cannot be made as thin and strong, so frames tend to be thicker and heavier. While this isn’t an issue for smaller pieces, larger artworks may require more robust wall mounting or support to ensure they remain safely in place.

Metal frames offer a minimalist, modern aesthetic combined with a strong yet lightweight structure, making them a popular choice for contemporary and industrial-style interiors. Typically crafted from aluminum, metal frames feature a cool, clean-lined appearance that pairs beautifully with photography, graphic art, and modern prints. At the same time, they can create a bold contrast when used with more traditional or classic works, adding visual interest through juxtaposition.

A key advantage of metal frames is their precision and uniformity. Because they are machine-manufactured, they provide a clean, exact finish—perfect for those seeking a polished, professional presentation. This makes them especially well-suited for gallery walls, commercial displays, or exhibition spaces where consistency and sleekness are important.

Another major strength is their exceptional strength-to-weight ratio. Metal frames are generally thinner and lighter than wood, yet offer excellent structural integrity. This makes them ideal for large artworks, reducing overall weight while maintaining stability. Metal is also highly resistant to environmental changes—it won't warp, expand, or contract due to humidity or temperature fluctuations. As a result, metal frames offer reliable, long-term protection for your artwork, especially in challenging environments.

However, metal frames do have their drawbacks. They can feel colder or less personal than wood, and may not blend as naturally with interiors that emphasize warmth, texture, or traditional design. Additionally, although metal is durable, very thin or oversized metal frames can be more susceptible to dents if not handled carefully.

Other materials. There are also frames made from more unusual or luxurious materials—leather, glass, stone, carbon fiber, and even precious metals like silver or gold. These frames can be visually striking and often serve as statement pieces. However, they tend to be expensive and stylistically challenging to find artwork that truly harmonizes with them. They often overshadow the very artwork they are meant to present, drawing attention away from the image instead of enhancing it.

3. Frame Color

Frame material and frame color are two of the most important elements in the overall presentation of an artwork. While material affects weight, texture, and structure, color directly influences how the artwork is perceived. Choosing the right frame color is a creative decision—one that can subtly support the art or make a bold statement that changes how it's experienced.

The most commonly used frame colors are black, white, and silver/metallic.

• Black frames provide a strong, defined edge that enhances contrast and draws attention to the artwork. They are particularly effective with photographs, graphic art, and pieces that benefit from visual separation from the wall.

• White frames offer a softer, more neutral border, ideal for lighter-toned artwork or minimalist settings where the frame should quietly support without dominating.

• Silver and metallic finishes bring a sleek, contemporary feel, often used with abstract or modern works to add a touch of sophistication and edge.

However, frame colors are by no means limited to these three. Frames can be found in virtually any shade or finish—from natural wood tones and warm earth hues to vibrant, saturated colors and weathered, distressed looks. A well-chosen frame color can enhance the artwork's palette, reflect the emotional tone of the piece, or tie into the room’s overall design.

A carefully selected color helps define the mood, focus, and relationship between the artwork and its environment, making it a key element in the storytelling power of presentation.

4.Frame Thickness

A thick frame (left) typically accommodates artwork with a deeper passepartout, often 3mm or more, to fit museum-quality matting. Thinner frames, on the other hand, are usually limited to single prints or artwork with a total depth of just 1–2mm.

Thickness refers to the front-facing width of the frame—the visible edge that borders the artwork—not how deep the frame extends from the wall.

Frame thickness plays a significant role in the visual balance between the artwork and its frame:

• Thin frames (6–10mm) offer a subtle, minimalist appearance. They draw minimal attention to themselves and are often chosen for modern interiors or artworks that benefit from a clean, almost invisible border. These are typically metal frames and are ideal for smaller prints or lightweight designs.

• Thick frames (18–24mm or more) have a stronger visual presence and can become an integral part of the presentation. They add a sense of formality or importance to the piece and are often selected when the frame is intended to act as an extension of the artwork itself.

A wider frame also helps visually separate the artwork from the wall, which is especially useful when the wall color closely matches tones in the artwork.

The key is proportion. For example, an 8mm frame may work well for a 30×40 cm print, but it will likely look too thin and fragile for a larger 70×100 cm piece. Thin frames can appear overwhelmed by large-format artwork, making the entire presentation feel unbalanced.

Many frame manufacturers offer the same frame design in multiple thickness options, allowing you to match style with proper scale.  Always consider both the dimensions of the artwork and the overall aesthetic you're aiming for when choosing frame thickness.

A simple way to maintain visual balance across different artwork sizes is to scale the frame thickness proportionally. If a 10mm thick frame looks right on a 30×40 cm print, it’s likely because that frame width represents about 3–5% of the shorter side of the print. To preserve that same visual balance on a larger piece, you can scale the frame width by the same percentage.

Example:

• A 10mm frame on a 30×40 cm print means the frame width is roughly:

• 10mm ÷ 300mm = ~3.3% of the short side (30 cm)

• For a 70×100 cm print:

• 3.3% of 700mm = ~24mm

So yes, if you want the same visual effect on the 70×100 print as the 10mm frame on the 30×40, you’d likely want a frame in the 22-26mm range, depending on how bold or subtle you want the look.

5. Frame Depth

Depth refers to the internal space inside the frame—specifically, how much material it can hold between the front glazing (glass or acrylic) and the back panel. This dimension is essential when framing artworks that require more than just a flat display.

Deeper frames are necessary for fine art prints with a passepartout (mat board).

These frames allow for greater depth, such as fine art prints with both a museum quality mat and archival backing. A deeper profile also adds a sense of dimensionality and sophistication, giving the piece a more gallery-like or museum-grade appearance.

In contrast, shallow frames are designed for flat, single-layer items such as: posters, single photo prints and Certificates or documents. These frames are typically more affordable and minimalist. While perfect for simpler presentations, they may be limiting if you’re working with premium or conservation-grade artwork.

Most basic frames can accommodate artwork 1–2mm thick, which is suitable for everyday prints and basic passepartout. However, higher-quality or professionally mounted art—especially museum quality pieces—often includes both a front and backing passepartout, resulting in a total thickness of 4–6mm or more. In such cases, you’ll need frames with either:

• A deeper rabbet (the internal recess that holds the art stack), or

• Flexible inserts or spacers that can adapt to thicker presentations.

When in doubt, check the frame’s maximum insert depth before purchasing—especially if you plan to include matting or protective layers.
When choosing a frame, ensure both the thickness matches your aesthetic goals, and the depth matches the technical needs of what you're framing. A beautifully thick frame with insufficient depth won't accommodate a mat properly, while a deep frame with an overly thin profile might look visually off-balance.

6. Insert Type

The top frame uses metal pins used to secure the backplate of a frame. These pins are not convenient to open repeatedly and can break after a few uses. In contrast, the bottom frame features a flexible locking mechanism. Not only is it much easier to open, by simply press and turn it sideways, but it also accommodates thicker passepartouts, offering greater versatility.

Frames can be categorized by how the artwork is inserted and replaced. This distinction affects not only convenience but also the long-term care and purpose of the frame.

I. Multi-Use Frames

These frames are designed for easy opening and frequent image changes. They typically feature flexible tabs, clips, or snap-in backs that allow users to swap out artwork without damaging the frame or needing tools.

• Ideal for collectors who like to rotate their displays seasonally or thematically

• Common in galleries, retail spaces, and exhibitions where displays are updated regularly

• Often used with posters, prints, or photography that isn’t fragile or archival

Multi-use frames prioritize accessibility and convenience—perfect for dynamic spaces or casual displays.

II. Permanent Frames

Permanent frames are designed for long-term or archival display. They usually require tools to open and close, and may even be sealed for conservation purposes.

• Best for high-value, delicate, or archival-quality artwork

• Often used in museums, private collections, and professional settings where artwork is not intended to be disturbed

• Provide greater protection from environmental factors, dust, and handling

While it is still possible to replace the image in a permanent frame, the process is more involved and may require professional help to avoid damage.

If you're just starting out with framing, it's a good idea to begin with multi-use frames. These frames are more flexible—they can accommodate a wider range of artwork types and sizes.

Once you've developed a more curated or permanent collection, you can always move on to archival or permanent framing solutions for your most valuable pieces.

7. Glazing Options

The choice between glass and acrylic as glazing materials directly impacts both the presentation and long-term preservation of your artwork. Each material offers distinct advantages and comes with various protective coating options that enhance durability, visibility, and protection from environmental damage.

Glass is a traditional and premium glazing option known for its exceptional clarity, which enhances the sharpness and vibrancy of colors in artwork. It provides a crystal-clear finish that allows the true essence of the piece to shine through, making it a popular choice for high-quality frames, especially in fine art or photography. Glass also offers excellent protection against dust, dirt, and environmental factors while adding a refined, premium feel to the overall presentation. Available in various types, (green, white, and floating glass), UV-protective glass, and anti-reflective options, it caters to both aesthetic and preservation needs. However, its heavier weight and susceptibility to breakage yet tempered glass offers a more durable alternative.  It’s heat-treated to increase its strength and is less likely to break upon impact compared to regular glass.

Glass - Summary:

• Clarity & Appearance: Offers superior visual clarity and a premium, high-end appearance. It enhances the artwork's sharpness and color fidelity.

• Protection: Available in various types including standard, UV-protective, and anti-reflective glass (Artglass).

• Limitations: Heavier and more fragile than acrylic, making it less ideal for large frames or environments where safety and durability are priorities.

Best for:

• Smaller frames

• Permanent or luxury installations

• Low-traffic areas

In many premium frames, the glass is the primary factor that drives up the cost. Premium options, such as museum-grade or UV-protective glass, are often used to enhance both the artwork’s presentation and its long-term preservation. Often, a similar frame can be purchased much more affordably with standard glass or no glass at all.

Acrylic, often referred to as Plexiglass, is a lightweight and shatter-resistant alternative to traditional glass, making it an ideal choice for larger frames or environments where safety and durability are important. Acrylic provides a clear, polished appearance similar to glass but is virtually unbreakable, making it safe for both artwork and people around it. Similar to glass, it can also be treated with a range of protective coatings, such as UV-blocking layers or anti-reflective finishes, which help preserve the artwork and reduce glare. However, acrylic can be more susceptible to scratching, though scratch-resistant coatings can mitigate this issue. Due to its lower weight, acrylic is often chosen for larger pieces or when the ease of handling and transportation is a concern. Acrylic comes in varying depths depending on the quality and price of the frame. Budget frames often feature a thin acrylic sheet, which may be prone to warping or scratching. In contrast, higher-end frames typically use acrylic that ranges from 1mm to 3mm in thickness, offering increased durability, rigidity, and better overall protection for your artwork.

Lightweight & Durable: Much lighter than glass and highly resistant to shattering, making it a practical choice for larger frames or public/high-traffic areas.

• Scratch Sensitivity: More prone to scratching than glass, though scratch-resistant coatings are available on higher-end options.

• Cost-Effective: Standard acrylic is typically less expensive and easier to handle during shipping or installation.

Best for:

• Large artworks

• Children’s rooms or busy spaces

• Framing that needs to be lightweight or transportable

Acrylic is a far better choice for shipping. If you're purchasing a frame online, acrylic is the safer option. Frames with glass are more prone to damage during transit, and even if you receive a replacement, the delay can be frustrating.

Protective Coatings & Features

Whether you choose glass or acrylic, the following features can greatly enhance both protection and visual quality:

• UV Protection: Prevents fading and deterioration caused by ultraviolet rays. Essential for archival-quality art or pieces displayed in sunlight-prone areas.

• Anti-Reflective Coating: Minimizes glare and reflections, improving visibility in bright spaces and enhancing the artwork’s presence. Often referred to as museum glass or museum acrylic.

• Scratch-Resistant Coating (Acrylic): Increases the surface durability of acrylic, making it more suitable for environments where the glazing might be cleaned or handled frequently.

8. Style and Aesthetics

The final consideration is the style and overall aesthetic of the frame—this is where all the practical decisions come together to support the visual impact. At this stage, it’s about choosing a style that suits both your artwork and your space. The right choice will depend on both the character of your artwork and the style of your interior. Matching the artwork with the frame—and the frame with your interior—is where the true art of framing lies. Nevertheless, there are some guiding principles you can follow to make the process easier and more intentional.

For modern, industrial, or Scandinavian interiors, where clean lines and simplicity are key, smooth metal or thin black wood frames are a natural fit.
Villas, bohemian, or organic spaces pair beautifully with natural wood frames that showcase organic grain and texture.
Classic, maximalist, or vintage-inspired interiors often call for gold-leaf frames or heavily carved baroque-style designs that add richness and historical character.
And in glamorous, luxurious, or eclectic settings, glossy, mirrored, or metallic frames can introduce an elegant, eye-catching finish.

When choosing a manufacturer, start by exploring local producers—they often provide the best variety and pricing options. A visit to your local framing store will typically showcase the ready-to-hang frames they offer. On an international level, specialized framing brands like Nielsen, Larson-Juhl, DEHA, and Halbe offer a wide range of frames, from small to oversized, combining premium materials with expert craftsmanship. High-end designer frames, often from fashion and jewelry houses like Ralph Lauren, Versace, or Tiffany & Co., are more exclusive, usually focused on tabletop sizes and not found in traditional framing stores. Consumer brands such as IKEA, H&M Home, and ZARA Home offer mid-range frames in various sizes, designed to complement their unique interior aesthetics, and these too are typically unavailable in local framing shops.

Buying tips

Lastly, because the right frame provides aesthetics, functionality, and protection for your art, it’s a smart idea to take your art to a professional framer for advice. While you’re not obliged to follow their recommendations, you might find that their expertise leads you to a frame better suited to your artwork than one you might choose yourself. There are also specialized framing solutions designed for all-weather protection, as well as frames that are fire-resistant or theft-proof - that you will not find in traditional stores.

In addition, here are some general guidelines to keep in mind:

•     30-50% Rule. Plan to spend about 30–50% of the price you paid for the print on the frame. For instance, a $100 print pairs well with a $30–50 frame, while a $300 print would suit a $100–150 frame. Higher-quality frames not only provide superior protection but also elevate the presentation of the artwork, making it worth investing more when framing true art prints. A well-chosen frame complements the value and importance of the piece, ensuring it is preserved and displayed beautifully.

• Skip the Glass. Glass is often the most expensive component of a frame. If you’re on a tight budget and an identical frame is available with either glass or acrylic glazing, consider choosing the acrylic option. Acrylic is lighter, more affordable, and still offers decent protection. Plus, you can always upgrade to premium glass later if needed, making it a practical choice for budget-conscious framing.

• Buy in Pairs. Consider purchasing two identical frames. A matching pair creates visual coherence, adding to a harmonious and polished look in your space. This is why galleries and museums often use identical frames—it establishes a consistent and professional style. Even if you don’t have an immediate use for the second frame, you’ll likely find something to display in it soon enough. The alternative can be worse. Commercial frames are often like car models—regularly replaced by new designs and discontinued after a short time. If you wait too long to purchase a matching frame, it might no longer be available, leaving you with mismatched pieces that disrupt the overall aesthetic.

To sum up, the frame you choose not only protects your artwork but enhances its presence and impact in your space. By carefully considering factors like size, material, thickness, glazing, and framing guidelines, you can make informed decisions that will elevate both the aesthetic and value of your art for years to come.

Remember, framing is an investment in the long-term enjoyment and preservation of your collection, so choose wisely and let your artwork shine in the best possible light.

Conclusion

Now that you know more about framing, I hope you’ll never pass by a frame without noticing it. And it doesn’t need to be at museums. Frames are everywhere—in hotels, in bars, in coffee houses, in offices, and even at friends' houses. Everywhere you go, there’s an opportunity to observe how different frames can influence the overall aesthetic of a space. This gives you ample opportunities to study and appreciate them, refining your eye for the small but important details that can make or break the presentation of a piece. Does it fit the artwork? What color and material is it made of? How prominent is it? How unique is it? Does it fit the current setting? Why was it chosen? What would you have chosen? All of these questions are important because they train your eye to be more discerning, ultimately helping you refine your own collections.

This exercise might also reveal to you just how much value a frame can add—or take away. A poorly framed artwork, a lazy framing decision, can detract from an otherwise great piece. Learn from it, and don’t treat a frame as just a simple decoration. It is, in fact, an integral part of the artwork.

Paper, Part II: Printers And Inkjet Paper Coatings.

In Part I, we explored the 2,000-year journey of papermaking, from its origins in ancient China to the advanced inkjet papers of today. The history of paper is remarkable because it is the history of human invention, often shaped by the arts. It’s centuries of humans searching for a way to express themselves, for a way to send a message through time. It’s important to remember this, especially when we often hear that art is just entertainment, or worse - meaningless and unnecessary.

This series is called “When Print Becomes Art” and paper coatings play a major role in that equation. I want to set the expectations for this article upfront. I’m not here to rewrite Wikipedia, but this won’t be a short read and I’m sorry for this, there is no other way. My aim is to show you what’s driving printing and photo art today and why it matters. If you’re new to printing, whether you’re a collector or a photographer, I want to expand your horizon - to get you seeing and thinking in new ways. Because once that happens, the world around you gets richer. The way you look at a print, at an image, at the very idea of art, will change. Permanently. You’ll learn what sets a good print apart from a great one, but that kind of shift doesn’t happen in a single paragraph. It takes a more systematic approach to set the scene.

The story of print paper starts with the story of paper itself — and that’s where we begin. Inkjet printers might be cutting-edge today, but in the bigger picture, they’re just tools — tools for human creativity, for expression, for storytelling. The technology may be new, but the purpose is as old as art itself. Every innovation in printing — from the darkroom pioneers of the 1900s to today’s nano-precision printheads — is built on centuries of craftsmanship, trial, and reinvention. The inkjet papers we use today carry the vision of fine art masters from the 1500s, and the craftsmanship of papermakers stretching back two thousand years. The past isn’t just an influence — it’s the foundation of art.

Since the beginning, artists have used paper for calligraphy, drawing, and painting, experimenting with its composition to suit their needs - altering ink absorption, texture, and longevity. Then, with the rise of industrialization, these papers evolved into its own category—art papers. They were designed with specific arts in mind - for watercolor, oil painting, drawing, calligraphy, and printmaking, each driving its own development forward.

Then came a new art form — photography. Early photographers needed a surface that could stay stable under the chemical coatings used to expose and develop an image. After starting with glass as the first chemically resistant medium, they turned to art papers as an alternative. By coating high quality art papers with special emulsions and adjusting the development processes, they produced the first photographic prints. Photo emulsion coating became a critical layer - controlling how the paper behaved during the chemical development. This gave rise to an entirely new industry: photographic paper coating. It’s a science where chemical layers on paper determine how an image comes to life. For over 100 years, photographers and artists have depended on variety of darkroom coatings to turn light and shadow into lasting images we can still see today.

And now, with the arrival of inkjet printers, the demand for new coatings set off new wave of innovations. The new technology required innovative nano coatings that could properly receive and absorb inkjet inks on paper. Coatings control how ink is absorbed, how colors pop, how blacks stay deep, and how details remain crisp and vibrant for decades.

Paper coatings are engineered to work seamlessly with the other advanced technologies of the digital era — printers and inks. Without synergy between these three — printers, inks, and papers, modern printing wouldn’t exist, and artists wouldn’t have embraced the digital workflow. That’s why, we are taking a closer look at paper coatings—their critical role in the print industry, how they work, why they matter, and how they define the final print.

1.THE ROAD TO MODEN INKJET PAPER, OR WHAT’S SO SPECIAL ABOUT COATING?

Because, coating is what separates a good print from a great one, and the perceived quality of a print—its colors, sharpness, contrast, and longevity, depends on it. Without coating, even the best printer, paper and ink in the world would produce dull, lifeless results. But to get there, paper manufacturers, print and ink makers, and coating technologists must work together, aligning their innovations to create the perfect fit.

Let’s first define what we mean. When we talk about “photo paper” for inkjet printing, we’re really talking about paper that has been specially coated to receive dye or pigment inks. There’s no such thing as photo paper without a coating. Raw, uncoated office paper or artist paper straight from a block won’t work with inkjets — try it, and the result will be dull and lifeless. A specialized coating layer is applied to the base paper to control how ink droplets spread and absorb. This precision boosts color vibrancy and sharpness, improves archival longevity, and elevates overall print quality. The challenge is developing coatings and application techniques that don’t alter the character of the paper. If a paper is matte and textured, it has to remain that way even after coating. Before we get into coatings, a quick recap on paper.

For many centuries, rag-and linen based paper was ”the paper”, and was characterized by its strength, archival quality, and texture. The invention of the printing press in 15th-century Europe sparked a surge in demand for paper, leading to the rise of the first paper mills and laid the foundation for the modern paper industry in Europe. But by the mid-1800s, the growing demand for paper made cotton rag supplies unsustainable, forcing the exploration of alternative sources. The development of a process to manufacture paper from wood pulp transformed papermaking into an industrial process, making paper cheaper and more accessible. However, this cheaper wood-based paper came at the expense of longevity and quality compared to traditional cotton-based papers. This shift divided paper industry into two categories: wood-based paper for everyday use, such as newspapers, packaging, and books, and cotton-based paper for fine art, premium publications, certificates and money.

When we link the history of paper to photography, two distinct paths emerge: traditional darkroom printing and inkjet printing. Within the darkroom paper category, there’s a further distinction between fiber-based papers and resin-coated (RC) papers. Fiber-based papers, rooted in the legacy of cotton art papers, absorb more chemistry and water. They require longer processing and washing times but deliver superior print quality. Many coatings were developed to enhance print quality, including Baryta, known for its deep blacks and bright whites. With its rich tonal range and distinctive surface, Baryta became the gold standard in printing, favored by printers, collectors, galleries and museums.

Resin-coated (RC) darkroom papers emerged more than a century after the first cotton-based photo papers, revolutionizing traditional darkroom printing by making it faster and more affordable. A polyethylene layer on both sides of a wood pulp base prevented liquids from soaking into the fibers, allowing the paper to dry quickly and resist curling or damage. Since the paper itself was encased between plastic layers, manufacturers could use lower-cost wood based paper, further driving down production costs.

Baryta and RC coatings clearly influenced the development of inkjet paper by showing how surface treatments can fundamentally change the properties of paper. The interplay between paper types, surface coatings, and inks defines the very character of printed art. Each paper offers its own texture, brightness, contrast, and longevity, all of which interact uniquely with specific inks and printers, shaping the final print. To understand this fully, we need to start by looking at the three key variables that coating companies must consider: the type of inkjet printhead, the ink type and formulation, and the paper itself, which serves as the foundation for these coatings.

Let’s start with printers—because without them, there would be no industry. The way a printer delivers ink onto paper determines everything else. It influences the type of inks that can be used, the coatings needed to control absorption, and ultimately, the quality and longevity of the final print. Understanding printers is the first step to understanding how paper, coatings, and inks come together to create a perfect print.

THE TALE OF TWO KINGS: EPSON AND CANON

The world of professional photo printing is a duopoly—Epson or Canon. Their dominance wasn’t handed to them - it was built through fair and relentless innovation. Both companies have spent decades perfecting their printheads, ink formulations, and paper compatibility. Customers voted with their wallets, forcing competitors with inferior products out of the market, proving that when given the choice, consumers will favor superior technology.

Inkjet printing technology was invented as early as the 1950s, but it wasn’t until the mid-1980s that HP and Canon successfully turned it into a commercial product. However, before the mid-1990s, there was little demand for high-quality inkjet printing. Photography was still dominated by film. There simply wasn’t much to print. Offices relied on laser and dot matrix printers, and inkjet photo printing was more of a novelty than a necessity, giving manufacturers little reason to push innovation. Inkjet printheads were developed in labs, but they were rarely seen by consumers due to low high cost and how demand. But as digital cameras advanced, so did the desire to print photos at home, setting the stage for an entirely new industry - professional home photo printing.

As digital cameras advanced, traditional photo labs handled the printing. Instead of sending in a roll of film, you could now print directly from files. For printer manufactures, the key to success in photo printing was always clear: make high-quality home printing affordable and remove the need for photo labs. Achieve that, and it would drive printer sales while creating a steady demand for replacement inks, fueling long-term revenue. That revenue, in turn, could be reinvested into more R&D, pushing the technology even further. But to match lab-quality prints and make printers a truly appealing product, manufacturers had to develop new ink formulations and advanced printheads capable of delivering precise colors and razor-sharp details. And all of this had to fit into an affordable, desktop-sized printer—a challenge that required completely rethinking traditional printing technology used in labs. So the game was on. But who would be the first to succeed in building a professional small-business photo printing industry?

Epson was the first to enter the professional photo printing market in the mid-1990s. Instead of starting with consumer-grade printers, Epson made a strategic decision to begin at the top, targeting the most lucrative premium segment—photographers, artists, and professionals who demanded the highest print quality, regardless of cost.

Epson took a significant risk by developing its MicroPiezo printhead technology and committing to more expensive pigment inks at a time when dye-based inks dominated the industry. While pigment inks offered clear advantages—better longevity, superior fade resistance, and a wider color gamut—they were also more costly and, at the time, no commercial printheads were optimized to handle them.

Despite these challenges, Epson’s bet paid off. By delivering a product that combined exceptional print quality with long-term durability, Epson set a new standard in professional photo printing, securing its position as the industry leader.

Meanwhile, Canon and HP, both of whom dominated the office printer market, were slower to enter the professional photo printing space. By the time Canon began focusing on high-end photo printing in the early 2000s, Epson was already the industry leader for several years. Additionally, Epson’s extensive patents on piezoelectric printhead technology created significant barriers, making it challenging for Canon and HP to catch up quickly in the professional photo market. The truth was, the initial photo printing market was too small for Canon to bother with. Until it wasn’t. By the time Canon realized its potential, the industry had grown too big to ignore, and they had almost missed the train.

Because Canon arrived late, the premium “uncompromised quality” position was already claimed by Epson. That left Canon searching for another angle, leading them to focus on entry-level printers. This choice shaped their early strategy, making photo printing more accessible to a wider audience. Canon leveraged its existing thermal inkjet technology (which it co-developed with HP) to refine its printers for use with cheaper dye-based inks. This helped Canon secure a strong second place in the market, becoming a formidable competitor to Epson.

However, in the long run, this early focus on accessibility rather than high-end product proved limiting. As the industry evolved, the professional market—where print quality and longevity mattered most—became the real battleground. Epson, having already committed to pigment-based inks and high-end printheads, maintained a dominant position. Canon had to play catch-up, eventually developing its own professional-grade printers and pigment ink systems to compete head-on with Epson in the high-end market. Other manufacturers like HP tried to compete, releasing the occasional product, but none could keep up. Eventually, they threw in the towel.

Today, both Epson and Canon remain at the forefront of professional photo printing, continually pushing the boundaries of print quality, color accuracy, and longevity, each with its own technological approach and loyal user base. While Epson is still the leader, its previously undisputed position is now challenged by Canon’s LUCIA PRO pigment inks, which offer excellent color accuracy, deep blacks, and archival quality.

A few other brands worth mentioning are the so-called lab machines—high-output, high-quality systems designed for large-scale production. Fujifilm, Roland, Mimaki and HP offer high-quality photo printers used by top labs around the world. However, they are not aimed at individual photographers or small studios and have little influence in this space, so we won’t consider them here. 

TWO TYPES OF INKS

Now let’s turn to the inks, so we can understand the risk Epson took — and why it worked. There are two main types of inkjet inks: pigment and dye inks. Both types of producing colors have existed long before modern printing, finding their roots in the arts and textile industries. Their differences in composition and behavior affect everything from color vibrancy to longevity and even the type of paper on which each excels. So why two types, you might ask? The existence of both pigment and dye inks comes down to balancing quality and cost.

Dye-based inks have been around for centuries. These are traditional dyes, derived from natural sources like plants and minerals, and were used for coloring fabrics, paper, and other materials. When inkjet printing technology emerged, dye inks became the natural choice for manufacturers because they were easy to produce, inexpensive, dissolved well in liquid carriers, and created vibrant, rich colors when absorbed into paper.

Dye inks are made from color molecules fully dissolved in liquid, much like sugar in water. This allows them to soak into the paper’s fibers, similar to dyeing a T-shirt, where the dye becomes part of the fabric itself rather than just sitting on top. In printing, dye inks produce rich, vibrant colors with smooth gradients—meaning you won’t see where one color ends and another begins. The benefits of dye inks lie in their affordability and their ability to create vivid prints, especially on glossy surfaces.

However, because of their chemical composition, dye inks are inherently more sensitive to environmental factors such as UV light damage, ozone, humidity, and pollutants. When exposed to these elements, the chemical bonds in dye inks break down, causing colors to fade over time. Additionally, dye inks don’t perform as well on matte papers, struggle with producing deep blacks in black-and-white prints, and lack the stability required for archival purposes or museum-quality prints. Essentially, dye inks were well-suited for consumer-grade printers but failed to meet the demands of professional photographers who required long-lasting, high-quality prints that would last for decades.

This unmet need for professional prints created a demand for more durable inks—ones that could deliver stunning prints while ensuring long-term stability for professional photographers, for whom quality mattered more than price.

Pigment inks were introduced to address the limitations of dye inks, particularly their tendency to fade quickly. Inspired by the long history of pigments used in fine art, such as those found in oil paints and pastels, pigment inks offered superior durability and longevity, making them ideal for archival purposes. However, they required more sophisticated technology to handle the solid particles and apply them consistently to paper surfaces.

Pigment inks use tiny solid particles of color suspended in liquid. Unlike dye inks that soak into the paper’s fibers, these particles sit on the surface, forming a durable layer of color that is far more resistant to fading. Think of it like painting a wall versus dyeing a fabric: pigment inks create a stable, protective layer on top, while dye inks are absorbed into the material itself. Because pigment particles remain on the paper’s surface, they are more resistant to environmental factors like light, moisture, and pollutants. Their chemical stability makes pigment inks the preferred choice for archival-quality prints where longevity is essential, offering photographers and artists confidence that their work will endure over time. 

So both ink types have their strengths: dye inks offer vivid colors and smooth blends, while pigment inks provide durability and longevity. Yet, each has its limitations too. Dye inks are prone to fading over time, while pigment inks have historically struggled to match the vibrancy and seamless color transitions of dye-based prints.

Epson prioritized pigment inks early on, focusing on longevity, color accuracy, and expanding the color gamut through additional channels. They understood that this is what professional photographers would value most.

Canon, by contrast, initially leaned on dye inks, favoring affordability and vibrancy, and focused on the consumer market first. But in recent years, Canon has made significant strides in pigment technology with its LUCIA series, now competing directly with Epson in the professional photo market.

Today, the advances in both dye and pigment technologies have significantly narrowed the gap between the two types. Some premium dye ink formulations are now offering improved longevity and UV resistance. Meanwhile, new pigment ink formulas are achieving similar vibrancy to dye inks. But choosing the type of ink is just one part of the equation. The real challenge is how to deliver that ink onto paper. That’s where printheads come in.

TWO TYPE OF PRINTHEADS

All inkjet printing operates by precisely ejecting ink droplets through electronic control, but the technique used to accomplish this differs. Canon and Epson, took different approaches to solve this problem, each developing their own printhead technology with distinct advantages: thermal inkjet technology by Canon and HP’s and piezoelectric inkjet technology by Epson. But what is a printhead?

Printhead is the heart of any inkjet printer. It responsible for accurately placing tiny droplets of ink onto paper. The printhead does not mix colors or process the image. It is purely a mechanical component that ejects tiny droplets of ink onto the paper in a controlled pattern. Think of the printhead as the brush in a digital painting—it doesn’t decide which colors to use or how they are mixed, but it applies them onto the paper with high accuracy.

How does it work? Printhead contains thousands of nozzles, each assigned to a specific ink color. These nozzles fire droplets as small as 1-4 picoliters which is about 10 times smaller than the diameter of a human hair. Each printhead is designed for a fixed number of inks, meaning if a printer has 10 inks, the printhead will have 10 separate ink channels and nozzles. For example a printer might have 180 nozzles for each of it’s 10 inks, making it 1,800 nozzles in total.

Beyond simply placing ink, the printhead controls droplet size and placement. Piezoelectric printheads, used by Epson, can adjust droplet size (variable droplet technology) on the fly because they use an electrically controlled deformation of piezo crystals to control how much ink is ejected. Think of it like choosing the size of a brush — a small brush for fine details, a broad brush for large, solid areas. Larger droplets efficiently fill broad color areas, while smaller droplets enhance fine details and smooth gradients, leading to smoother gradients and better tonal transitions.

A 10-12 ink system can theoretically produce billions of colors. Yet inkjet printers do not mix inks inside the printhead like traditional paint mixing. So if the printhead itself doesn’t mix colors, how are colors created? It all happens in the printer’s software. The RIP (Raster Image Processor) and printer drivers use halftoning algorithms to determine how inks are layered and combined to produce a vast color range from just a dozen of inks. Color mixing happens on the paper, where microscopic droplets of different ink colors are placed next to or on top of each other. The human eye then blends these dots visually, creating the illusion of smooth gradients and continuous tones.

It’s actually an incredibly impressive feat of calculation—the ability to produce any color simply by placing microscopic dots on paper. What we perceive as solid colors, smooth gradients, and fine details is, in reality, mostly white space, with tiny ink droplets carefully arranged in patterns. The human eye blends these dots visually, creating the illusion of continuous tones and a full spectrum of color. It’s a mind trick of precision and engineering, turning basic ink placement into stunning, lifelike prints.

The accuracy of droplet placement is measured in dots per inch (DPI)—the higher the dpi, the finer the detail and the smoother the gradients in the final print. This is what is called “printer resolution”. However, DPI alone does not determine print quality, much like megapixels in a camera don’t guarantee better image quality. A well-optimized 24-megapixel camera can outperform a poorly engineered 40-megapixel sensor, and the same principle applies to printers. A 2400 DPI professional photo printer with precise droplet control will often produce superior prints compared to a 5600 DPI consumer-grade printer. While higher DPI means more dots per inch, fixed droplet printheads (like Canon’s thermal inkjet) always eject the same-sized droplets, which can lead to harsher tonal transitions and visible dot patterns. In contrast, Epson’s 2400 DPI piezoelectric printheads with variable droplet technology can dynamically adjust droplet sizes, using smaller droplets for fine details and larger ones for solid areas, resulting in smoother gradients, better tonal transitions, and more natural-looking prints—especially in black & white photography.

But while most color mixing happens visually on the paper, some degree of unwanted physical blending occurs when wet ink droplets overlap. This is why paper coating matters—some papers allow more ink spreading, while others keep droplets distinct for sharper detail. Paper coatings act like guides for the ink, making sure each droplet stays exactly where it was placed. Additionally, high-end papers are often supplied with their own ICC profiles—a set of instructions that guide the printer on how to accurately reproduce colors on this paper type. These profiles ensure that the printer adjusts color data correctly, optimizing ink application for the specific characteristics of the paper, such as its brightness, texture, and coating.

It’s worth mentioning that advancements in cameras and monitors have played a major role in pushing printing technology forward. As cameras captured more detail and monitors displayed more accurate colors, printers had to evolve to keep up. A 5-megapixel image from the early 2000s didn’t require the same level of precision in inks and printheads as today’s 64-megapixel files. At the same time, as speed improves everywhere—from internet connections to processors and SSDs—expectations for print times have risen. People no longer tolerate waiting 10 minutes for a single print. To meet that demand, today’s printheads are designed to deliver both speed and quality — working together with faster-drying paper coatings. Modern printheads achieve this by increasing nozzle density, improving droplet precision, and boosting firing efficiency. The result: professional-quality prints, produced fast, without sacrificing detail or depth.

Now that we understand what printheads are and how they work, let’s take a closer look at the two distinct designs used by Epson and Canon.

EPSON’S PIEZOELECTRIC TECHNOLOGY: SUPERIOR TONAL TRANSITIONS & LONGEVITY

Epson was the first to introduce an elegant and technically advanced solution: piezoelectric printhead technology. The printhead reliese tiny crystals that change shape when an electrical charge is applied, mechanically pushing ink droplets out of the nozzles. This method allows for incredibly precise droplet control, resulting in finer details, smoother gradients, and better color accuracy.

The beauty of this approach is that it emerged from a completely different industry—watches. Epson, originally part of Seiko, had engineers who recognized the potential of the piezoelectric effect used in Seiko’s quartz watches and adapted the same principle for inkjet printing. But what is the piezoelectric effect? It is a phenomenon where certain materials, like quartz or ceramics, generate an electric charge when subjected to mechanical pressure. This effect also works in reverse—when an electric charge is applied, the material changes shape or deforms in a highly controlled and repeatable way.

Epson’s Micro Piezo printhead technology is built on this principle. Instead of using heat as Canon’s thermal printheads, Epson’s printheads use tiny piezoelectric elements that flex when an electric charge is applied. This controlled movement creates pressure, pushing precise amounts of ink through the nozzles without the need to boil the ink. This breakthrough led to the creation of Micro Piezo printheads, which became the foundation of Epson’s inkjet superiority, setting it apart from competitors. The advantage of piezoelectric printheads is that they allow for variable droplet sizes, more consistent ink placement, and greater durability, since they don’t experience the wear and tear caused by heating and cooling cycles.

Epson’s Micro Piezo technology became the gold standard for archival-quality photo printing. The superior longevity and precisionof piezoelectric printheads made Epson printers the go-to choice for photographers who demand consistent, high-quality results over time. However, piezoelectric printheads are more expensive to manufacture, contributing to the higher cost of Epson printers. While the initial investment is higher, the printhead lasts the life of the printer. And because no heat is involved, the printheads experience less wear over time, making them long-lasting and highly reliable. Built upon Seiko’s breakthrough in quartz watch technology, Epson transformed inkjet printing with its piezoelectric innovation, redefining professional photo and fine art printing and securing its position as a dominant force in the industry.

CANON’S THERMAL INKJET TECHNOLOGY: CHEAPER, FASTER SPEEDS & VIVID COLORS

Now, because Canon, entered the professional photo market later than Epson it forced to take a different approach.  Epson’s piezoelectric printhead technology was patented. Before Canon adapted inkjet for photo printing, thermal inkjet technology was primarily used for office and home document printing as well as label printing for markings or shipping.

Thermal inkjet technology was pioneered in 1977 by Canon engineer Ichiro Endo and later commercialized by both Canon and HP. It works by using a resistive heating element inside a tiny ink chamber. When an electric current is applied, the ink is heated to over 300°C in a fraction of a microsecond, causing it to vaporize and form a bubble. This sudden expansion forces a droplet of ink through the nozzle onto the paper. As the bubble collapses, a vacuum effect draws fresh ink into the chamber, ready for the next cycle.

Canon’s solution was to refine and optimize existing thermal inkjet technology for professional photo printing. Canon focused on increasing nozzle density and enhancing precision, allowing their printers to achieve high resolutions, smooth gradients, and vibrant colors. Their FINE (Full-Photolithography Inkjet Nozzle Engineering) printhead technology improved droplet placement, making Canon’s professional photo printers competitive in both detail and color accuracy.

One of the main advantages of Canon’s approach is cost-efficiency. Thermal printheads are cheaper to manufacture, making Canon’s professional photo printers more accessible for photographers needing high-quality A3 and A2 prints at home. However, despite its strengths, thermal inkjet comes with inherent limitations. The ink must be designed to withstand extreme heat, meaning not all ink formulations work well with this technology. The heating and cooling cycles also cause wear over time, making thermal printheads a consumable part that must be replaced periodically, adding a long-term maintenance cost.

CANON VS EPSON TODAY

The core difference between Canon and Epson inkjet technology lies in how their printheads deliver ink — and this difference is protected by decades of patents. Epson holds key patents for its piezoelectric printheads, while Canon’s thermal inkjet technology is also proprietary. Neither company can use the other’s method without licensing agreements. Still, over time, the performance gap has narrowed. Today, the difference between the two is subtle and often only noticeable to the most demanding professionals.

In the early days of professional photo printing, the divide was clearer — mainly due to the type of inks used. Before 2006, Epson was the only major manufacturer offering pigment-based inks for high-end photo printing. This gave it a strong lead among archival printmakers and fine art photographers, who needed long-lasting, stable prints. Canon, by contrast, focused on dye inks, which offered more vibrant colors on glossy paper but lacked longevity.

The real issue with dye inks isn't just how they’re absorbed by paper — it's their chemical makeup. They fade faster over time. To compete, Canon developed LUCIA pigment inks for its imagePROGRAF series in 2006. These were paired with refined thermal printheads capable of handling pigment particles reliably. From that point forward, the competition shifted: no longer dye vs. pigment, but rather how each brand optimized pigment ink within its printhead system.

A major technical difference remains in how ink is delivered. Canon’s thermal printheads eject ink using heat, producing a fixed droplet size. This design favors speed and sharpness. Epson’s piezoelectric printheads use mechanical movement and can vary droplet size on the fly. This allows for smoother tonal transitions, richer shadow detail, and finer gradients — especially noticeable in BW prints using dedicated gray inks.

Since Canon’s thermal heads can’t change droplet size, they rely on higher nozzle counts and denser droplet firing (higher DPI) to achieve smooth results. It works well, but lacks the nuanced tonal control of Epson’s approach. Canon tends to be faster and sharper; Epson slower but better at subtle transitions and grayscale depth.

To summarize: Canon’s thermal technology is efficient and fast, but puts more strain on the printhead. Epson’s piezo method is slower but offers greater precision and durability. Each has evolved to meet the needs of professional photographers in different ways. Canon moved from dye to pigment to stay competitive in the archival space, while Epson expanded into dye-based consumer printers to reach a broader market.

In the end, the choice between them comes down to priorities — speed and vibrancy vs. tonal depth and fine control.

Finally, we can group the last 30 years in print quality innovation in these 5 areas:

• Higher-resolution printheads with more nozzles (increased from 12 to more than 50,000), enabling faster, sharper prints.

• Variable droplet technology, allowing precise control of ink volume in each tiny area for smoother gradients and finer details.

• Expanded ink sets, moving from basic CMYK to 6, 8, 10, or even 12-color systems, improving color accuracy, tonal depth, and black & white performance.

• Improved ink formulations that resist fading, provide richer colors, and enhance print longevity.

• Better paper coatings that optimize how ink sits on the surface, preventing bleeding, smudging, and bronzing.

And the last point naturally lead us to the topic of coating. As inkjet technology has evolved, so too have paper coatings, adapting to the demands of higher-resolution printheads, wider ink gamuts, and the need for long-lasting, museum-quality prints. So, let’s dive into the world of paper coatings.

2. WHAT IS COATING?

Now, finally, we arrive at the main topic - coating. That long introduction was necessary to set the stage for our main character. By the mid-2000s, professional inkjet printers could produce color gradients and black-and-white tones that rivaled traditional photo labs—thanks in no small part to advancements in paper coatings. To reach that level of quality, printer manufacturers set to develop new ink formulations and printheads. But they also recognized that their hardware performance relied on paper that could consistently produce perfect prints. This led to the need for specialized paper coatings designed to work seamlessly with their specific inks. As a result, both Epson and Canon began investing in their own branded papers optimized for top performance with their printers. Thus, the photo paper industry essentially became a “coating industry”, and the competition for papers and coating has begun.

Famous artisan paper companies like Canson, Hahnemühle, Arches, and Fabriano had spent centuries making premium cotton-based papers for artists. They now saw a new market in inkjet printing and began investing in advanced inkjet coatings for their renowned papers, blending old-world craftsmanship with new-world chemistry for the photo industry.   Meanwhile, some established darkroom paper giants struggled to adapt to the digital era. Brands like Agfa, Kodak, Fujifilm, Polaroid, and Vivitar didn’t survive the digital revolution. However, new tech companies seized the opportunity, focusing entirely on research and development of inkjet paper coatings, becoming true specialists in the world of coating.

All photo papers have coatings. If you have an art paper at home, like watercolor paper, and try to print on it, the image will likely come out blurry. Why? Because the ink is absorbed too deeply into the paper, much like watercolors. Even if it’s high-quality cotton paper, without an inkjet coating, the ink will spread too far from where it was originally placed - colors will mix, lines will blend. The structure of the paper itself, with its various fiber properties, affects how the ink is absorbed. The solution is to prepare the paper to hold the ink in its exact place. This is where coating comes in. It’s a layer—or multiple layers—applied to the surface of the paper, designed to control how printer ink behaves on that specific paper type.

Coating catches the ink droplets and guides them exactly where they need to be. The base paper still matters – type of paper used, its composition and thickness influence durability and feel, but the coating is where color vibrancy, sharpness, ink absorption, and longevity are truly decided. In short, coatings are what make the difference between a traditional art paper for drawing and a high-performance photo paper capable of reproducing vibrant colors, sharp details, and long-lasting prints.

But it’s not as simple as just applying a primer or gesso layer to paper. Coatings are made up of various materials - binders (polymers, starches), fillers (often silica or clay/ceramic), and other additives for gloss control, UV resistance, and drying properties. If the coating is too absorbent, the ink droplets spread, making images look blurry. If it’s not absorbent enough, the droplets can pool or smudge. And if the chemical composition doesn’t match the ink, colors may shift or fade. But coating does more than just control how inks behave. It can solve a variety of issues—providing UV protection, making paper water-resistant, and enhancing color range. As a result, coating is complex and highly innovative.

To address multiple challenges, a multi-layer coating approach can be used, where each layer solves a specific issue: producing high D-max (rich blacks), achieving a wide color gamut, ensuring fast drying, and providing resistance to fading or bronzing. Alternatively, a single advanced coating can be engineered to serve multiple functions at once, such as controlling ink spread, enhancing color, and providing protection, all within one advanced coating. Both approaches are valuable, and many top manufacturers use a mix of both depending on their product line and target market.

So coatings are the most critical factor for inkjet paper because they:

•  Control ink absorption (preventing bleeding or spreading).

•  Enhance color vibrancy, sharpness, and tonal range.

•  Support longevity (e.g., fade resistance, UV protection, archival properties).

With so much emphasis on coating, it’s no surprise that patents and trade secrets abound. In this space, proprietary coatings are the real magic sauce. Each brand has its own secret formula, often protected by patents or trade secrets. And patents can complicate things—if a manufacturer doesn’t have access to a specific patented technology, they must either license it, or find a workaround to achieve similar results. This explains why some brands may excel in certain coating characteristics, such as color vibrancy, while others may focus on archival longevity or gloss uniformity. Some brands handle everything in-house, while others buy third-party coatings to complement their own.

This intense competition over coatings shapes the industry’s structure and drives its unique value propositions. The need for specialized expertise in coatings has led to distinct categories of manufacturers, each contributing in a different way to the creation of high-quality photo paper.

• Branded Papers - by Epson and Canon

• Heritage Paper Mills - Legacy mills like Canson and Hahnemühle that are also doing their own coating,

• New Tech Companies - new technologically advanced dedicated coating companies such has MediaJet, FotoSpeed, or Moab and also older traditional darkroom companies like Ilford.

  It is also possible to add a fourth category—Specialized Coating Companies. These manufacturers don’t produce the paper itself but instead develop advanced coatings that they supply to paper mills and printer brands. However, since consumers will never interact with these brands directly, we will not cover them here.

BRANDED PAPERS

Canon and Epson play a vital role in the print ecosystem. They hold a unique advantage in the photo printing industry as the creators of both printer technology and proprietary ink systems. Without their printers, there is no industry, and no need for print papers. Everyone in the industry depends on them. But they depend on others to make papers as they don’t manufacture their own papers or coatings. They typically partner with mills that can supply the base stock and with coating specialists who can formulate surfaces tuned to their specific inks. They determine essential properties like ink absorption, color vibrancy, smudge resistance, and drying speed.

Epson and Canon have deep scientific expertise in how ink interacts with different media, particularly for their own proprietary ink formulations. They hold key patents in ink chemistry and coating technologies, giving them tight control over print quality. When working with paper suppliers they provide specific requirements for chemical formulations, surface texture, and coating durability, ensuring that the paper meets their exacting standards.

Before approving a paper for their lineup, they conduct rigorous testing to guarantee color accuracy, longevity, and performance across different printing conditions. Once the paper meets their expectations, the rest is simply packaging, branding, and distribution, making it appear for consumers under their own name. The final product is sold as “Canon Photo Paper Pro” or “Epson Legacy” even if a separate mill or coater is behind the scenes.

For example, it’s plausible that a paper sold as Epson Signature Worthy was produced in collaboration with Hahnemühle, with subtle tweaks to ensure compatibility with Epson’s pigment inks. Consumers know that these papers are tested with their respective printer models, providing a sense of safety and reassurance, ensuring reliable results. These are great benefits for an entry-level customer, offering reliability, ease of use, and peace of mind when choosing the right paper.

However, while these branded papers are excellent for their printers, they aren’t necessarily the absolute best on the market. Independent companies like Canson or Ilford might offer competing papers with better performance. Why? Because, Canon and Epson prioritize printer and ink development, which are their most profitable products. Photo paper is an important part of their ecosystem, but not their primary business. By outsourcing production to established paper manufacturers, they avoid the associated costs while still offering papers that are good enough for most users. This might sound like a less-than-ideal approach for a brand with a premium reputation, but there is a clear logic behind it.

Both Epson and Canon sell a wide range of printers, from entry-level models to high-end professional machines. And all of these printers need paper. But not all paper needs to be premium—most of what they sell consists of basic, everyday photo papers that are not good enough for artists and professionals. For these customers, they offer in high-quality, reliable papers, but they often lag behind in adopting the latest coating technologies. Instead of leading innovation, they rely on third-party manufacturers to bring cutting-edge coatings to the market. This creates a market opportunity for specialized paper manufacturers who can offer rare papers or innovative coatings that push print quality beyond what Canon and Epson provide. 

Epson and Canon base their strategy on a simple real-world assumption: professional photographers are unlikely to stay loyal to a brand’s limited paper selection. And is this really a problem for them? Of course not. No matter which paper photographers and artists choose, they still need ink—and that’s where the real money is. Whether a print is made on their branded paper or a third-party specialty paper, the printer still runs on Canon or Epson inks, keeping their business thriving.

In fact, the more high-quality papers available, the more consumers feel the need to experiment—and that search burns through ink. Every test print, every comparison, every adjustment means more ink consumption, which only benefits Canon and Epson. The more serious a photographer or artist becomes about finding the perfect paper, the more ink they end up buying along the way.

HERITAGE PAPER MILLS

Historically, many of the big names in the art paper industry built their reputations on centuries-old papermaking expertise: Fabriano (funded 1264), Arches (1492), Canson (1557), Hahnemühle (1584), and St Cuthberts Mill (1700s). They continued their tradition of producing high-quality artist papers, using techniques like mould-made manufacturing and 100% cotton rag processing. But with the rise of digital printing, a new opportunity emerged—inkjet printing. Recognizing this shift, they set out to develop innovative inkjet-receptive coatings, adapting their premium papers for the demands of modern printing technology.  And they often produce unique textures and mould-made surfaces that modern mass-production factories simply cannot replicate.

Heritage brands have an enormous marketing advantage - their deep-rooted connection to the arts. Their legacy isn’t just about centuries of papermaking expertise; it’s about their place in art history. Their papers have been used by iconic artists, showcased in top museums and galleries, and tested in real-world archival conditions. This lineage is their appeal.

You might be holding a fresh print in 2025, but the paper you’re using carries the same tradition that fueled artistic pursuits in the 1500s. It reflects the same obsession with quality, the same relentless drive for perfect self-expression that has defined artists for centuries. Great artists have always needed tools to express their vision, and heritage mills earned their place by matching the artist’s dedication to craft. Paper is never just paper—it is a masterpiece in the making. You’re not just holding a modern inkjet print—you’re part of an unbroken artistic lineage, applying the latest technology to the same timeless pursuit of beauty, meaning, and self-expression.

For example, a brand like Hahnemühle protects its paper recipes, blending centuries of internal knowledge about cotton rag formation with advanced polymer chemistry for the top layers. This fusion of tradition and innovation is what sets them apart. Their brand story resonates deeply with artists and fine art photographers who appreciate the weight of history behind their materials.

Another example is Japanese paper maker Awagami, that stand out because they combine their centuries-old washi traditions with modern coating technologies. Their base papers are entirely their own, often handmade or produced on traditional equipment, but they apply proprietary coatings to make them suitable for inkjet printing. These papers tend to be more textured and tactile, offering a unique look and feel that appeals to niche markets and command very high prices.

But it’s not just about smart marketing. Marketing can sell inferior products, and legacy alone doesn’t guarantee quality. Just because a brand traces its roots back to 1584 doesn’t mean it makes the best product today. Relevance and performance in the present are what truly matter. And that’s where these papers stand apart. They aren’t just built on tradition—they set the modern standard. Their heritage lies in uncompromising service to artists—not just preserving tradition, but continually pushing the boundaries of quality to meet the demands of those who rely on their materials to create. Their superiority is proven by countless awards and independent industry tests. Time and again, they outperform competitors in archival longevity, color accuracy, and print quality, making them the gold standard for fine art printing.  

These papers are standard for museum and gallery exhibitions, guaranteeing archival-quality prints that withstand the test of time. They are also the preferred choice for weddings and limited edition prints, where artists and photographers seek not just exceptional print quality, but also the depth and prestige that comes from working with heritage brands known for their craftsmanship and history. It’s something special when the paper itself has a story.

NEW TECH COMPANIES

It’s reasonable to expect that where heritage brands exist, new, innovative companies will rise to challenge them. Companies like MediaJet, PermaJet, Tecco, Innova, FotoSpeed, and Moab may lack centuries of prestige, but they focus on pushing innovation in coatings and responding quickly to market trends.

Their goal isn’t to preserve the past—it’s to solve the problems of today. They aren’t bound by tradition but driven by innovation, constantly refining materials and coatings to meet the evolving demands of modern digital printing. Unlike traditional mills, these brands typically source base papers from established manufacturers and invest heavily in advanced R&D for coatings. Because they aren’t tied to any heritage, they have the flexibility to experiment with new materials and technologies, bringing products to market faster. Many compete on speed, cutting-edge coatings, and cost-effectiveness, with some offering equal or even better performance than legacy brands.

Make no mistake - these companies are deeply passionate about photography and printing, perhaps even more so than some legacy brands. They represent a new breed in the industry. Unlike heritage brands, they have no connection to traditional art papers and, in many cases, no ties to darkroom papers either. Their entire focus is on digital printing—not as an extension of the past, but as the only thing that matters.

This dynamic creates a diverse market, with each brand claiming unique advantages in texture, gloss, longevity, or ink compatibility. While heritage brands focus almost exclusively on the premium “best” segment, modern coating companies serve a broader range of customers—offering good, better, and best options to meet different needs.

Another key advantage of specialized coating companies is their commitment to innovation. Heritage brands can sustain themselves on reputation and their connection to fine art, but for coating companies, performance is everything. If their products aren’t good enough, they don’t survive.

Another point worth mentioning is that the price of photo paper is often linked to the base stock. High-end inkjet papers made from cotton rag or bamboo tend to cost more because of the raw materials and their superior archival qualities. These fibers are longer, stronger, and less likely to yellow over time. Other fibers like hemp, agave, and sugarcane are also used in specialized papers, each offering unique textures and tonal qualities — often at a premium. But no matter the base material, it’s the coating that ultimately turns them into true inkjet photo papers.

To summarize. Today’s photo paper industry is complex. Coating specialists might produce slightly different formulas for various clients.  Canon or Epson might commission a line of “Premium Photo Paper” from a well-known mill, customizing it with certain top layers to match their inks. Meanwhile, the same mill could produce an uncoated or differently coated variant for a smaller brand. Some big mills supply base stock to multiple brands.

3. HOW COATINGS WORK

As we’ve already discusses, paper coating controls how inks interact with the surface, and there are papers specifically designed for each printhead technology. The type of ink used (pigment vs. dye) and the method by which it is applied (thermal vs. piezoelectric) affect how the paper absorbs, holds, and displays the ink.

A typical inkjet coating starts with a base layer that may contain fillers and binders to smooth the paper surface. This is followed by one or more layers of either microporous or swellable polymers — each designed to handle ink differently.

MICROPOROUS COATING

One of the most advanced coating technologies is the microporous coating. It’s called microporous because it contains millions of tiny pores that act like a sponge, instantly absorbing ink while keeping the surface dry to the touch. This fast absorption prevents smudging and allows for deep, rich blacks and vivid colors. Microporous coatings are widely used on professional glossy, satin, and fine-art papers because they produce sharp images with excellent detail. Microporous coatings are more compatible with pigment inks and piezoelectric printheads like Epson’s, which rely on precise ink placement and variable droplet sizes. The paper coating is designed to hold the pigment particles on the surface rather than letting them soak into the fibers.

There are microporous and nanoporous coatings, with nano being the latest innovation.

Microporous

• Standard for quality pigment printing, fast drying, good archival quality.

• Contains tiny pores in the range of a few microns (1 micron = 1,000 nanometers).

• Ink is absorbed quickly into these pores.

• Designed mainly for pigment inks, which stay near the surface while the liquid vehicle is drawn into the pores.

• Offers fast drying, sharp detail, and good water resistance.

• Very common in high-end photo and fine art papers, especially those using pigment inks and piezo printheads.

Nanoporous

• An evolution of microporous, with smaller pores for finer control and smoother finishes.

• Contains even smaller pores, typically in the tens to hundreds of nanometers range.

• Functions similarly to microporous coatings but with a more refined pore structure.

• May offer finer control of ink spread, higher density of pigment capture, and slightly better gloss uniformity.

• Often used in premium inkjet papers where extremely fine detail, smoother gradients, or more uniform finishes are desired.

Piezoelectric printers, like those from Epson, often benefit from papers with highly advanced microporous coatings that allow for the precise placement of variable droplet sizes. This preserves the fine tonal gradation and detail that piezo heads are known for. Nanoporous coatings, offer even finer pore structures that enable more controlled ink absorption, leading to smoother gloss, improved image uniformity, and even sharper detail. They are especially effective with high-resolution pigment printing, where precise pigment placement is critical.

Canon’s thermal printheads also work well with microporous-coated papers, though their fixed droplet size can make them more sensitive to overly absorbent coatings. Papers that slightly regulate ink absorption help maintain consistency and prevent issues like dot gain or banding. Canon printers using dye inks may also pair well with swellable-coated papers for improved gloss and color vibrancy.

SWELLABLE COATING

Dye inks require papers with a swellable coating. In this approach, the polymer layer absorbs and expands around the ink, locking the color molecules into the top layers of the paper. This encapsulation helps protect dye inks from environmental pollutants like ozone and light, which can cause fading over time. Swellable coatings often produce smoother gloss and more uniform surface appearance but take longer to dry. They can deliver rich, vibrant colors, especially on glossy papers, but are generally less resistant to humidity and UV light compared to microporous coatings used with pigment inks. Swellable-coated papers are typically better suited for thermal printheads, like those used by Canon, which rely on dye-based inks and fixed-size droplets fired at high speeds.

To summarize:

• Microporous/Nanoporous = better for pigment inks and piezo heads (e.g., Epson)

• Swellable = better for dye inks and thermal heads (e.g., Canon)

COATING BY SURFACE TYPE

Now when we know how the coatings works, we can split all papers into two categories: glossy papers and matte papers. Glossy papers are typically RC-coated (Resin-Coated), while matte papers are what is often called fine-art papers. There are exceptions and hybrid papers that blur the lines, but keep these binary divisions in mind for now.

Coatings determine gloss levels. Glossy RC-papers have a polyethylene layer that seals the surface and prevents ink from soaking into the paper fibers. This results in higher contrast, deeper blacks, and more vibrant colors, making them ideal for high-impact photographic prints. Within glossy papers, we find variations like high-gloss, semi-gloss, pearl, satin, and luster finishes—all sharing the core characteristic of a smooth or lightly textured surface with strong reflectivity. Luster, or semi-gloss, strikes a balance — offering strong contrast while reducing glare.

Matte papers are, by definition, non-reflective. They use a different kind of coating — a textured surface that can range from smooth to heavily textured, much like watercolor paper. Matte papers can be either standard or premium fine-art grade, but what they all have in common is the absence of a plastic RC layer. They can’t be coated in the same way as glossy or luster papers, because doing so would flatten or mask their texture and make them glossy.

There are some exceptions. Baryta-coated fine art papers sit between glossy and matte, offering a semi-gloss surface without an RC layer — combining deep blacks and sharpness with the depth and feel of a textured paper. The baryta layer, widely used in darkroom printing, refers to a coating of barium sulfate (barite) in a gelatin binder applied to fiber-based photographic paper. It behaves more like a mineral-based, clay-like layer than plastic. Modern inkjet "baryta papers" often mimic the look and feel of traditional baryta, though they may use different minerals and coating formulas to achieve similar optical and tactile qualities. There are also RC-coated matte papers, which retain the durability of resin coatings while offering a non-reflective finish.

STANDARD VS. PREMIUM COATINGS

Let’s talk pricing — why are some papers cheap while others can cost ten times more? It mostly comes down to two things: the base material and the quality of the coating, especially how well that coating works with the ink. Premium papers use better bases like 100% cotton or alpha cellulose, which are more stable, durable, and archival. They’re paired with advanced coatings that hold ink at the surface, producing vibrant, crisp prints that resist fading over time. Cheaper papers, on the other hand, cut corners. They often use wood pulp bases and lower-grade coatings that may absorb ink inconsistently. Sometimes they work fine — but they can also fade, shift colors, or degrade within months. Gloss differential — where dark areas appear duller than lighter ones under certain lighting — is a more common issue with budget papers. This happens because lower-quality coatings can’t hold ink evenly across tonal ranges, leading to inconsistent surface reflectivity, especially in high-gloss or semi-gloss prints. Premium papers minimize this with more uniform, multi-layer coatings that maintain consistent gloss across the entire image. That might be acceptable for casual vacation prints, but it’s not reliable for professional use — especially not for commercial work.

Standard inkjet papers typically use swellable coatings or basic microporous coatings. Swellable coatings are common in lower-cost papers because they are cheaper and simpler to produce than microporous or nanoporous coatings. They use water-soluble polymers, which are less expensive than the materials required for more advanced coatings, and the result is well-suited for dye-based inks, which are widely used in many consumer and office printers.

Premium papers, by contrast, almost always use microporous or nanoporous coatings. High-end brands like Canson, Hahnemühle, and Moab often apply multi-layer microporous coatings that improve ink holdout, reduce gloss differential, and deliver deeper blacks (better Dmax) — especially with pigment inks. These advanced coatings are typically paired with superior base materials, such as 100% cotton or alpha cellulose, which enhance print stability and archival lifespan. Tuned for fine art and exhibition-quality output, premium coatings allow for highly precise pigment placement, faster drying times, and minimal risk of bleeding or dot gain. Basic microporous coatings, on the other hand, use larger or less-uniform pores and may show slight inconsistencies in ink absorption, leading to minor issues like gloss differential, uneven saturation, or less smooth tonal transitions. Cheaper papers also often include optical brightening agents (OBAs) for brighter whites, which can cause prints to discolor over time, which is why some ultra-premium fine art papers avoid them altogether.

Brands like Canson and Hahnemühle can offer paper that works exceptionally well with both Canon and Epson printers because their papers are designed with versatile, high-quality coatings that accommodate the differences in both printing technologies. The key lies in the advanced science behind their paper coatings and the adaptability of modern pigment inks used in both thermal and piezoelectric printheads. This type of coating is not tied to how the ink is delivered—whether through Canon’s thermal heat-based method or Epson’s piezoelectric mechanical method—but rather to the ink itself, particularly pigment inks. This versatility means photographers don’t have to worry about whether a certain paper will produce better results on a Canon or Epson printer; top-tier papers are built to deliver exceptional quality across the board. Advancements in coating technologies have also led to the development of papers with unique textures, providing artists and photographers with creative options such as unique surface finishes, from ultra-matte to metallic and even handmade textures.

Now let’s talk details — longevity. Two major factors that affect the lifespan of a print are acidity and the use of optical brightening agents (OBAs). Papers made from 100% cotton or alpha-cellulose are naturally acid-free and built for long-term stability. In contrast, papers made from wood pulp typically contain acid unless they’ve been specially treated — making them less suitable for archival use. Glossy papers are typically less archival than matte papers.

Glossy RC-based papers often rely on optical brightening agents (OBAs) and chemically active coatings to achieve a bright white base and reflective finish. These components can degrade over time, particularly under exposure to light, heat, or humidity, leading to yellowing, fading, or surface cracking. Even when labeled acid-free and OBA-free, the polyethylene resin layers itself remain vulnerable to oxidation and brittleness as they age. Under ideal storage conditions, modern RC papers can last several decades, but they still don’t match the long-term stability of high-quality cotton or alpha-cellulose papers.

Matte papers, especially those made from 100% cotton or alpha-cellulose, are typically free from OBAs and plastic resins, making them more chemically stable. Their porous, natural surfaces bond well with pigment inks, supporting fade-resistant, archival-quality prints that can last for generations.

That said, some premium RC papers are engineered with enhanced coatings that improve ink absorption, color stability, and surface durability. A few even include baryta-like layers that boost contrast and image depth. While these papers still don’t meet the full archival standards of fine art cotton papers, they can offer a respectable lifespan of 40 to 60 years when stored under proper conditions.

Furthermore, there are also functional coatings - to protect the print and improve handling, longevity, and display potential. Coatings are chemical solutions to problems that can’t be addressed by the base paper alone. These properties may be built into a single coating layer (think smoothie) or applied as additional layers on top of each other (multi-coated). Many premium papers include UV-blocking agents in the coating to reduce fading from sunlight or indoor lighting. This is especially critical for dye inks, which are more sensitive to UV degradation. Water resistance is built into microporous and nanoporous coatings, especially when paired with pigment inks, which are already water-insoluble. Some papers include a hard topcoat or a gloss optimizer-compatible surface that improves resistance to scratches and minor abrasions. Some coatings can reduce fingerprint smudges. Finally, there are anti-scanning coatings with embedded pattern that are applied to a paper surface that disrupts attempts to scan, photocopy, or photograph the printed content. Coatings turn an ordinary sheet into something with entirely different properties.

4. CLOSING THOUGHTS

This has been a long article, and I’m glad you’ve made it to the end. What I want to leave you with are a few final thoughts — not conclusions, not answers, just things to sit with. Questions without right or wrong. Just food for thought for your own reflection.

We’ve lost the meaning of print. Historically, a print meant an imprint — something pressed into or onto a surface. Stone, metal, or wood onto paper, textile, or another material. It was a physical trace of contact, a transfer of presence. Relief, intaglio, lithography, screenprinting — all involved physical interaction between matrix and substrate. That embodied process gave the print both material presence and authorship.

Today, when we say “print,” we usually mean something rendered line by line by a machine onto a surface — paper, vinyl, metal — with no trace of where it came from. What’s often lost is the simple, essential question: what is being printed, and on what? The type of ink and the type of paper rarely enter the conversation. Most people don’t think about what ink is being used, what paper it’s printed on, or how these choices shape the final image. That awareness mostly exists among photographers, printmakers, and collectors — not the general public.

The word “poster” has been hollowed out too. Historically, poster referred to silkscreen or offset printed works made for public display: promotion, propaganda, concerts, etc. Over time, the term has come to mean any cheap wall art. When you hear the word, you’re not meant to ask how it was made or with what materials — you just assume it’s cheap and disposable.

And by flooding the world with cheap, lifeless reproductions, we’ve devalued real printed art. A carefully made print now seems “too expensive” or “too much” next to a ten-dollar poster. Why pay more for something that looks similar at a glance? Mass-produced posters have lowered expectations of what art “should” cost. If a 50×70 cm poster is $10 at IKEA, then a hand-printed, pigment-based, archival photo print for $300 suddenly seems “expensive” — even though it's a different object entirely. This distorts public understanding of value in art and craft.

Posters have become the fast food of the art world — convenient, mass-produced, stripped of origin and meaning. Posters deliver instant visual gratification, mass-distributed, with no nutritional (or artistic) depth. They don’t nourish anyone except the businesses selling them.

The point is this: turning a print into art is a complex project. It involves a number of variables — the printer, the inks, the paper, the coatings, the framing — each with its own role in shaping the final piece. At one time, a photograph was by definition a print. But today, digital images have overtaken that meaning. The art print has become something of an exotic object — rare, unfamiliar, even misunderstood. We used to discuss art, to debate its meaning, its beauty, its place in the world. Today, we buy posters designed to blend effortlessly into our interiors. They match the furniture, fill the space, and they are silent, mute. They are cheap and safe. They’re there, but no one remembers them. Hollow. Shallow. Disposable. Empty calories that doesn’t do the job art is meant to do.

Prints aren’t old-fashioned, and they’re not a nostalgic cry for the past. In many ways, they’re more relevant than ever. They are a critical reflection on how language, production, and perception have shifted in the digital age. Prints are physical, and so are we. We live in a physical world. A print has weight, texture, presence — things a screen can’t offer. While screens flicker and vanish, a print stays and lives with you. It asks you to pause. It anchors the image in reality, in time. It’s not only a technical shift — it’s a shift in how we feel, connect, remember, and understand ourselves.

The Paper, Part 1: The Medium Of Art

This article will explore the origins of paper and its evolution through history. This section aims to provide a broad overview of papermaking processes, laying both the technical and philosophical groundwork for Part II. In the second part, we will dive into photo paper coatings and how they drive value in today’s inkjet paper market.

Paper seems so ordinary that we rarely stop to think about it. But for photographers, artists, and art collectors, it’s more than just a surface. It’s a medium that makes the art itself. Understanding the history of papermaking and how it led to the photographic papers we use today is essential.

When we pick up a new hobby or passion, we eagerly dive into the details that deepen our understanding: nutrition and supplements for fitness, audio quality for music, optics and lenses for photography. Yet, paper rarely makes the list. It’s so common and basic, that we assume there’s nothing more to know.

Yet the journey from pulped plant fibers to a finely coated photo paper is an extraordinary tale of innovation and adaptation. By weaving together the historical evolution of papermaking with the specific demands of photography, we can better understand why certain processes and materials were developed, how they influence quality and price, and why coatings have become such a crucial battleground in modern inkjet photo paper manufacturing.  

Without that knowledge, photographers and artists can’t make intentional choices in their craft.

Without that knowledge, collectors can’t fully connect with the medium that brings their favorite images to life.

Without that knowledge, we limit our development as artists or collectors, failing to recognize the creative expression and artistic legacy of papers. As a result, mediocre art gets produced and sold at a premium to unaware collectors. While really exceptional pieces go unnoticed, and true mastery remain undervalued. With more knowledge, this equation can change for the greater good, and raise the standard of art as a whole.

1.BEFORE PAPER: THE FIRST SURFACES FOR WRITING

People have been recording words and images on a variety of surfaces long before the invention of paper. If we exclude clay tablets, since they differ significantly from what we consider paper, then two of the earliest and most significant writing materials were papyrus, used in ancient Egypt as early as 3000 BCE, and parchment (or vellum), which emerged in the Middle East and Mediterranean around 2000 BCE.

Parchment is a general term for writing material made from animal skins, typically from sheep, goats, or calves.  Vellum is a type of parchment, but it is considered higher quality and is made from the skins of animals like sheep, goats, or calves, was particularly well-suited for scrolls. It could withstand repeated rolling, unrolling, and handling, making it ideal for religious texts and other significant writings that required durability. In short: All vellum is parchment, but not all parchment is vellum. Vellum is simply the premium version of parchment.

Papyrus, on the other hand, was made by slicing the stalks of the papyrus plant into thin strips, laying them crosswise, dampening them, and pressing them together. The plant’s natural sap acted as an adhesive, fusing the strips into a durable sheet. Once dried, these sheets provided a reliable writing surface that has survived for millennia in Egypt’s arid climate.

While often referred to as paper, papyrus is not “true paper” by modern definitions. True paper involves breaking plant fibers down into a pulp—a wet, soupy mixture of fibers and water—before reforming them into a sheet. In contrast, papyrus uses relatively unaltered strips of plant material. To illustrate the difference, think of papyrus as being made by pressing intact strips together (like potato fries or chips that retain their shape), while paper involves mashing the fibers into a pulp (more like mashed potatoes) before creating a sheet. Though not a perfect analogy, it highlights the fundamental difference: papyrus relies on unaltered plant strips, while paper depends on thoroughly broken-down fibers.

While both animal skin and leaves can be used for writing with minimal alteration, paper is a fully manufactured creation. You won’t find paper in a tree or a cotton plant—it doesn’t exist in nature. Unlike papyrus or vellum, paper demands a transformative process. It is the result of human ingenuity—breaking down raw fibers, refining them, and reshaping them into a surface designed to carry ideas, images, and expression.

At the core if it, paper making process involves breaking plant fibers down into their most basic components - cellulose. These fibers are separated and dispersed in water to create a pulp, a slurry of fine fibers floating in suspension. A screen is then dipped into this pulp, lifting out a thin, even layer of fibers. As the water drains away, the fibers settle and interlace naturally. When dried, this forms a unified and durable sheet of interwoven fibers, which we recognize as paper. 

The key to this process lies in cellulose, the structural component of plant fibers. Cellulose’s ability to bond and interlock when dispersed in water is what gives paper its strength and flexibility, distinguishing it from earlier materials like papyrus. This durability makes cellulose an excellent choice for papermaking, as paper can essentially be produced from any plant.

Now, before we continue, here’s a glossary of essential terms that will be important in the next section. This brief guide will help you understand the concepts and technical details ahead.

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KEY TERMS

Pulp. Pulp is a soft, moist, and fibrous material made by mechanically or chemically breaking down raw materials such as wood, cotton, or recycled paper. It is the primary substance used in papermaking, serving as the base from which paper fibers bond together when pressed and dried.In papermaking, there are two main types of pulp: Mechanical pulp: made by grinding wood logs into fibers. It is cheaper but produces lower-quality, less durable paper. Chemical pulp: made by breaking down wood chips using chemicals (e.g., in the kraft or sulfite process), resulting in stronger, higher-quality paper fibers.

Cellulose is the main building block in the cell walls of practically all plants and trees. It’s a strong, fibrous carbohydrate that gives structure to leaves, stems, and wood. The purest form of cellulose are cottonballs. Yes, raw cottonballs that are forever linked with slavery and industrialization are the purest form of cellulose. In practice, papermakers often use cotton linters (the shorter fibers left on seeds after ginning) or recycled cotton textile scraps, but the cellulose in cotton bolls is perfectly suitable for papermaking once seeds and other impurities are removed. The difference between a cotton boll and, say, a tree trunk comes down to how that cellulose is arranged and combined with other substances. Cotton bolls have fibers that are almost pure cellulose, which is why they’re soft and easily spun into threads. In a tree trunk, the cellulose fibers are much more rigid because they’re interwoven with lignin and other compounds that give wood its strength. Thus, both tree trunks and cotton rely on the same cellulose “building blocks,” but their forms and properties differ depending on what other materials—like lignin—are present and how the fibers themselves develop.

Lignin is a complex organic polymer found in the cell walls of many plants that essentially acts as a glue, binding cellulose fibers together and giving woody plants their strength and rigidity, but also giving the trees unique properties like flexibility, strength, or elasticity. On average, the wood (excluding bark) of most trees is roughly 40–50% cellulose and 20–30% lignin by dry weight, with the remainder made up of hemicellulose and other compounds. Hemicellulose is a group of complex carbohydrates found in plant cell walls alongside cellulose and lignin. They are made from a variety of sugar monomers and help fill in the spaces between cellulose fibers, providing structural support and flexibility in the plant. Some hemicelluloses are removed during chemical pulping and bleaching (especially when aiming for very pure cellulose), but not all. In many papermaking processes, a portion of hemicellulose remains in the pulp, helping with bond strength and other sheet properties. For specialty or archival-grade pulps, more rigorous chemical treatments can further reduce hemicellulose content, but it’s rarely completely eliminated. While it’s not always 100% eliminated, alpha-cellulose generally contains only minimal residual hemicellulose compared to ordinary pulp.

Fibers. In plant biology and papermaking, “cellulose” refers to the actual polymer—long chains of glucose molecules that form the structural backbone of plant cell walls—whereas “fibers” are the physical, elongated cells (often containing cellulose, lignin, and hemicellulose) that make up the tangible structure of wood, cotton, or other plant materials. Essentially, cellulose is the chemical substance that gives fibers their strength, while “fiber” is the broader term for the plant cells themselves. Think cells in human body as cellulose, and bones are fibers.

Rag paper. The terms rag paper, cotton paper, fiber paper, and rag cotton paper are often used interchangeably, but they emphasize slightly different aspects of the material. Rag paper specifically refers to paper made from recycled cotton or linen rags (textile scraps), which was the traditional source of fibers for centuries. Cotton or Fiber Paper is a broader category that includes any paper made from cotton fibers, whether those fibers come from rags, cotton linters (the short fibers left after ginning cotton), or virgin cotton sources. This term is common in contemporary contexts, especially in fine art or archival-grade paper. So while rag paper is a type of cotton paper, not all cotton paper originates from rags. Modern cotton papers are often made from linters (a byproduct of the cotton industry) rather than recycled textiles.

Alpha-cellulose is the high-purity, high-molecular-weight fraction of cellulose that remains undissolved when treated with certain alkaline solutions in the paper making process. Because it’s more chemically stable and contains longer, stronger chains than other cellulose fractions, alpha-cellulose is prized for uses like archival-quality papermaking and specialty products where durability and purity are critical. If alpha-cellulose is properly purified (meaning it’s free of lignin and acid) and the paper is buffered to maintain a neutral or slightly alkaline pH, it can match the archival quality of cotton-based “rag”-papers. Many archival-grade papers labeled “alpha-cellulose” have been processed to remove harmful impurities, so their longevity is effectively on par with cotton in most conditions. Cost wise they are on the same level as cotton papers, making them a premium segment.

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2. COTTON: THE FIRST 2,000 YEARS OF PAPER

The earliest records of true paper production trace back to China around 2000 years ago, where paper was initially used for administrative purposes, wrapping, and even padding for fragile items. No one knows exactly when paper was invented—we only know based on what has survived, and that it was in China. One of the oldest surviving examples of paper is a hemp paper fragment, dated to around 179–41 BCE, discovered in a tomb near Xi’an. This artifact predates the “official” invention of paper attributed to Cai Lun in 105 AD, which is still debatable.

Sometime around that time, Chinese craftmakers discovered that fibers from mulberry bark and hemp rags could be shredded, soaked, boiled, and beaten into a mushy pulp. This pulp, rich in cellulose, was the key to the process. When a fine mesh screen or sieve was dipped into the watery slurry, a thin layer of fibers would catch on the surface, bonding as the water drained. After pressing and drying, the resulting sheet was strong, flexible, and remarkably versatile. The innovation hinged on cellulose’s unique property of retaining strength even when wet, enabling the fibers to interlace and form a cohesive sheet. This paper was absorbent and worked well for the delicate brush techniques in Chinese art.

Over time, Chinese artisans refined the process, experimenting with fiber blends, optimizing the beating of the pulp, and incorporating additives like sizing agents or fillers to improve the paper’s texture and performance. These advancements laid the foundation for the papermaking techniques that would spread across the world in the centuries to follow.

After nearly 700 years of Chinese dominance in papermaking, a new hub emerged in Samarkand (in present-day Uzbekistan), a key crossroads on the Silk Road. This led to the development of high-quality paper in Samarkand, made from linen and hemp, which became highly prized. By around 800 CE, Baghdad had adopted and refined these techniques even further, establishing itself as a major center of paper production in the Middle East and advancing the craft to new levels of sophistication. These advancements spread rapidly through the Islamic world, which played a pivotal role in preserving and advancing the craft. Islamic scholars and artisans not only embraced the Chinese methods but introduced significant innovations, such as starch-based sizing to strengthen and smooth the paper surface, making it more suitable for writing. As Islam expanded, so too did the knowledge of papermaking, reaching North Africa and eventually Europe.

Papermaking arrived in Christian Europe through Spain and Italy in the 12th century, following the routes of Islamic influence. Europeans, who had long relied on parchment—made from animal skins—for important documents, found it both costly and labor-intensive to produce. Cotton paper, by contrast, offered an affordable and scalable alternative, renowned for its durability and archival stability. Beyond religious texts, the Islamic world used paper to produce scientific, medical, philosophical, and literary manuscripts, which later found their way to Europe and contributed to the Renaissance.

The invention of the Gutenberg printing press in the 1450s was a transformative moment for paper. It created an unprecedented demand for affordable writing surfaces and revolutionized Bible production, making paper indispensable for spreading Christianity and increasing literacy. To meet the soaring demand, paper mills quickly sprang up across Spain, Italy, France, and Germany, relying on cotton and linen rags as their primary fiber sources.  

Cotton-based paper can be made either from cotton linters (the fine fibers around the cotton seed) or by recycling old cotton textiles—hence the name “Cotton rag”.

When it comes to art, cotton papers were often used for sketches, drawings, and later for more finished works using watercolors. However, cotton paper wasn’t immediately compatible with oil painting, as oils would seep into the fibers and degrade the material. Instead, artists working with oils relied on wood panels or canvas, materials that could handle the heavier medium.

For roughly 400 years, there was little innovation in papermaking. Cotton and linen rags were the primary source of fibers for papers. Sheets were produced one at a time, and a skilled worker could produce 1,000 to 1,500 sheets per day. This labor-intensive method limited production scale and kept the paper pricing relatively high. Significant advancements came with the Industrial Revolution, which transformed papermaking into a faster, more efficient, and large-scale process.

In 1804, the Fourdrinier machine was invented. This revolutionary device introduced a continuous mesh belt that moved at high speed. Pulp was poured onto the belt, where water drained out, and the damp paper traveled through rollers that pressed and dried it, producing a near-endless roll of paper. The Fourdrinier machine increased papermaking speed by a factor of 100 times compared to previously manual methods and drastically reduced labor costs. This breakthrough made paper far more affordable.

3. FROM RAGS TO PULP: THE SHIFT TO WOOD-BASED PAPER

Handmade paper in the making: a vat of cotton pulp mixed with water, with wooden moulds and deckles ready to shape the fibers into sheets. This is essentially how all paper was made before the Industrial Revolution.

Though cotton rag paper was highly prized, it had one clear limitation: the supply of cotton. As literacy rates climbed, newspapers and books multiplied, and expanding bureaucracies demanded more written records, paper mills struggled to source enough rags to keep up with demand. Machines brought speed and efficiency, but scalability hit a wall—production was still limited by the availability of raw materials. The need for paper was growing, but the supply chain couldn’t keep pace.

This scarcity prompted scientists and industrialists to seek more abundant sources of cellulose, with wood emerging as the clear candidate. However, extracting cellulose from wood proved far more complex than simply tossing cotton scraps into a beater. The bark had to be removed, and non-cellulose components like lignin had to be addressed to produce a usable pulp. The early transition to wood-based paper required significant technological and chemical advancements within its first 100 years (1840–1940). The story of modern paper is the story of the Industrial Revolution and human inventiveness. It is a story of problem-solving—of overcoming material shortages, improving production methods, and pushing technology forward to meet the world’s growing demand for knowledge and expression.

Overcoming problem 1: using wood for paper making. Although wood is abundant, it is difficult to process into fibers suitable for papermaking without mechanical or chemical methods. Early techniques couldn’t efficiently break down wood fibers into a smooth pulp without causing brittleness. Yet it all changed in 1844, when Friedrich Gottlob Keller in Germany developed the first practical method for producing wood pulp through a mechanical grinding process, laying the groundwork for the mass production of wood-based paper. This breakthrough was soon followed by the development of chemical pulping methods, advanced bleaching techniques, and mechanized production systems. Together, these innovations transformed wood from a problematic and inconsistent raw material into the cornerstone of modern papermaking.

Overcoming problem 2: fragility of paper. Wood contains lignin, a natural binder that holds a tree’s cells together. While lignin gives trees their strength and flexibility, it becomes a major drawback in paper production. When exposed to light and air, lignin breaks down, causing paper to yellow and become brittle over time. This was a new problem that didn’t exist with cotton papers, which were naturally more stable and long-lasting. With the shift to wood pulp during the Industrial Revolution, the challenge was clear: how to remove or manage lignin to create durable, archival-quality paper. 

Early attempts to make wood pulp involved mechanically grinding logs into a slurry, known as groundwood pulp, which retained much of the lignin. This process produced a cheap, brownish paper suitable for newspapers or packaging, where longevity was not a concern. Since newspapers didn’t need to last forever, mechanical pulping was perfectly acceptable for these applications.

However, for books, stationery, fine art, and other high-quality uses, a purer cellulose pulp was essential. This is where chemical processes came into play. Methods like the sulfite process (developed in the 1860s) and the sulfate (Kraft) process (1879) used chemical solutions to dissolve most of the lignin while preserving the cellulose fibers. While rhe development of these methods took about three decades, the resulting pulp was not only stronger but also easier to bleach, enabling the production of brighter, more durable paper suitable for archival, artistic, and literary purposes. These innovations laid the foundation for modern, high-quality papermaking, ensuring that prints and books could stand the test of time. By 1880, chemically purified wood pulp overtook rag-based paper in volume. This marked a monumental shift in the industry.

Overcoming problem 3: Paper color and brightness. Once wood pulp became the standard for papermaking, mills faced another challenge: color. Natural wood pulp, even without lignin, often remained off-white or grayish, so producing a bright white sheet required bleaching.

By the 1920s, chlorine-based bleaches were widely adopted to whiten paper. While effective at brightening, chlorine treatments eventually raised environmental concerns, prompting mills to explore less harmful methods, such as chlorine dioxide (ECF) or oxygen-based bleaching (TCF).

Bleaching served a dual purpose: it not only brightened the paper but also helped remove residual lignin, significantly improving paper longevity by preventing yellowing over time.

From the 1840s to the 1920s—a span of less than 80 years—continuous advancements in pulping, chemical processing, and machine technology transformed wood pulp into a scalable industrial material. Mills produced massive rolls of paper on large, mechanized machines, revolutionizing paper availability and affordability for everyday use, newspapers, books, and office paper.

Overcoming problem 4: optimizing papers for graphics. By the 1950s, another need emerged - paper coating. As halftone and color printing grew, coated papers offered sharper images and more vivid colors. Manufacturers began to apply coatings made of clay, calcium carbonate, titanium dioxide, and binders that help the coating adhere to the base. This process would become critical in photography, since photographic prints depend on a well-prepared surface—either for hosting a photosensitive emulsion (darkroom papers) or for receiving microscopic ink droplets (inkjet papers).

Overcoming problem 5: environmental impact. The sheer scale of modern papermaking has a big environmental impact. Packaging, printing, writing, and sanitary products all compete for raw pulp. The rise of e-commerce has created a surge in demand for packaging paper and cardboard. With every order comes a box, filler paper, labels, and inserts. Most of which are used once and discarded.  

About 40% of the world’s harvested wood goes into paper production, half of this is used for packaging materials. A single ton of dry paper might require evaporating around two tons of water, requiring high-temperature steam or forced hot air.

Many paper mills today have adopted efficient water reuse systems, allowing mills to filter and recycle water multiple times, minimizing the strain on local water sources and protecting surrounding ecosystems. Additionally, many mills operate on a sustainable forestry model, ensuring that for every tree harvested, one or more are planted. Many also source their wood from FSC-certified forests, which are managed to promote biodiversity and long-term sustainability. 

Recycling can help reduce the strain, and many countries have established robust wastepaper collection systems. When used paper is sorted, de-inked, and cleaned, it can be turned back into pulp and reused. Each cycle shortens fiber length slightly, so eventually it needs mixing with virgin fiber to keep up strength. Still, higher recycling rates mean fewer new trees are cut, which can help preserve forests.

Using old clothes to create new rag paper seems like a natural solution, especially since cotton and linen rags were once the primary materials for high-quality paper before wood pulp became standard. In ancient times, people used old clothes, sails, and even wound bandages to produce paper—a true example of resourcefulness and reuse.

But today, rag paper production is a small market, held back by challenges in cost, labor, and fiber quality. Modern clothes are often made from blended fabrics (cotton mixed with synthetics), making them unsuitable for papermaking. Dyes need to be stripped, buttons and zippers removed, and fibers sorted by quality. Compared to wood pulp, recycling textiles into paper is labor-intensive and expensive.As a result, it’s simply cheaper and easier to dump old clothes into landfills than to recycle them into paper.

However, with growing demand for sustainability, some manufacturers are exploring upcycled textile papers, especially for art prints, luxury stationery, and eco-friendly packaging. If the push for closed-loop recycling continues, we may see more of these innovative papers in the future—turning textile waste into something both useful and beautiful.

Genuine photographic paper represents only 3-5% of total global paper production. Yet, environmental awareness influences photographic paper as well.  Alternative fibers like bamboo, hemp, and bagasse (from sugarcane) also see growing interest. Bamboo can yield more cellulose per acre than many tree species, making it relatively efficient. Hemp also grows quickly and has strong, long fibers. Esparto grass was historically used in Great Britain for printing papers, providing good opacity and smoothness. Each of these materials can help diversify the fiber supply. But none has displaced wood on a large scale, mainly because wood-based papermaking infrastructure is so entrenched, and supply chains for trees have been built up for over a century. The choices keep expanding, as paper mills develop new ways to reduce water use, recover chemicals, and minimize pollution. 

Unlike the other 4 major challenges in papermaking, the environmental impact of papermaking remains an unsolved problem. While there has been progress, the scale of waste, deforestation, and pollution from paper production is still significant, especially as packaging demand surges with e-commerce. This is the hardest problem to solve because it requires systemic change—from manufacturers to consumers, from forest management to waste management. Unlike the technical breakthroughs of the past, this challenge is about behavior, policy, and sustainable practices.

4. PAPER IN THE DARK: THE ERA OF PHOTOGRAPHIC PRINTING

Darkroom photo paper, a cornerstone of photographic printing, has its origins intertwined with art papers and printing techniques. While darkroom paper is distinct from traditional art paper in its chemical makeup, the two share a lineage rooted in the desire to preserve and present images with clarity and longevity. Papers remains the essential foundation upon which artists and photographers bring their visions to life.

Gradual improvements in papermaking during the 15th and 16th centuries opened the door to new artistic possibilities: printmaking. Cotton-based paper became the favorite choice for artists and printers. It was valued for its strength and even ink absorption.

Improvements in papermaking made paper smoother, stronger, and cheaper than ever before. Techniques like woodcut, engraving, and etching emerged. These methods required strong, durable paper that could hold fine detail and withstand the pressure of the press, even when wet. Cotton papers had these qualities. They ensured sharp, detailed reproductions, making them essential for artists and printers alike. In the late 18th century, lithography expanded artistic expression. It created new demand for smooth, high-quality papers. These papers were essential for capturing subtle tonal variations.

By the 19th century, early photographic prints, such as salt prints or albumen prints, were made by treating cotton papers with light-sensitive solutions. These darkroom papers had to be chemically stable, able to withstand prolonged immersion in developing baths, and capable of holding fine detail and tonal gradations.  As photography evolved, gelatin-based emulsions replaced albumen. Silver halide crystals dispersed in a gelatin layer introduced the classic silver gelatin process still known among film photographers. This new process involved several chemical steps: developer, stop bath, and fixer, followed by a thorough rinse. The paper needed to withstand repeated soaking without falling apart. A lot of coating layers and ability to withstand chemical exposure put another demand on photographic prints – heavy weight papers. Printmakers and watercolors artists had these papers, which photography industry gladly used too.

The search for better coating and improved image quality led to the development of baryta papers. The baryta layer, made from barium sulfate, was added between the paper base and the light-sensitive emulsion. This innovation offered several key benefits. It brightened the paper by creating a smooth, reflective white surface, enhancing highlights and overall image clarity. It also expanded the tonal range, producing deeper blacks (D-max) and richer contrast. Additionally, the baryta layer acted as a barrier, preventing the emulsion from soaking into the paper fibers. This not only improved sharpness but also preserved fine details in the image.

By the early 20th century, baryta-coated papers became the gold standard for darkroom prints. They laid the groundwork for modern fiber-based baryta papers, which are still used today in archival inkjet printing. These papers are prized for their lustrous tonal range and archival stability, making them a top choice for high-quality prints.

As photography evolved, so did the demands for new types of paper. Although fiber-based photo paper produced beautiful results, it had a significant downside: processing took a long time. The paper absorbed chemicals and water, requiring extended washing to prevent residual fixer from causing fading. Drying was slow, and prints could curl or warp if not dried carefully. Labs handling large volumes of prints sought a faster, more efficient solution. This need led to the development of resin-coated (RC) paper in the mid-20th century. 

RC papers became commercially significant in the mid-1970s. The innovation involved sealing the paper fibers between thin polyethylene layers on both the front and back. This design allowed the light-sensitive emulsion to rest on a plastic surface rather than directly on raw paper. As a result, chemicals couldn’t penetrate the paper base deeply during processing. Washing and drying times were dramatically reduced, and prints emerged with a consistent gloss. Labs could now handle larger print volumes without waiting hours for fiber-based paper to dry.

Finished prints could be produced in minutes, and the paper’s variety of surfaces—glossy, satin, or pearl finishes—made it ideal for everyday photography. RC papers were also cheaper to produce because they didn’t require expensive cotton fibers, unlike traditional fiber-based baryta papers. The polyethylene layers on both sides sealed the base, making it water-resistant and durable, even without the superior fiber strength of cotton. This lower production cost allowed RC papers to dominate the consumer market, especially for everyday photo prints and high-volume lab processing. By the 1980s, RC papers dominated both the consumer and commercial markets.

However, RC prints sometimes lacked the nuanced tonal range and subtle sheen of fiber-based baryta papers. As a result, collectors and galleries continued to favor fiber-based papers, a preference that persists to this day.

During these decades, darkroom papers diversified. Some were designed specifically for color printing, with multiple emulsion layers for cyan, magenta, and yellow dyes. Others specialized in black-and-white printing, offering varied surface finishes and tonal characteristics. Major manufacturers like Ilford, Kodak, Agfa, and Fuji competed by refining emulsion formulations, surface textures, and resin layers. Ilford, for instance, introduced variable contrast (VC) papers that allow photographers to change contrast using colored filters without swapping paper grades. This was a big convenience leap.

At the same time, smaller specialist brands emerged, catering to artists seeking unique looks such as warm-tone or cool-tone black-and-white papers. Even today, one can find fiber-based photo papers that are newly formulated for better blacks, or that incorporate less harmful chemistry. RC papers also continued to evolve, with improved polyethylene coatings that reduce color shifts and dryness issues.

Yet the fundamental difference remains: fiber-based tends to be the choice for archival, exhibit-quality black-and-white prints that some collectors pay high prices to own. RC is widely used in labs, schools, or quick-turnaround contexts. Many photographers appreciate that RC prints can look very good while costing less time and money. But for a purist who wants the hallmark “depth” and tangibility, fiber-based still stands supreme, bridging 19th-century tradition and 20th-century refinements.

Despite their differences, RC papers laid the groundwork for the development of modern inkjet printing papers. Their polyethylene coatings, surface textures, and focus on consistent, quick processing became the template for the archival, fine-art, and photographic inkjet papers used by photographers and artists today.

5. FROM LIGHT TO INK: THE RISE OF INKJET PAPER

As home computers and digital cameras proliferated, printing technology raced to keep up. By the early 2000s, inkjet technology had advanced to the point where home printers could produce semi-professional photo prints, leading to the development of the modern inkjet printing industry. Printer manufacturers raced to innovate in areas such as ink composition, ink types, printing heads, papers, paper coatings, and the software that controlled the printers.

The rise of inkjet printing created new demands for paper. Unlike darkroom prints, inkjet prints relied on tiny droplets of ink—either dye-based or pigment-based—fired through nozzles onto the paper. This introduced an entirely new challenge: controlling how those droplets spread. Without a specialized coating, ink would feather or bleed, producing fuzzy lines and dull colors.

The solution came from advancements in paper coatings, building on technologies pioneered in RC (resin-coated) papers. Just as RC papers sealed the paper fibers with polyethylene layers to prevent chemical absorption during darkroom printing, modern inkjet papers adopted specialized surface coatings to control ink behavior, maintain sharp detail, and enhance color vibrancy.

Two primary coating technologies emerged. Microporous coatings that contain minute pores that rapidly absorb the ink’s liquid, locking the pigments near the surface for sharper detail and faster drying. And swellable coatings that expand when they encounter ink, encapsulating the dyes or pigments within a polymer layer, which can enhance color vibrancy but dries more slowly.

Both approaches to inkjet paper coatings offered different advantages depending on the type of ink. Microporous coatings performed best with pigment-based inks, known for their longevity and fade resistance, while swellable coatings were more compatible with dye-based inks, offering deeper color saturation and a glossy finish.

Further innovations continued to improve the quality and durability of inkjet art papers. Some coatings included ceramic or silica particles, which enhanced color density and sharpness. To protect against fading from light exposure, manufacturers added anti-UV agents, increasing the paper’s longevity. Additionally, baryta-like layers reintroduced the deep blacks (D-max) and rich tonal range that photographers had cherished in fiber-based darkroom prints.

Thus, the inkjet industry built on the legacy of RC papers—adapting their layered construction and surface treatments to meet the demands of digital printing. Today’s fine art inkjet papers—often cotton-based with baryta-like coatings—offer a blend of traditional darkroom aesthetics and modern digital precision, making them a top choice for artists, photographers, and collectors alike.

SUMMARY: THE STORY OF PHOTOGRAPHY IS THE STORY OF PAPER

The evolution of photographic papers is a story of innovation built on the tradition of visual arts. It began with cotton fine art papers, prized for their strength, texture, and longevity, which had long been used for paintings, prints, and drawings.

When photography emerged in the 19th century, it borrowed heavily from the world of fine art papers. Photographers needed papers that could hold rich tones, sharp details, remain chemically stable, and last for generations. Cotton paper became the standard for photographic prints due to its strength and durability.

However, photographs required a light-sensitive surface, which led to the development of specialized coatings. Among these, the baryta coating became essential. It provided a smooth base for the gelatin emulsion and enhanced contrast and depth, producing the deep blacks and tonal richness we recognize in traditional black-and-white prints. 

However, darkroom printing had limitations. It was slow, labor-intensive, and chemical-heavy. As photography grew in popularity, labs needed a faster, more efficient solution. This demand gave rise to a radical new invention: resin-coated (RC) papers.

RC papers, introduced in the mid-20th century, revolutionized photo printing. By sealing the paper base between polyethylene layers, RC papers prevented chemicals from soaking into the fibers. This innovation made washing and drying much faster, allowing labs to produce high volumes of prints quickly. RC papers soon became the industry standard for consumer and commercial photography.

Surprisingly, RC paper technology became the foundation for modern inkjet papers. Inkjet papers borrowed the multi-layered coating approach from darkroom RC papers, adjusting it to control how tiny droplets of ink interacted with the surface. Microporous coatings replaced baryta layers to hold pigment inks and lock colors close to the surface. Swellable coatings were introduced to absorb dye-based inks, enhancing color vibrancy.

Now, with advances in ink formulations, print heads, and software, we have come full circle. Modern inkjet technology allows us to print on the same types of cotton papers used in the 1500s and 1600s, but with unmatched color accuracy, resolution, and longevity.

The legacy of fine art papers shaped darkroom photography, which gave rise to RC papers, and finally evolved into the modern inkjet papers we use today. Centuries of craftsmanship now meet the cutting edge of digital innovation, offering artists, photographers, and collectors an unparalleled range of creative possibilities.

SO, DOES PAPER STILL MATTERS?

Yeah, it’s a fair question. This wasn’t meant to be a deep history dive on papermaking. We only scratched the surface. So why bring any of this up then? Because paper matters, and I want you to see it differently, to really understand what’s behind every print, what makes it into an art.

First, to show you that the tradition of printing, which began in the 1500s, is still alive today—carried forward by modern inkjet technology.. We didn’t suddenly wake up to inkjet printers and glossy papers. It took 500 years of innovation to get here. Walk into any decent art store today, and you’ll see notepads and art papers that are almost identical to those used by artists centuries ago. This isn’t just nostalgia—it’s a triumph of human creativity and craftsmanship.

Despite all our technological progress, we haven’t actually come much further in papermaking. If it weren’t for the Industrial Revolution, which enabled the shift to wood-based papers, we would still be using cotton rag papers—and they would still be good enough. Cotton papers remain a superior material, prized for their strength and longevity. But without cheap, mass-produced wood-based papers, we would never have gained widespread access to books, knowledge, and education. It was mass paper production that democratized information and shaped modern society. Without it, we would not be where we are today.

Second, to show you that artistic expression and technological progress are inseparable.

We aren’t born photographers, painters, or printmakers. We respond to the tools of our time or push for new ones. Thousands of years ago, people wanted to create just as we do now. They painted on cave walls with burned sticks, then on the walls of their homes and religious buildings, and later on wooden tablets. But oil painting on canvas didn’t exist until canvas and suitable pigments were invented. Two hundred years ago, there were no photographers—not because people didn’t want to capture life, but because cameras didn’t exist. Inkjet printmakers are only a generation old because the technology is new.

Yet, through every era, the driving force has remained the same: the human desire to express, create, and understand the world. What photographers do today is what painters did centuries ago—they recreate the world through their art and, in doing so, seek to understand it more deeply.

People often credit business and industry for driving progress—money, after all, is seen as the vehicle of change. But without demand, money can’t be made. It’s artists who push society forward. They challenge the present, question the status quo, and inspire new possibilities by imagining alternative futures. Technology alone isn’t enough; it needs a bold vision to guide it.

And this brings us to why paper matters.

The value of a print is not in the paper itself. Paper is just a medium—it can’t perform magic. The true value of a print lies in what it can do that digital images cannot. A print can remind us of someone or something every day. It can calibrate our mood. It can motivate us to pursue our dreams. A print creates a real, physical presence in our lives. 

And yet, paper isn’t just a background. It’s part of the experience. It’s both the medium and the message. The right paper draws us in; the wrong paper pushes us away. A print is physical—something you can touch, view from different angles, frame, hang, or place anywhere you choose. It exists here and now because you brought it into your space. It didn’t just appear in your Instagram feed—you invited it in. And the objects we surround ourselves with shape who we are. Sure, a print won’t bark like a dog or purr like a cat, but its presence leaves an imprint. It becomes part of our space, our routine, our life—the life we choose. Getting a print is a choice, and like any art, its only purpose is to make you happy. That’s the power of printing—and why paper still matters.

And that brings me to my last point.

Paper itself is a product of human ingenuity. Papyrus was simple—just pressed plant fibers—but paper was something entirely different. It was a breakthrough: complex, refined, and revolutionary. Yet, we rarely stop to appreciate it. Paper surrounds us every day, but its diversity is astonishing. From brown shipping boxes to sleek Apple packaging, from soft tissue paper to glossy magazines, from passports and money to books, wallpapers, and gift wrap—it’s all paper, yet each type is engineered for a unique purpose. 

Inkjet papers are no different. They have their own technical standards—for ink absorption, color vibrancy, and archival stability. But the best papers go far beyond these basics. They represent a blend of art and science, giving photographers and artists a surface worthy of their work. And yet, if photographers fail to notice the difference between glossy paper and baryta, or if collectors don’t understand why cotton papers are more expensive than standard ones, we all lose something. We lose our connection to history.

Because art is more than technical mastery—it is about choice. It is about making a deliberate, conscious decision: to use one particular ink and not another. To choose this paper and reject all others. It is about having the conviction that only this combination will achieve the intended expression.

Non-artists may laugh at this. They may see artists as picky, impractical, even obsessive. But this is precisely how great art is made. It is not made by accident or boredom. It is made through a systematic approach—an attempt to understand the world through experimentation and refinement. In art, every choice is a variable in a hypothesis, and changing even one element changes the result. That is why materials matter. Paper matters. Ink matters. Every choice is part of the statement.

But art is more than just experimentation. It is about being in touch with something larger than ourselves.

People often say that humans have a deep need to connect with something greater than their own life. Some seek this connection through children, others through religion, politics, or community service. But art is also that lifeline.

Art connects us across time—all the way back to the first paintings on cave walls. It predates any known religion, political system, or social order. Art is a direct line to the most fundamental questions of human existence:

- Who are we?

- Where did we come from?

- Where are we going?

- What can we create in the short time we are here?

This is why art matters. And this is why paper matters. Because paper is more than a surface—it is a bridge. A bridge between past and present, between artist and viewer, and between ourselves and something timeless.

In fact, if you think about it—it’s not about paper at all.

A print on paper is a time window, and it goes far beyond its surface. In an age where everything vanishes into the digital void, a print on paper stands as something decisively permanent.

It can fade, age, and even crack. It can grow old, as we do. But it will never change what it depicts. It remains loyal to its original message.

And when you live with it, it becomes part of your space, part of your life.

One day, when you are 60, it will remind you of your ideals and ambitions from when you were 30.

- What else in your life does that?

- What else has the power to turn back the clock and show you your younger self?

- What else can remind you of your humanity—of time that has passed and of how little time remains?

- What else can remind you, so beautifully, of your mortality?

So, the next time you hold a print, pause.

Don’t just see the image. Feel the paper. 

Read about it. Learn its story.

Connect to 500 years of human invention, creativity, and passion.

Feel its permanence.

Because one day, you may forget your younger self.

But the print will remember.

A print is what shapes us, what moves us, what reminds us—

of who we were and who we still hope to be.

And paper is how we keep that promise.

Paper holds us accountable.

Because without paper—there is no print.

End of Part I

Now that you have some understanding of the history of paper, in Part II we will explore modern inkjet printing papers and their coatings.

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RESOURCES & NEXT STEPS

DO IT

Go to your local art store and check the notepads. Notice the brands—Canson, Hahnemühle, Fabriano, Arches—these same brands now make inkjet papers. Look at the purpose and texture of the papers: there are papers for acrylic, watercolor, markers, and calligraphy, each with its own feel. Inkjet papers offer the same variety—matte, glossy, smooth, rough, thick, thin, natural white, bright white. So what you ask? Well, it gives you are visual real-life confirmation that fine art inkjet papers come from a long tradition of quality craftsmanship. The same companies that have perfected papers for artists over centuries are now applying that expertise to inkjet printing. And just like choosing the right paper matters for painting or drawing, it matters for printing too. Texture, weight, and finish all affect how your image looks and feels - how inks are absorbed, how colors are rendered. Understanding this helps photographers choose the right paper to bring out the best in their prints. And it helps collectors visualize how an image might look on different papers and why that choice matters.

READ IT

1.Britannica has a great article with detailed information on papermaking. It’s a great starting point if you want to dive into the actual chemistry, machinery, and paper-making processes. I prefer it over Wiki’s much shorter version.

2.Book: On Paper: The Everything of Its Two-Thousand-Year History by Nicholas A. Basbanes. A fascinating dive into the history of papermaking, blended with the author’s personal experiences in papermaking workshops around the world. While the focus is on paper for books rather than photographic paper, there’s plenty for photographers and art collectors to learn. It’s well-written, insightful, and packed with engaging stories. Even if papermaking isn’t part of your everyday life, this book quickly pulls you in and keeps you hooked. It is available both as paper and e-book version.

3.Book: Paper: Paging Through History by Mark Kurlansky. This book is a great sequel to On Paper, offering a big-picture perspective on the invention of paper. Rather than focusing on how paper is made, it explores why, where, and when paper was invented and developed—and why it matters. It provides plenty of food for thought, especially if you already know the basics—another reason why On Paper is a great starting point. Anyway, this book is engaging, sharp, and provocative. It challenges how you see the world, technology, and human evolution. Available in both paperback and e-book formats.

4.Book: The Papermaker's Companion: The Ultimate Guide to Making and Using Handmade Paper by Helen Hiebert. A great book on making paper at home, using many of the same principles from pre-industrial papermaking. Even if you don’t plan to make your own paper, it offers a hands-on understanding of small-scale papermaking and helps you appreciate large-scale factory production and modern automation. Available in both paperback and e-book formats.

WATCH IT

1.Check this 11-minute documentary on traditional cotton art paper making in the UK, done entirely by hand. (The embedded link doesn’t show the video so use the link instead)

2.Did you know you can make paper at home from recycled paper? And it’s easier than you might think. The process is similar to commercial papermaking, but you start halfway since you’re using existing paper. This video shows you how it’s done.

3.Good video showing and explaining the complete process of modern papermaking on large scale.

4.Animated video of modern papermaking process.

5.A walk-through of a modern papermaking factory in Asia.

6.A walk-though of a traditional Korean manual papermaking process.

7.A short reel showing how Canson Infinity manufactures one of their premium cotton inkjet papers “Somerset Enhanced”, at St. Cuthberts Mill, England.

8. A team from the University of Iowa’s Center for the Book accomplished an impressive feat: making 2,000 sheets of handmade paper in a single workday in 2016, using traditional papermaking processes. Fun to see this level of dedication.

Guide to Quality and Size Options at NUDICCI

Whether you’re just starting out or building a serious collection we probably have something for you. Our artworks are designed to cater to different tastes, spaces, and budgets - from affordable professional prints to high-end premium pieces.

Traditional online print stores offer many options to let you have your perfect print: sizes, papers, passepartouts, frames, and glass types. This level of customization may be reasonable and well-intended, but all too often, too many choices create an overwhelming and frustrating buying experience. The decision-making is detracting from the joy of acquiring art. We take a different approach: one print, one product. Each piece is designed to be its best version, freeing you from unnecessary decisions.

Our Philosophy

Our approach is simple: we limit artwork options to only the best, helping you focus on the art. Through hands-on experience, we know which sizes, materials, and formats suit each image best. We’ve tested them. We’ve evaluated their visual impact. If an image shines in 3 configurations, we present 3 distinct products. In developing this system, we made several assumptions. We assumed collectors have a clear budget and intent - whether they want a large or small print, a premium or standard quality print. That’s why we offer only a few quality and size levels for each print. Now, let’s dive into the details.

1.Quality Levels

We offer three levels of print quality: Silver, Gold and Platinum. The quality level is set by the final product - so it’s not just about the paper, inks, or sizes but how they come together that defines the rating. This system provides clarity to customers while allowing for subtle distinctions in quality and pricing.

• Silver (think “professional”): prints done on high-quality professional print papers.

• Gold (think “premium”): Premium quality with enhanced papers and paper materials with museum quality standards.

• Platinum (think “prestige”): Top-tier craftsmanship designed for serious collectors and exceptional presentations. Each print paper has its own story and legacy.

By clearly defining quality levels and setting expectations, we aim to help you narrow your choice.

SILVER-level. This level is the perfect starting point for exploring the world of fine art nude prints. This tier offers an excellent balance of quality and affordability. The prints deliver great image quality without the premium price tag associated with more sophisticated archival fine-art standards. Silver prints are crafted on high-quality, professional-grade photo paper commonly used in photo labs worldwide and include glossy, semi-gloss and matt papers. Inks used in this level may be either pigment or dye, providing vibrant colors and sharp details, though these prints are not archival and may fade faster then the Gold and Platinum levels.

Consider this level if:

•     You're new to art collecting and want an affordable starting point.

•     You’re looking for reliable, functional prints without the need for archival quality.

GOLD-level.This level represents uncompromised quality—it’s the pinnacle of what true art prints are meant to be. Prints in this category are crafted on archival-grade cotton or other natural acid-free papers, meeting the same rigorous standards used in galleries, exhibitions, and museums. These papers exude luxury, offering a tactile experience that enhances the artwork’s visual and emotional impact, elevating it to a masterpiece.

Archival materials are specifically engineered to protect the artwork from damage over time. Every component, from acid-free papers to precision mounting techniques, is designed to preserve the piece for decades. Archival mats and boards are made from high-quality cellulose fibers, free from lignin and acids, ensuring that discoloration and damage are avoided. Additionally, these materials resist fading and ink bleeding, maintaining the artwork’s integrity and vibrancy. This level provides maximum protection from both physical and chemical harm, allowing collectors to enjoy their art for generations.

Consider this level if:

•     You're a serious collector looking for archival quality that can last many generations .

•     You value luxurious materials like cotton, washi, bamboo, or textured papers.

•     You want your artwork to feel high-end and sophisticated.

PLATINUM-level. Prints at this level are made for those who want their art to make a bold, unforgettable statement. These striking limited editions use exceptional materials—aluminum, plexiglass, rare high-end papers—that elevate the image far beyond the ordinary. These pieces serve as striking centerpieces, elevating both your space and personal style, and leaving a lasting impression on anyone who sees them. But the real value isn’t just in the technique or the surface. It’s in the story. Platinum prints are stories on the wall. If you’re looking for a piece that feels like a true work of art, this is your tier. It’s about depth, uniqueness, and that undeniable wow that stays with you or your guests.

Paper prints in this tier are created using award-winning, premium papers made from luxurious materials such as cotton, bamboo, hemp, or Washi. These exceptional papers come in a variety of textures, ranging from aquarelle-like finishes to ultra-glossy surfaces, each offering a unique aesthetic and tactile experience that enhances and complements the artwork’s visual impact.

Prints in this category adhere to the highest archival standards, featuring acid-free matting and materials that ensure longevity. With a lifespan of up to 200 years without fading, these prints are ideal for serious collectors who value timeless quality and preservation. Perfect for those who demand nothing but the best.

Buy Platinum level if:

•   You are looking for a WOW visual and tactile experience but that also stands out as a genuine work of art.

Gold and Platinum level prints come with a Certificate of Authenticity, confirming their status as true art prints. Every element—paper, surface, sizing, aspect ratio, and passepartout—has been carefully chosen to work in harmony with the image, ensuring the highest quality and artistic integrity.

Comparison of Silver, Gold and Platinum tiers.

TIP: Much of what sets different paper qualities apart is the tactile experience—how the paper feels in your hands. That’s hard to convey online. That’s why we offer sample packs, where the same image is printed on various papers, so you can compare and feel the differences for yourself. Currently, we offer Silver and Gold tier samples. There’s no Platinum sample for now, as Platinum is more about the uniqueness of each piece than a specific material.

2.Sizing Options

We offer everything from small 10x15 cm prints you can tuck into a drawer, to large statement pieces designed to dominate your wall. It’s important to know the exact size you’re purchasing, so we try to base our sizing on the ISO 216 system, where each next size level doubles the dimensions of the previous one. So for example A3 is double in size of A4, and A2 is equal to two A3s.

The sizes refer to the dimensions of the the printed area itself. For example, a 10x15 cm print (size XS) may be both a single A6 print or mounted in A5 frame. Typically, the passepartout is one size larger than the print—A6 is matted into A5, A5 into A4, and so on. This approach gives the image room to breathe and creates a clear separation from the background of the wall, enhancing its visual impact. 

The same image is printed in six different sizes, from A6 to A1. Note that these dimensions refer to the unmounted print size; once matted and framed, the final presentation can take up to 50% more space (think S-print mounted in M-frame, M into L and so on).

Here’s a breakdown of the different sizes we offer, and how they might fit your needs.

• XS/A6 (up to 10x15 cm or 4x6 inches): These tiny prints come either framed in a passepartout or as singles. They’re easy to store, fit into standard photo albums, and are perfect for displaying on a desk or bookshelf. If you’ve never bought an art print before, this size is a good way to dip your toes into the world of prints. You can even buy packs with different paper types to get a feel for each one.

• S/A5 (15cm baseline: 15x20 cm, 15x15 cm, 13x18 cm): These prints are about twice the size of XS, but still small enough to fit almost anywhere at home. As the image size increases, you start to see more details, and the paper itself plays a bigger role in how the print looks and feels.

• M/A4 (20cm baseline such as 20x30 cm, 20x20 cm, 20x25 cm, 20x28 cm): At this size (about twice the area of the S-size), the details in the print and the texture of the paper really start to stand out. These prints are ideal for hanging on the wall, best viewed from about 1 meter away. You can still store unframed prints in standard-sized albums, but they’ll also look great framed on display.

• L/A3/A3+ (30cm baseline such as 30x40 cm): This is where you start to get the real “art print” experience. The larger size means the image really pops, and the details and paper make a big impact. This size is meant to be framed and viewed from up to 2 meters away, giving your space a real gallery vibe. It’s the first size where you’re guaranteed to get that “wow” feeling when you hang it up in your room. This is also the last size where we offer prints in Professional quality - prints beyond this size are only available in Premium and Prestige.

• XL/A2 (40cm baseline, such as 40x50 cm): This size is common in museum exhibitions and galleries. These prints make a statement in any space but are still manageable in most homes—you can usually find space for one or two of these prints in your home. They’ll likely become a focal point in your interior and express your taste and passions.

• XXL/A1 and larger: These are the breathtaking sizes and a very bold statement. Think of them as life-size prints that really take over a room. If you hang one of these, it’s probably the only print you’ll need in that space. The impact is huge—models in the photos are practically life-size, making it feel like they’ve stepped into your room. Due to their enlarged size, only a small number of images can be printed in that size and still look perfect, hence the selection if very limited. Please note, these prints might require special handling and shipping.

Print size vs frame size. All physical things take up space, and with prints, that’s an important consideration. Print size refers to the actual printed area, while frame size tells you how much space the artwork will occupy on your wall once framed. For example, a 10×15 cm print is small enough to fit in albums, shoeboxes, or stand easily on a shelf or table in a simple 10×15 frame or acrylic stand. But once it’s mounted in an A4 passepartout, it takes up much more space and requires a proper frame. Clearly, a beautifully mounted print demands more room, but it also carries far more impact than one kept tucked away in a shoebox. You’re trading compact storage for greater visibility and presence.

Once you move up to A3 size, both storage and display become more challenging. An unframed A3 print has roughly the same surface area as 8 x 10×15 cm prints. When framed, it can take up the equivalent wall space of around 12 x 10×15 cm prints. So while a dozen small prints might easily fit on a wall or in a box, a dozen framed A3 prints demand a whole lot more room and quickly become a matter of available wall space.

A2 prints are even larger - double the size of A3 and require a lot more room. Most home will only have space for a couple of A2 prints. These become the pillars of your collection, setting the tone and style for everything else around them.

A1 or larger prints are a different story altogether. These are rare, bold, and take up a lot of space. Unless you live in a mansion or have a dedicated gallery wall, it’s hard to make room for more than one. And large sizes come with their own challenges. They’re not just harder to ship—they can also be difficult to fit through elevators or doorways. So while these formats can be visually striking, they’re often impractical for most everyday living spaces. That’s part of the reason many high-end, expensive prints come in these large formats - they’re made with a specific kind of buyer in mind: institutions, galleries, or wealthy individuals with the space to properly display them. These prints aren’t just art pieces - they’re statements, often meant to dominate a room.

TIP. Before you commit to any print, consider taking a trip to your local frame store to check out the sizes of the frames in person. This will give you a much better idea of what to expect and help you visualize how different print sizes will look in your space. As print sizes increase, orientation also plays a role. Large horizontal images tend to be easier to fit than large vertical ones.

3.Passepartout and Frames

Unframed, matted, and framed prints of the same image.

We sell most of our prints mounted in a passepartout, ready to be placed in a frame of your choice. Many times, the difference between an amateur print and a professional art print is in its presentation. Passepartout is that “fancy” presentation that sets its apart from a home print. But passepartout is not just an artistic choice; it also serves a protective purpose, keeping the print safe from direct contact with the glass and helping to preserve its quality over time.

Normally, passepartout is about one size larger than the print, or have a border of about 5cm. In some cases, a passepartout two sizes up can be used, such as a 10x15 cm print matted into an A4 passepartout. This wider border, which is about 10cm, is typically used for smaller prints to give them a more “important” and focused appearance. Many museums also use oversized passepartouts, where the generous white space helps draw the viewer’s focus to the artwork and sets it apart from the surrounding wall.

The same size image can feel very different depending on the passepartout width. A one-size-up mat with a 5cm border gives the print a clean, balanced presentation. But a two-sizes-up mat with a 10cm border creates more breathing room around the image, drawing the eye inward and giving the work a more elevated, gallery-like presence. The extra space can shift the mood from casual to refined, even when the image itself stays the same.

Passepartout color and framing can dramatically influence how we perceive an artwork.

Frames? We sell most of our art unframed. Many collectors already have a preferred framing style, so it doesn’t make sense for us to offer every frame for every use case. Our goal is to make high-quality nude art more affordable. By removing frames, we lower costs and pass the savings on to you. This also gives you the freedom to choose a frame that fits your space—and often at a better price than we could offer. If you are new to framing, read our guide to framing and glazing for your new art.

4.Putting it all together.

If you haven’t already, make sure to check out our full guide to buying prints once you’ve finished this article. In short, start by imagining what your ideal collection could look like. What sizes do you actually like, can afford, and have space to display? What kind of prints do you want to focus on in terms of quality, materials, and style?

Knowing these things ahead of time makes choosing much easier. Think of it like walking into a shoe store already knowing your size and what you need the shoes for—suddenly, most of what's on the shelf becomes irrelevant, and your options are clear. It might sound overly simple or a bit too practical, but it’s a helpful exercise. To get started, here are three tips that can help you in your thinking.

1.Start Small. We don’t recommend starting with the most expensive piece you can afford—it might not be what would make you happy. Just because something is premium and costly doesn’t mean you’ll fully appreciate it - you might need to grow into it. In our experience, the best way to start appreciating art prints is by acquiring smaller pieces first. Sometimes going for the highest quality small print is the smartest approach. This allows you to experience the quality of the paper and craftsmanship firsthand. If you love it, you can confidently go bigger with your next purchase selecting similar type of paper/quality level. Eventually, aim to own your largest artwork in the highest quality you can afford. Size matters, and the quality will shine and become a signature piece of your home. But do not overpay, unless you know exactly what you are getting.

To let you explore the levels and papers we offer sample print packs in XS sizes, featuring the same image printed on a variety of paper types. These sets are designed to show how the ink and image interact with different paper types, allowing you to see how each paper affects the final look and feel of the artwork. It’s a perfect introduction to the core of printing craftsmanship, helping you make more confident and informed choices as you build your art collection.

2.Have a goal for your collection. Have a plan for what you want to collect. Buying random pieces in various sizes and quality levels is rarely a good strategy. Do your research and think about the collection you want to build. Is it going to be around one specific model or photographer? Is it a special visual style that you want to focus on? Is it size, materials ore ranting technique that appeal to you? Remember—any plan is usually better than no plan at all. It’s very easy to spend a fortune on art and still end up with random pieces rather than a well thought collection. Value your time and money - take the time to plan how you want to spend them.

3.Accept that some of your initial purchases may not be your best. Most certainly, your tastes and budget sensitivity will evolve over time, and you might eventually sell or give away some of your earlier pieces. If your tastes don’t evolve, you probably didn’t buy art that truly resonates with you in the first place. The most important thing is that art should make you happy - it has no other purpose than this. But art buying is also a risk. If you find yourself constantly thinking about how much you paid for a piece, that’s usually a sign you overpaid - take it as a signal and learn from it. But if you look at it and feel like your home wouldn’t be the same without it, then you’ve probably found the right one. In that case, the feeling it gives you - the dopamine, the quiet rush every time you see it was worth every cent.In the end, art is about the journey and the personal connection it creates. It should reflect who you are, inspire you, and bring you joy.