The Quiet of Making
Long Read
The why
After more than 30 years in photography, I realised I had lost something that used to be an essential part of making a final piece: the involvement of my own hands. Back in the days of analogue photography and the darkroom, making a print was a physical process. Somewhere along the way, that changed. Making a print became a matter of pressing Enter and watching the printer produce another identical copy. No thrill, no excitement, no real sense of making something. It felt boring. I was missing the most important part: making the final piece, the one that would eventually hang on the wall.
After years of following and learning the rules of photography, I came across an interesting video by Martin Osner, who runs an art academy in South Africa. At one point, while explaining fine art, he says that photography doesn’t necessarily have to come at the beginning of the process. It can enter at any stage in the making of the final artwork. That sentence turned everything upside down for me. It unlocked something in my creative process. I started breaking the rules I had spent so many years learning. That doesn’t mean those years were wasted. After all, to break the rules, you need to know what they are and what you’re breaking. All the experience I had gathered was still there, but I began using it differently, turning it inside out. My thinking shifted from simply taking an image and printing it to questioning every stage of the process. What do I print on? How do I make a piece? How do I present the finished work? I began treating all these ingredients as parts of a process that didn’t have to follow a fixed order. I could change one, then another, combine them or go back and start again.
The process was no longer linear, as it had been before.
Why should it be?
An experimental approach
This is an experimental approach to photographic printing. Handmade papers, applied textures and changes to the printing surface introduce irregularities. Light and time no longer rest on the surface; they move through it. The process is unpredictable by nature. Results can vary considerably, even when the same materials and methods are used. This uncertainty is the part I like most, but it comes with practical limitations and risks. Photographic printers are designed to work with specific papers, coatings and thicknesses. Introducing handmade or treated surfaces can cause feeding problems, contamination, blocked print heads or damage to internal components. In some cases, the cost of repair may exceed the value of the printer. Also involves accepting the possibility of failed prints and wasted materials. The aim is not simply to find a way to make the printer work, but to understand how the material, the ink and the printing mechanism interact.
These methods should be approached carefully. A printer being damaged beyond economical repair is a genuine possibility.
Understanding the printer
In theory a printer deposits ink onto many surfaces that can pass through its printing mechanism, provided they meet the limitations of the particular model. Some printers can accommodate rigid or thicker media, while others can handle textiles, canvas, translucent papers and a range of specialist materials. The printer itself operates according to its settings and the information it receives from its drivers, sensors and the media settings selected by the user. Depending on the model, these systems monitor factors such as paper size, thickness, feed position media type and other things. Printers are designed around assumptions about the materials they handle. Experimental printing begins when those assumptions are pushed to their limits and beyond. There are ways to work around some of these restrictions, but doing so requires an understanding of the printer, its feed mechanism and the material being introduced. Bypassing a restriction does not necessarily make the process safe. In the following sections, I will explain my process while keeping certain details to myself. These include modifications I have made to the hardware. These modifications will invalidate the manufacturer’s warranty and could render your printer unusable. However, you can still follow the process and experiment with the materials without making any hardware modifications.
Paper and the printing surface
Every paper has its own characteristics. Papers designed for high-end fine art printing come in a variety of finishes and weights. Some are printable on one side, while others are coated on both sides. If you are looking for consistent results, accurate soft-proof matching, maximum sharpness and fine detail, high-end fine art papers are the best choice. Established manufacturers carefully control the composition of their coatings, the amount applied, the surface characteristics and the thickness of the paper, among many other factors. This consistency allows for predictable results and a much closer match between what you see on screen and the final print. A printer can deposit ink on many surfaces, but how that surface interacts with the ink, affects the appearance of the image and influences the longevity of the finished artwork. Moving beyond conventional fine art papers means moving beyond predictable results. An uncoated, textured or untreated surface may absorb ink unevenly, allow it to spread, or produce unexpected variations in tone and detail. It will also compromise the print’s archival properties, which is a particularly important consideration for me.
A sheet of paper
The choice of paper is much more than just the physical support. Its texture, absorbency and structure all influence how the ink settles and how the final image develops. It can be almost any kind of paper: ordinary office paper, thin Japanese paper or rough, heavy handmade paper. The main requirements are that it remains flexible enough to pass through the printer and does not exceed the thickness limits of your particular printer model. The surface is another matter. I apply InkAid coatings to control pigment bleed, improve how the ink behaves on the paper and help create a stable, archival-quality surface. The paper should also be acid-free to reduce the risk of deterioration over time. When I use manufactured paper, I pull one authentic sheet from a box of thousands. But when I make the paper myself, the creative process begins much earlier. Each sheet becomes an individual piece, sometimes cut from a larger one, sometimes assembled by stitching together smaller leftover pieces before coating and printing. In a way, I slowly sculpt the paper itself.
There are limits, of course. The thickness cannot stray too far beyond that of the heaviest fine art papers designed for printing, although I sometimes push it further. That is when things can get interesting, and not always in a good way. Your printer can suddenly sound more like a paper shredder than a printer. That noise sends shivers down your spine. If you hear the print head rubbing against the surface, take it seriously: you could be looking at an expensive repair, or even a new print head.
Coatings, paper and experimentation
I’m not sponsored by InkAid, although I wish I were 🙂. I simply like their products. They offer a range of coatings with different characteristics, made for experimentation. The possibilities depend on how you use them and how far your imagination takes you. The results are rarely identical. Even when printing the same image, the surface can produce a different outcome. There is nothing to stop you combining gloss, matte and silk finishes on a single sheet, creating variations on the way light interacts with the image. My process is constantly evolving. Experimentation involves plenty of failures, and it can become costly. But every failed attempt teaches me something, often leading to a discovery I can use in future work. I see failure not as a dead end, but as a challenge to understand what went wrong and what might work next. And it doesn’t have to end with printing. There is nothing to stop you from adding further layers to the surface. If you paint, paint over it. Try acrylic gels, wax or varnish. Soak it in coffee, (I’ve never tried it; the paper might fall apart). What I’m trying to say is simple: make it your own. My process is just one approach, not a set of rules. Experiment, take risks and find your own way. Mine is not the only way.
Making It your own
Many artists who see my work ask the same questions: How do you do it? What do you use? Would you explain your process? I’m always happy to share and explain, but this isn’t a process you can sum up in a 15-second Instagram Reel. Its key ingredient is passion, along with time, patience and a willingness to experiment. This is not something I have invented from scratch. Many artists work with alternative and experimental printing methods. I have read, watched, learned from others and taken parts on board, then adding my own spices and pushing the process further. It has taken time, trial and error to reach where I am today, and it continues to evolve. How far you take it is up to you. How much failure, waste, disappointment and risk are you willing to accept along the way? I feel this knowledge is worth sharing. Rather than offering a fixed recipe to reproduce my results, I want to share the materials, resources and principles that have helped me along the way. Take them, experiment with them and make them your own. There is little point in following my path exactly when you can find one of your own.
Preparing the paper
Sometimes I have leftover pieces of paper that I glue together to make an A3 or A4, any standard size sheet. I use acid-free glue for this. Once assembled, the sheet needs to dry under weight for at least a day. Drying is very important. Further layers will be added, and avoiding trapped moisture between them is essential. Make sure the sheet is thoroughly dry before moving on to the next stage.
Applying the coating
Once the paper is dry, it is time to apply the InkAid emulsion. There are several types available, including gloss, matte, iridescent and transfer coatings, among others. I highly recommend ordering samples and experimenting on small pieces first. See how each coating behaves on your chosen paper and decide what works best for you. I apply my preferred coating with a brush, recently switching to a silicone brush. There are other options. I have seen people use metal bars to achieve a very smooth finish, while others prefer sponge brushes. Different application methods produce different results: some leave texture and irregularities, while others create a more uniform surface. It all depends on the effect you are after. I apply at least two coats, allowing each one to dry thoroughly for at least a day before applying the next. At this stage, the paper needs to be handled with greater care. Keep it away from dirt and other contaminants, especially grease. Contamination can interfere with the coating and affect how the ink behaves when printed. Take your time. The preparation of the surface is just as important as the printing itself.
Flattening paper
At this stage, the paper may have warped or deformed quite badly. Unfortunately, printers don’t appreciate uneven sheets, so you need to find a way to flatten them before printing. I have used an iron in the past. If you try this, use heat only, with no steam. It is a rather forceful method, and I no longer use it. These days, I prefer a slower approach. I place the sheets between mount boards and put them under the carpet. Yes, under the carpet! It might sound funny, but it works for me. The aim is to get the paper as flat as possible without damaging the surface or the coating. Make sure the coating is fully dry before flattening.
Trimming and preparing the feed sheet
Because this is handmade paper rather than an industrially produced sheet, getting it through the printer reliably can be tricky. One option is to make a carrier sheet. Place your handmade paper on top of a standard A3 or A2 sheet, using the dimensions appropriate for your printer and feed method. Leave around 1–2 cm of the underlying sheet exposed on all four sides, then secure the handmade paper along its edges with thin tape. This creates a carrier sheet to help guide the paper through the printer. Another option is to trim the handmade paper to the exact dimensions of a standard A3 or A2 sheet and feed it directly. However, the irregular edges and uneven surface of handmade paper may interfere with the printer’s sensors. Some emulsions also stiffen the paper, creating additional feeding problems. Whichever method you choose, pay particular attention to the first 2 cm of the sheet, especially the leading edge that enters the printer first. It needs to be as even, clear of any marks and as flat as possible. If the edge is uneven, damaged or poorly aligned, the printer may reject the sheet before printing begins, or even worst, will start printing on wrong margins, position… Plan your image placement carefully, too. The image should preferably fall entirely within the boundaries of your handmade paper, rather than extending onto the carrier sheet underneath. Check the paper dimensions, margins and alignment before sending the job to print. Yes, it can be a painstaking process, but it is doable. Give yourself time to experiment and work out a method that suits your paper and printer. It gets easier with practice, but, as I said, it takes time to figure things out.
Inspecting the surface
Before printing, carefully inspect the paper for raised or protruding areas. Even if the sheet feeds correctly, a raised section may come into contact with the print head. Repeated passes can leave black marks across the surface, potentially ruining the entire piece. As you can see, we are working with a single sheet of paper, so take care at every stage of its preparation. Once the image is printed, there is no going back. You cannot simply undo it and start again on the same sheet. Make friends with that single sheet of paper and treat it with care. Preparing one can take two or three days, so considerable time and effort have already gone into it before you even begin printing. As you gain experience, you may find yourself preparing several sheets in batches, making the process more efficient. But don’t forget that if a print fails, you lose not only the finished sheet but also all the work that went into preparing it. On top of that, there is the ink, which isn’t cheap either.
Ink and longevity
I use a pigment-based printer, mainly for the longevity of the finished print. Pigment inks generally offer excellent light resistance and archival stability.
What comes next?
The next stages depend entirely on the result you want. You might retouch the print, paint over parts of it, apply varnish or other coatings, or simply leave it as it is. As I mentioned earlier, this is an ongoing process of experimentation, and there is no single way to finish a piece. I don’t want to make it sound easy, because it isn’t. It takes time, patience, experimentation and money. The beginning can be frustrating enough to make you want to give up entirely, and that’s OK, too. This approach isn’t for everyone, nor is it meant to be the right way. For me, the point is not simply to produce a different-looking print. It is to be involved in making the final piece, to make decisions along the way and to allow things to happen that I could not have entirely planned or predicted. Sometimes the result works, sometimes it doesn’t. Both are part of the process.
I hope these pages give you enough to start experimenting, should you wish to. Take what interests you, leave what doesn’t, and don’t feel you have to follow my methods exactly. The materials and resources are there to explore, not to provide a recipe.
My way is simply one way. What matters is finding yours.
Thank You