Welcome to the 4th newsletter of June. Yes, June came and is about to go that quick. This week is usually a newsletter reserved for those of you that support us with a paid subscription, Thank You. Due to many constraints, travel, injury, etc., we put out the DIY newsletter in week three instead of the usual week two. So… I didn’t want to put out two paid-only newsletters in a row. Consider this one as brought-to-you by those that kindly help us keep the lights on.

There’s a little nugget that I slipped in the Camera Bags Are A Trap post a couple of weeks ago. Remember I described my own way out of the trap by venturing out camera and lens only with a few items in a pocket? Did you notice I immediately reverted to “carrying a small Domke FX5” bag too? What a back-slip so quick, huh? It happens every time…

I kinda made a self-mocking joke of myself before that with the proposed fixed-lens camera, and then all of a sudden you need a bag to fit the other-other focal length version of that fixed-lens camera. I was joking but not entirely. Looking at myself, I did that, sort of. I did the Fuji X100 fixed 35mm thing... I did a few camera-only, no-bag trips. Every single time I was happy. Then came the nagging little voice. But if I only had a little wider and a little longer, then, then, then, there would be peace on earth. Well, at least peace in my cluttered mind.

Welcome to the genesis of the Domke FX5 that survives to this day. My security blanket that allows me to bring that extra-extra battery and of course that extra lens of any kind and focal length that assuages my anxieties. The first time it was stuffed with X100 lens adapters that after two uses proved to be a far worse, far more fiddly, solution than my Fuji X-Pro 2 with the OG 18mm f/2 and 35mm f/1.4.

Of course, that evolved into a digital Leica M and thirty-two ways to carry a 28mm and 50mm. Problem solved. Right? Heck, that little Domke bag is constantly re-imagined with a bunch of small digital and film solutions that fit the mood all the time for more than a decade now. Of course, on any given day, it’s usually a 28/50 combo, my desert island team.

If we fast forward a bit, we have a bit of a different situation that presents itself. There are two cameras, actually four, that are back to that fixed-lens no-bag dream. Of course, I’m talking about the Leica Q3 and the Ricoh GR III/IV cameras. The reason the situation is new is fueled by two interrelated technologies. The first is better, higher resolution sensors along with really good super resolution upscaling built into Lightroom. Obviously, the Q3 wins by a mile here, except for price and compactness.

Pretend you are me and 28/50 is your go-to combo for the entire world. I could ditch the bag completely, yes even the little Domke. Buy the normy 28mm Leica Q for a similar price to getting an equal quality 28mm for my M and use the in-camera crop to happily view a digital simulation of 50mm crop lines. Even without the super-resolution upscale I’d be fine shooting at the cropped 50mm. Right? I could do the same thing with the normy Ricoh and maybe be fine having that super-resolution in my back pocket. Heck I could do both GR’s, the 28mm and 43mm versions and still go no-bag for less money… but I wouldn’t. I really couldn’t live constantly with no viewfinder and fiddly little controls and I already know I really like the “full-frame” look a lot at f/2 rather than f/2.8 and half-frame.

So, in all seriousness; I want to hear from all of you that have thought this through lately. What conclusions have you come to? Have any of you pulled the trigger on the Leica Q3 with similar thoughts? How about the Q3 43? I especially want to hear from all of you landscape photographers. Is the Q3 capable? Is the Q3 43 wide enough??? It certainly has the sensor chops. The controls seem great. I know both of those fixed lenses leave very little on the table.

I guess if I end up choosing the wrong one, there’s always the trusty Domke FX5 that will come to my rescue to hold the other version. Here we go again. I hope not.

Attend A Free Webinar About Black & White Photography

Les is giving a live presentation about Black & White photography in the context of printing tomorrow night at 6:30PM EST. This is being hosted by The Maryland Photography Alliance. You can register and view for free.

Advanced Awagami Printing & Display

Awagami inkjet papers are a specialized medium for producing fine art digital prints. The range runs from subtle matte papers to highly textured dramatic papers. The papers also run the gamut from ultra-thin to extremely thick. The key to utilizing these unique and beautiful materials is matching the paper to a photograph and artistic vision that work in harmony.

This day-and-a-half hands-on workshop will result in two completed mounted Awagami fine art prints on two of Awagami’s most distinctive papers that best represent your artistic intention. More importantly, the experience with the selection, discernment, and realization of other participants’ art will be invaluable as you move forward using Awagami materials for future projects. We start preparations for this workshop before you come with a one-on-one review of images you have in mind for final mounted prints.

Details and registration are on the LPFA website. Take a look. If you have questions shoot us an email or leave a comment. You can also take a look at our first Advanced Awagami workshop.

Travel season has officially started, as anyone boarding a flight or driving down the road can attest to. For photographers, a lot of our work typically revolves around travel; iconic locations, destination photo locations, unique street iamges, portraits of indigenous people and much more.

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A photograph is nothing until it is printed.

Until then, it is data. Light captured and stored in a pattern, waiting.I am a photographer working out of a studio in Alkmaar, in the Netherlands. For about fifteen years I have built bodies of work, mostly in black and white, that end up as books, gallery shows, and prints on collectors’ walls. Portraits. Travel series. Slower studies made closer to home. The medium shifts, the geography shifts. The destination stays the same. The work ends on paper.

It has to. That is the part of the practice I have come to understand most clearly. During a shoot, I am already building the image in my head. Sometimes I know, while we are still in the studio, that we have made something that will hold. But I almost never see the work before it has been printed. I see the digital file. I edit, sit with it, sequence it next to others. And then, often months later, the prints arrive at the studio, or I walk into a gallery on the morning of an installation, and I see them for the first time.

Every time, it lands.

The depth of the print, the richness of the tonal range, the way the image suddenly has weight. None of it was in the file.

I do not print my own work. I have a print lab that has been printing for me for fifteen years, and they are masters of their craft. People have talent for what they do. My talent is making pictures. Printing is its own discipline, its own lifetime of decisions and refinements. I leave it, gratefully, to someone who has chosen it as theirs. We barely make test prints anymore. In fifteen years, it has almost always gone right the first time.

The lab itself is a small space on the second floor of a building. Sterile, deeply organized. Prints and tests laid out everywhere you look. You can feel the focus in that room, the energy of printing as a practice. When we do test, it is because we are pushing into something new.

The paper I use for almost all of my regular work is Innova Baryta. It is the digital descendant of the baryta paper used in the darkroom, the same paper that defined so many of the photographs I grew up admiring. I chose it for its structure and its tonality. The old baryta prints have something I have never stopped chasing, and Innova Baryta is, for me, the closest a modern archival pigment print can come to that feeling. Everything is printed on Epson, archival pigment, on a paper that remembers what photography used to look like in the hand.

That choice was an intention. It was one of the defining decisions in the life of the work. The image is mine, but the object the viewer eventually holds, or stands in front of, is shaped just as much by the paper as by anything I did in the studio. The paper is part of the work.

Something larger presses against all of this, and it is why print matters now. We see something like a hundred images a day that leave nothing behind. A print stays. It hangs on a wall and ages with the room. It catches the light of one particular hour, the eye of one particular person, again and again, over years.

That permanence has become rare. We live inside a culture where almost everything we look at is designed to be replaced within seconds. Images come and go in the same breath. Nothing settles. And something in us notices.

Collecting, for me, is what happens when a person decides to live with an image instead of passing through it. You hang a print on a wall and see it every morning, every evening, in a hundred different lights. You age with it, and it ages with you. The work becomes part of the architecture of your days.

That choice is, at its root, a longing. A longing for presence in a world that has run out of it, for objects that hold in a culture that throws away. Print answers that longing in a way a file cannot.

It takes up space. It carries the fingerprints of the people who made it, and becomes part of a body of work and a life.

For my recent series Henro, shot in Japan, the paper and the printing technique went somewhere more specific. The work is printed on Awagami, a handmade Japanese paper, using a process called piezography, at a different studio than the one I have worked with for fifteen years. The same paper is now also where my AI-based work Echo From Beyond lives, as a single one-of-one print on one of the oldest media we have for an image.

That paper, that technique, and the studio behind it deserve their own piece.
Next time.

I wanted to thank Bastiaan for his contribution and support of the Paper Art’s Collective newsletter. Feel free to drop him questions below and be sure to take a look at Bastiaan’s substack newsletter to learn more about him, his photographic art, prints, and books.

Advanced Awagami Printing & Display

Awagami inkjet papers are a specialized medium for producing fine art digital prints. The range runs from subtle matte papers to highly textured dramatic papers. The papers also run the gamut from ultra-thin to extremely thick. The key to utilizing these unique and beautiful materials is matching the paper to a photograph and artistic vision that work in harmony.

This day-and-a-half hands-on workshop will result in two completed mounted Awagami fine art prints on two of Awagami’s most distinctive papers that best represent your artistic intention. More importantly, the experience with the selection, discernment, and realization of other participants’ art will be invaluable as you move forward using Awagami materials for future projects. We start preparations for this workshop before you come with a one-on-one review of images you have in mind for final mounted prints.

Details and registration are on the LPFA website. Take a look. If you have questions shoot us an email or leave a comment. You can also take a look at our first Advanced Awagami workshop.

If you’ve been involved in making photographs for more than a minute, there’s a good chance you have way more photography stuff than you need. There are many reasons for the accumulation of photo gear. Some of them are necessities. Some are aspirational. Some are to make a particular endeavor more efficient. Some might even be critical to making a specific picture at all. And yes, many of the cameras, lenses, filters, clamps, mounts, and the myriad of other stuff is just because you wanted it.

The accumulation of photography-related stuff is so common that everyone knows there’s a term for it: Gear acquisition syndrome, commonly known as G.A.S. As the pile of photography gear grows, there’s another related syndrome that’s not discussed much. It’s far worse than the cameras, lenses, tripods, tripod heads, and all the other really fun stuff. It’s camera bag bloat.

As that perfect camera bag you found after buying three other ones becomes more and more bloated, it eventually won’t fit even one more SD card. What do you do now? Why, of course, you get a bigger one, a backpack, eventually a backpack with rollers and a collapsing handle. Maybe you get a modular one that can store all your stuff with a little mini-one that can be detached from the mother ship on occasion.

Don’t worry, the camera industry has a solution for that problem. Just buy another camera. This time, buy one with a fixed lens and use that because your other one is married up with all that other stuff in the giant bag you have to haul around. You’re good now, at least for a while, except there are things you need or want for that camera, and of course, a really perfect small camera bag that’s perfect for your small, fixed-lens camera.

And then it happens, there’s a new model of that fixed-lens camera with a different focal length... you know the perfect lens those couple of times you felt a little limited. Just one more bag. A bag just a little bit bigger, a tiny bit, perfect for those two fixed-lens cameras. But what about those trips where you might want the full armada but also might want just one of your fixed-lens “simple system” cameras too?

Of course, you rearrange all your stuff in a dozen different “optimized” theoretical kits over and over and have these all prepared combinations with all different bags “ready to go”. In fact, you have more camera bags than you do cameras now... You probably have little cases and kits of storage “solutions” that go inside other storage “solutions”.

A way off this crazy train

Immediately stop combining camera cases and kits as storage and transportation. Get rid of that notion now. Instead, imagine a completely different way of doing things. Divide your photographic gear into storage; in a perfect world, that would be a big stationary, easy-to-see set of shelves and/or drawers where all of your photo-stuff lives.

Opposite that perfect-world storage and organization, you’d have a collection of great, perfect, already accumulated camera bags for transportation and use “in the field” wherever that might be today. I did this a long time ago, and something great happened.

The great thing that happened was that the vast majority of the time, I just took one camera with one lens attached to it. And of course, battery or two and a memory card in my pocket. Yep, no bag. I was far less distracted with whatever that day’s goal was. I was far less distracted with subjects out of the range of what I decided to bring. Even better, I approached subjects more creatively without all the mental clutter.

Those other times when I opted for “more stuff” and more capability, my camera bag choice was small. In fact, it more often than not turned out to be a Domke FX5. This tiny bag will not hold a typical full-frame DSLR or mirrorless camera with a lens attached. Doesn’t matter as I have and continued to use it to add a tiny bit more capability, storage, batteries, and maybe a charger. Doesn’t matter what camera or system, that tiny bag that has minimal compartments and flexible space, it does the job.

Just two examples that see a lot of use: My big-boy Canon 5DsR with attached f/4 class zoom with a fast prime in the bag and some other bits like batteries. Sometimes it’s the same with a super-wide. On other occasions, it’s the Canon R6 with a cheap RF 50/1.8 attached and a cheapy RF 35/1.8 Macro in the bag with batteries, a ColorChecker, a notebook and pencil. Sometimes a Profoto A10 and clamp is in the bag. You get the idea.

Sure, you may not want to rearrange your entire photographic life into that shelf/draw storage vs. transport. Go ahead, keep using all those camera bags as storage, but instead of grabbing that full, do-it-all, or most of it kit, grab one of those long-forgotten small bags. Better yet, just grab your camera and the lens you are going to use today.

If still photography can be defined by just one parameter, it’s about capturing the moment. That’s given me grist for thought ever since I heard it. That magic moment might be 1/4000th of a second to capture an awesome breach by a humpback whale or a seconds to show the anger of an approaching storm.

When you think about that truism, still photography is an awesome responsibility. We capture reality for a split second or so. Or that’s what some of us think, anyway. Nothing could be further from the truth.

The Myth

What we capture in those fleeting moments is just a miniscule slice of reality. I recently watched a BBC nature special narrated by the inimitable Richard Attenboroug. I was totally absorbed by its videographic beauty, deep explanation of what we were seeing, and the sounds encircling that moment. Let’s face it, those video segments are ceryainly a “truer” representation of reality.

While you’re reading this I’m in the Serengeti, an astounding place of primal beauty, leading a photo tour of The Great Migration. Nothing in my career comes close to the feelings of inadequacy I experience amidst the deep joy of this mind-blowing spectacle, no matter how many times I’ve experienced it. As I lift my camera I think of what a fraud I am in those moments. How can I relay the frenetic immediacy of those millions of nature’s creatures struggling to survive? Or the sound of the wildebeests grunting, their babies crying out, the stampeding hooves, the cacophany of sound encasing us? How can I capture the earthy smells of the wildebeests, the zebras, the giraffes, the hippos and more?

When you face those moments ask yourself, as I remind myself on every photo shoot: “What is the story I want to tell? What is the essence I’m trying to convey to the viewer? What is it of this very moment I want to preserve for myself“? And, how can I reasonably do that within the confines of still photography?”

We can’t equate videography with photography. Yes, they are both artistic media, but they have different challenges. There are times I wish I could tell a fuller story, one more reflective of the reality I’m immersed in at that moment. But, I can’t. And that brings me to a final realization... for me, anyway.

When I’m in that moment, fine art printing rescues me. I understand my photographic limitations. But I also know what might make a good print; maybe even a great one. I know what not to bother shooting. I don’t want shots of biology textbook 101 of an elephant standing on the vast plains of The Serengeti. I don’t want to take the same images that I’ve seen a thousand times. I want to capture something that tells the story of their behavior, their sentience.

I shoot mainly black and white on slow, 3-5 captures-per-second, medium format cameras. I consider composition, of course, but I think of the final print, too. Does it have contrast, foreground elements, texture and patterns. But if I feel it falls short of a fine art print, I just pass the shot and look elsewhere. Will I miss some great action shots in Tanzania? Of course. But since I no longer do editorial photography, I now have the luxury of taking a few deep breaths before choosing my shot. I can be fully present in the glorious moment without restricting the experience through the viewfinder.

So capturing that special photographic moment will undoubtedly be different for me than for you. That’s ok. As a young editorial photographer capturing the moment to me meant only one thing, the frantic focus on bringing home the money shot. But I’ve evolved over the years. Capturing the moment has evolved for me. That’s my story, anyway. What’s yours?

It’s no secret I love my tiny little portable printers. I’ve mentioned that a couple of times here on the newsletter. I’ve even costed it out to demonstrate how economical it is. I own three small printers, one Canon, and two different Fuji Instax printers. Pure enjoyment, and I highly recommend all of them, but even if you don’t want to be bogged down with yet more gear, there are ways right in front of you to disconnect from the Borg and have way more fun with some small prints virtually immediately.

Today I wanted to share a little bit of how much a couple of small prints can enhance your enjoyment of the photographic endeavor. I’ll even share a story from over two decades ago that planted that seed and give you a few ideas.

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Without any explanation, many of you already had an image in your head. Immediately after the image in your head transformed into many adjectives, possibly those were not very nice. One could be forgiven for those first thoughts and regrets of casting a wide net on today’s art world as completely cynical. I’d imagine the artist, the auction houses, and the curators all probably think the same. (For those with no immediate notion, recall this…)

Even the first couple of buyers of the limited editions of ”The Comedian” probably thought the same. The last buyer might have thought a little differently. My completely speculative guess was it was just a flex. Here’s why: the first couple of buyers were low six-digit spends. That last buyer, a crypto-bro, not only spent seven-digits but went so far as to best the Sotheby’s by 5X.

Put all of that aside for now. I’d ask all of you to also suspend that perfectly natural and reasonable leap to “The Emperor Has No Clothes” assessment. I’m asking you to suspend that leap because you’re exactly, diametrically, incorrect. In fact, it’s far more a tale of “The Clothes Have No Emperor”; it is in fact all about the clothes.

Comedian is a 2019 artwork by the Italian artist Maurizio Cattelan. Created in an edition of three (with two artist’s proofs), it appears as a fresh banana duct-taped to a wall. As a work of conceptual art, it consists of a certificate of authenticity with detailed diagrams and instructions for its proper display. At a Sotheby’s auction in 2024, versions of Comedian sold for over $6 million — one sale hit $6.2 million.

We repeat two themes here on PaperArts more than just about any other: Curation and presentation. Those two things are absolutely essential for your work before and after making prints. There’s one fragment of the above summary from Wikipedia I want to point out. Notice the specific component right after the COA, “with detailed dialogue and instructions for its proper display”. Take this seriously, very seriously. The artist did, the venues it was shown in did, Sotheby’s did, and so did the $6.2m buyer. So should you when treating your own work seriously.

In all of our workshops, we discuss these notions to one degree or another. We treat each participant’s work with equal care and seriousness. That is probably the single thread we’ve built our workshops on over the last 20 years. It’s also the thing we learned over and over again ourselves when curating and presenting our own work. I love photography, and I love experiencing it in print, in a well-curated, well-designed presentation, and in a well-designed space. Most of the photographs we’ve designed presentations for have been Les’ photographs, but I consider the final presentation or exhibition our work.

Some of the biggest disappointments we’ve had have been constraints that we’ve been subject to in particular spaces. Constraints in curation, constraints in presentation, and especially constraints in lighting. While many of those have been commercially successful, we were not satisfied with the way the work was presented. It’s also a big part of why I’m not the biggest fan of print contests or group exhibitions that have no thought to curation or presentation.

Those are typically a lot like rolling up a Renoir and shoving it on a wall with 42 other mismatched, randomly sized, randomly framed posters as tightly as you can fit them. A lot like the internet too. There’s no notion of designing an experience to be lingered upon and relished. I wish they would be, I think they should be.

I’m not suggesting that all of us have the budget to go all the way as you’d see in the most prestigious venues. Never use that as an excuse. What I am suggesting is that you take the notions of curation and presentation seriously, as seriously as the banana and duct tape. I’m also suggesting that you do the best that you can, remembering that the cliché of “less is more” is very much true in many cases where using wall space to pack it all in is almost never the right way to go.

I found an almost unprecedented discussion on these topics by accident last week. I received a newsletter that is a summary of diverse newsletters, a curation if you will. Sometimes I ignore this particular publication because the hit rate of things I’m interested in is extremely low. Last week, the very last excerpt out of seven or eight was a true gem. I urge you to at least take a glance and, if you have the time, read all 3,500 words. Chances to learn things like this rarely come along. Peruse The Anatomy of an Exhibition by Alya before you forget and click off to some other thing today.

Object Labels

The Anatomy of an Exhibition

For a very long time, I had absolutely no idea how art got into a museum. If you had asked me, I probably would have smiled and said “magic.” I would have only been half-joking (*cue the nervous bead of sweat making its way down my forehead…

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2 months ago · 1360 likes · 194 comments · Alya

Advanced Awagami Printing & Display

Awagami inkjet papers are a specialized medium for producing fine art digital prints. The range runs from subtle matte papers to highly textured dramatic papers. The papers also run the gamut from ultra-thin to extremely thick. The key to utilizing these unique and beautiful materials is matching the paper to a photograph and artistic vision that work in harmony.

This day-and-a-half hands-on workshop will result in two completed mounted Awagami fine art prints on two of Awagami’s most distinctive papers that best represent your artistic intention. More importantly, the experience with the selection, discernment, and realization of other participants’ art will be invaluable as you move forward using Awagami materials for future projects. We start preparations for this workshop before you come with a one-on-one review of images you have in mind for final mounted prints.

Details and registration are on the LPFA website. Take a look. If you have questions shoot us an email or leave a comment. You can also take a look at our first Advanced Awagami workshop.

November 25, 2020, that’s the last time I used a lens over 100mm. Doesn’t seem so long ago; the decade number is the same, but that’s almost six years ago. I am sure many of you don’t still use cameras that old. The lens in question I’m discussing happens to be the longest lens I own; that lens is the Canon 200mm f/2.8 L II.

For those that don’t know about this lens, it rightfully takes its place in Canon’s long line of 200mm prime L-series lenses. Like everyone else, Canon has a couple of good 70-200mm 2.8 lenses gaining IS/VR and a few updates along the way. The 200 f/2.8 L II replaced the 1991 original in 1996 and has stayed the same ever since. It’s the poor-man’s version of the grail 200mm f/1.8 and then the 200mm f/2 L lenses. In summary, it’s a fantastically good lens, even better than the 70-200 lenses. The bonus is that it is cheaper (now idiotically cheap), smaller, and lighter than those others I mentioned.

I snagged my copy during the great EF mount gear purge when people were giving their EF mount Canon lens away. It’s still a great value as it works perfectly on my R mount cameras (as does all my EF stuff). I thought $400 for a literally like-new sample was great for the occasions I had to make tight headshots. Yes, I did use it for that purpose a few times prior to the above shot, but I use a closely related lens more for that purpose; my Canon 180 180mm f/3.5L Macro, also a steal. In the above case, I used it entirely out of practical need for the reach and framing of what could loosely be considered a landscape scene.

So what about those new tricks?

I’ve not thought about that night shot in years. I made a few exposures of that scene, picked one, and sent a copy to a few of my neighbors. They loved it. Probably not because it’s a fantastic landscape photo but because on this particular, very still night, they could for a moment see beauty in the horror show plaguing all of us for weeks. They for a moment could see past the clanging, roaring, buzzing, 24-hour to and fro journey to the center of the Earth disturbing our peaceful place on this planet.

What made me think about it now was finishing up my Watercolors:subversion project. Two things crossed my mind. The first thing was a question; Could this be the genesis of that project, the seed of an idea not yet fully formed? Probably - yes. The second thought was a little deeper and all about my own comfort zones.

If you’ve followed the newsletter for a while, you may remember I live in 28mm to 50mm land. Every once in a while, I venture into 18-21mm territory. Less frequently, I may even go wild and use an 85mm or 100mm lens. Beyond that, doesn’t cross my mind except for the above-mentioned headshot or super-close beauty-related detail shot. Neither does landscape photography.

Looking at the Watercolors:subversion project, I noticed that in a way, all of the photographs in the project seemed to compress things together and flatten them out. Hey, telephoto lenses do that, right? So this summer, when I actually like to be outdoors, I’m going to teach myself a new trick. I’m going to use my longest lenses on the landscape around me. I may even grab a 1.4x or 2x teleconverter if I see one at fire-sale prices.

I don’t yet have a working title, but I will soon. I’m betting several will present themselves after my first outing. Now all there is to do is just wait for some great light. I’m hoping my first outing I won’t end up with the working title of Frustrating Folly. We’ll see, but I’ll go out again anyway. Oh, in case you didn’t infer it from context, if you shoot Canon cameras of any variety, grab the 200mm 2.8L II or the 180mm 3.5L Macro, I’d highly recommend either. Ask me why I have both and which one might be right for you if so inclined. I’m an open book.

What will all of you be up to photographically this summer? Or for our friends in the southern hemisphere, this winter?

Advanced Awagami Printing & Display

Awagami inkjet papers are a specialized medium for producing fine art digital prints. The range runs from subtle matte papers to highly textured dramatic papers. The papers also run the gamut from ultra-thin to extremely thick. The key to utilizing these unique and beautiful materials is matching the paper to a photograph and artistic vision that work in harmony.

This day-and-a-half hands-on workshop will result in two completed mounted Awagami fine art prints on two of Awagami’s most distinctive papers that best represent your artistic intention. More importantly, the experience with the selection, discernment, and realization of other participants’ art will be invaluable as you move forward using Awagami materials for future projects. We start preparations for this workshop before you come with a one-on-one review of images you have in mind for final mounted prints.

Details and registration are on the LPFA website. Take a look. If you have questions shoot us an email or leave a comment. You can also take a look at our first Advanced Awagami workshop.

That’s it! I draw the line, throw down my gloves and challenge Bob to... let me think on that (he’s younger than I am).

In his latest post, Bob, an accomplished studio photographer, had the audacity to say that he finds landscape photography “confusing, chaotic, and frustrating”. Oh, wait, dear fellow landscape photographers, that’s not all he said.

The nerve! Hold on. Then he got personal.

How sad. Just because landscape photography is frustrating is beside the point. Sitting in his climate controlled studio, with more lighting than the Milky Way at his command, not to mention also controlling his models (well, it was worth a mention anyway), he has the chutzpah to comment on the chaos and confusion I face when out in the field.

Little does he know that his “jokes” weren’t actually funny. I never told him about my mini-chainsaw-in-my camera-luggage-incident at the airport. I hope one of those TSA agents is getting good use out of it.

Better yet, he never noticed that one of his precious mega-lights with an inflatable umbrella was missing for a few weeks when I did a Grand Canyon landscape photoshoot. That damned thing was useless!

And truth be known, Bob has never experienced the joys that a landscape photographer experiences. He knows nothing about shrinkage, for example. Like the winter night in Yukon Territory that I spent 5+ hours outside in -50F (literally!) photographing the Northern Lights. Thankfully I had an insulated jug of hot tea to keep me company. Until about 3 hours in I realized that nature was calling; screaming actually. Ha, the fool will never experience that!

So, the last thing I’ll say is that next month I’m going on a two week photo expedition. Do any of you want to come along to re-landscape the foreground?

I discussed some of my surprising editorial and curatorial choices for the Watercolors: subversion project last week. Today I’ll be ignoring the project and collection aspect and diving into thoughts about particular photographs. I could have any from my final curation, but these few will serve well to relate to numerous thoughts I wanted to share.

I’m not a landscape photographer. My first choice in photographic medium is black & white. That is to say, I don’t typically make color pictures when working on personal work. I find landscape confusing, chaotic, and frustrating. I like to control light rather than be subject to it. When you add color into the chaos, I’m bewildered.

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In this DIY, I’m addressing something mental not physical.

If you’re a subscriber to Paper Arts you know that we love fine art photo papers in general and especially Japanese (washi) papers. If you are new to Paper Arts, welcome, and ready yourself for possible immersion into a very special print experience.

The Essence of Washi

Washi, simply translated, means Japanese (wa) paper (shi). But, it’s so much more than a simple names implies. Washi papers differ substantially from the Western papers that dominate the market.

For one thing, many of these washi papers are hand made, even today, following a 1500-year tradition. Washi papers differ in the manner of the plant fibers used, the texture of the papers, and the incredible thinness of some washi papers, while retaining their structural stability.

Years ago, washi paper manufacturers made the leap to coated inkjet papers as part of their product lines. Awagami, for example (disclosure: I was named their first International Ambassador a few years ago), offers 16 different washi papers that are inkjet compatible. One of those 16, a gloriously textured paper called Bizan, is entirely hand made.

I’m not disparaging Western papers. In our studio I’m guessing that 85% of our printing is done on wonderful Western fine art papers, ranging from smooth to heavily textured (be sure to read Bob’s paper comparisons). But there are characteristics of washi papers that make them instantly identifiable.

Read more

During the summer of 2023, I shared the evolution of a small personal project. The seeds of that project were sown while I was producing a different project focused on testing various self-publishing services. One of the first things I did was develop a working title, Watercolors. Over the last few weeks, it’s no secret that I used two photographs from a new personal project, Watercolors: subversions, to evaluate the Canson Arches family of papers.

Throughout the evaluation of Arches papers, I was at the end of Watercolors: subversions. Sometimes the end, finishing the project, can be the most difficult. Those ”final” decisions can be paralyzing. Some of the early notions held onto since the beginning need to be cast over the side. One notion that needed reconsideration was using a textured paper for the prints. My investigation of the Arches line was entirely driven by recognizing this. Arches 88, the antithesis of a textured paper, was used to produce the set of final prints.

Another decision I’ve come to during the Arches evaluation is somewhat ironic. One of the photographs you’ve seen throughout the series of Arches newsletters was what I considered the ”signature” image for this project. It has to go. It just doesn’t fit with the whole of the project. The irony is that that photo was the image rejected from the original Watercolors project. It was that image that precipitated making the rest of the photographs in Watercolors: subversions.

I don’t lament rejecting the photograph that inspired *Watercolors: subversions. I also didn’t do it lightly; I sought input from a few other people, not the least of which was Les. I didn’t do it without context. I also didn’t prejudice feedback by pointing out my thoughts. I presented the project as a whole. What surprised me was how obvious it was to others that it didn’t belong. People had numerous reasons it didn’t seem to fit. Not for any one reason, but for all of those reasons, it had to go.

When curating your work it’s not merely a matter of “I don’t like this picture” or “I like this picture less than the others”. It’s far more a matter of how well it fits with the project taken as a whole. The parent project Watercolors was an attempt at portraying the landscape (not my wheelhouse photographically) and feel of my local neighborhood. My intent was to show “how the water sees the landscape”.

Watercolors: subversions was a different take on that intent. An even more abstract take on the intent. In a way, it doubles down on how the water sees the place I live. The water has been an essential element of my local area for hundreds of years. Every other photograph in the collection has a very different point of view. A point of view that in various degrees subverts expectations and in a way puts the viewer in the place of the water rather than an observer of the water.

I don’t lament rejecting the image that served to inspire a different this different take or cause me to go out day after day, week after week searching for, and making, photographs. That’s all part of doing the work. The process frequently starts somewhere and then leads to unexpected different places.

Doing the work is harder than imagining doing work that you can’t do. We’d all love to live the fantasy of traveling to the perfect place, in the perfect conditions, in the perfect state of mind to make the perfect photographs, of our preferred subject. That’s a mirage. Go out (or stay in) and do the work you can do now. It will lead to other things even if you can’t fully see that when you start. When the opportunity arises in that far-away place, you’ll be far better prepared to make photographs.

What’s next for Watercolors: subversions

I said I was at the end of this project. Here’s my list of things to bring it to a conclusion … for now.

• I need a substitute for the rejected image.

• I need to decide on the order and juxtaposition of the final collection.

• I need to decide on the final presentation in terms of mounting (or not).

• Last but certainly not least, I need to show them, not just online but the prints, in person, to an audience, big or small.

More on these things later. The first item in the list needs to be done now. I’ve already determined the number of prints in this collection, twelve, and I’m short one. I’ve already made all twelve prints on 11in x 14in Arches 88. There’s a reason I’ve vacillated between 12 or 15 as the total number in the collection. I’ll discuss that another day after making that first decision and substituting a print. Stay tuned…

Evolution of a small project

For your convenience here’s a list, in order, revisiting Evolution of the small project; Watercolors archived series of newsletters.

1. Genesis and working title

2. Initial curation and project parameters

3. Editorial work

4. Rejects and narrowing focus

5. Choosing a signature image

6. Finishing the project

My revelation that the bright whiteness of the Arches line of Canson papers was not fueled by optical brightening agents (OBAs) began while producing a personal project. I wasn’t merely playing with papers. I was finalizing a project born a few years ago. I was closing in on my final editorial selections and decided to print the photographs I was sure were selects, all twelve of them.

The paper I chose was Hahnemühle Museum Etching. They looked great, at least I thought so at first glance but something wasn’t sitting right. After living with a few of those “final” 11in x 14in prints for a week or so I started seriously questioning that paper choice. The texture of the Museum Etching, although beautiful in itself, wasn’t really mating well with the overall feel of the project. The texture was especially detracting from a few of my favorite images that had large areas of super smooth gradient color or neutrals.

I had a giant preconceived bias when starting the print production. That bias came from how well a different kind of texture worked with the parent project I had completed a few years ago worked with similar subject matter but very different pictures. Yes, both projects were color. Both projects were born out of my attempt to portray how my local environment felt. There was even a crossover in the color palette.

Too bad this new project needed something completely different because the overall feel is completely different. I got one thing right with the choice of Museum Etching. The color rendition was much more saturated with deeper blacks and more contrast, far more than the Awagami I used for the parent Watercolors project.

Back to the drawing board…

My first instinct was to make a couple of proofs on paper that was super smooth. The paper that came to mind was one of those matt baryta papers we tested a while ago. They are super smooth and may even have punchier contrast and colors. Flipping through the Canson sample book is the moment I came across the Arches 88. On a lark I looked up the specs, shocked that a paper this bright and punch had no OBAs.

I ordered a box. The day the “88” arrived I printed two proofs. I knew this was the paper I was going to use for the Watercolors Subversion project. Those are the two photographs I’ve been using for the review of the entire Canson Arches line. Today I’ll be wrapping up the comparisons of the Arches line with a truly unique matt paper; The ultra smooth, ultra white Canson Arches “88”.

Comparing Arches 88

The other Arches papers I’ve studied so far absolutely fall into the textured category of papers. Arches 88 is the exact opposite. To illustrate just how smooth it is the primary comparison I was interested in was the other paper that came to mind when I stumbled on the “88”, Canson Matt Baryta.

Using hard, extreme side-lighting, and negative fill to exaggerate any texture whatsoever, Arches “88” and Matt Baryta are just about the same in terms of smoothness.¹ With even a modest bit of fill light, there is no difference at all in surface texture. Both of these papers are super-smooth, about the smoothest surfaces of any material you can print on.

What’s even more surprising is that the Arches 88 is even whiter than the Matt Baryta.² I guess that’s why I’ve assumed that the Arches papers were bright OBA papers when casually looking at them in the sample books for so long. Yes, baryta based papers are on the neutral white side of the fence but they look downright warm next to both OBA bright papers and the Arches 88 under any light that has even a hint of a blue component.

Color, contrast, DMAX, etc.

Instead of gauging the “88” against all other matt papers I’ll just summarize it against the Matt Baryta given that’s about as saturated, punchy, and as close as you’re going to get this side of a semi-gloss paper.

• Blacks are of equal density

• Overall contrast and apparent punchiness is the same

• Gamut seems similar

• Saturation of warm and cool tones is a toss up

• The tiny bit of additional brightness might give a slight edge in perceived contrast the the “88”

Arches 88 is exactly the opposite paper you’d want to use for a softer look. Its properties are leaving me with a dilemma. When would I choose the Matt Baryta instead of “88”. After comparing the two directly under many lighting conditions the only answer I can give at the moment is, “I don’t know”, I really don’t!

There is one giant difference between these visually similar papers, the hand feel. With no doubt whatsoever, I’d choose the Arches 88 for any print that was going to be handheld. That might be a personal preference but I doubt it. My guess is that anyone would choose the more luxurious, softer feel of the “88”. I’m probably going to obsess over the question of which paper I’d choose for what circumstance until I come up with a good answer. Visually, they are very similar.

One more comparison

You might have guessed this was coming. A comparison of the “88” with our studio standard, Moab Entrada Natural. As a bonus, I’ll also compare the “88” to Moab Entrada Bright, just to show how white the “88” is. Technically the “88” isn’t the whitest of the Arches line, that honor goes to the BFK Rives. Visually, and even side-by-side the “88” is so similar in whiteness it’s difficult to tell in all but the most perfect conditions. Even under lab conditions your perception between the two might change just flipping the prints around.

Both Entrada papers would definitely be considered smooth matt papers. Compared to “88” the Entrada looks almost textured, that’s how smooth the “88” is. Compared to the “88” the Entrada Natural is almost yellow given how warm it is. Compared to the Entrada Bright you can see how I thought it was a bright OBA boosted paper. You can see a hint of the blueness in the Entrada Bright, it does have an edge in overall brightness and punch in the highlights but it’s not something that is night and day.

Note that I have gone to great measure to use a broad spectrum light with very little blue bias in these comparisons. I also balanced the color to a neutral gray color target, not the papers. If I used a different strobe such as my Profoto D2 lights or any kind of speed light that has a narrower spectrum and far higher color temperature, the Entrada Bright would show a much higher blue bias as well. I wanted to be as fair as possible and represent all these papers as you’d seem them visually in daylight or a controlled viewing booth.

1. Lighting was a Broncolor Unilite strobe head at 90° across the surface of the papers with a Mola 16in Rayo reflector 7ft away on the left and a black negative fill card just out of frame to exaggerate any surface texture with extreme contrast. ↩︎

2. For illustrations that reduced contrast to show base color, saturation, and dmax a white reflector was used camera right with the same lighting setup as described above. ↩︎

Canson Arches BFK Rives is produced in two varieties, white and pure white. The names of these two papers without mentioning the Canson part are already a mouthful. Imagine if the BFK part wasn’t abbreviated. I assume BFK is an abbreviation. I don’t know what BFK means. I’ll investigate as my curiosity is now tweaked. Doesn’t matter, let’s get to the important part…

White, Whiter, & Whitest-est

I have no idea why one version has the moniker white. As far as I can tell, this is the same paper previously known as BFK Rives period, without the white added on to the end. I have a sample pack. No, the word period is not in the name. I’m dwelling on this apparently minor point for a couple of reasons. The entire Arches line of papers are very white. So much so that at first glance, I thought they had some degree of optical brightening agents (OBAs). I mentioned this a few weeks ago.

Another reason I dwell on that word white used as a differentiator is that BFK Rives White turns out to be the least white, warmest paper in the Arches line. It’s warmer than the ’88’, it’s warmer than the Aquarelle, and it is certainly warmer than its fraternal twin BFK Rives Pure White. So what you have with these two nearly identical papers, both very white, considering they have no OBAs, are papers that bracket the Arches very white family as the whitest and the warmest.

Texture

When taking a look at the Arches line of papers, I decided to asses the most textured to the least textured in the family. Aquarelle is the most textured. I contrasted that paper with other highly textured papers as a reference for readers that might be familiar with the Moab Entrada Coldpress or the Hahnemühle Museum Etching.

Both BFK Rives papers are not quite as textured as any of those referenced above. Both are quite clearly textured but definitely more subtle. At first look, there was something that reminded me of a paper I love, Hahnemühle Torchon, but consider extremely textured and therefore a little bit more specialized than smoother papers like Moab Entrada. I decided to compare the BFK Rives papers to Aquarelle and, of all things, Hahnemühle Torchon.

Textured needs to be defined with more clarity. What exactly does more textured vs. less textured mean precisely? It’s obvious when comparing papers that are miles apart in terms of any apparent texture. An example would be comparing Moab Entrada Natural with Natural Coldpress. Using a phrase like more textured is quite obvious. It’s not that Natural has zero texture; it’s just very fine and very shallow. It doesn’t impose itself on the applied image in a way that is obvious like Coldpress does.

When evaluating papers that are obviously textured, it’s useful to compare texture in two different dimensions that I’ll term width and depth. The width dimension is how wide the textured pattern is. Depth, again by its very name, is how deep from the surface the textured pattern is. One more consideration that determines the overall look of textured papers is the ratio of those two factors. I’m not going to attempt to math this to death, but that depth ratio plays a huge role in the contrast and therefore perception of the texture.

A paper with a very fine texture in terms of the width of its pattern but being relatively deep will be contrasty and rough in appearance. It will impose that texture upon a printed image in a significant way. Keeping that same depth, or even more depth with a very wide pattern will be softer in appearance. This is why Hahnemühle Torchon came to mind when I examined the BFK Rives twins. The Torchon has a ludicrously wider texture, but that texture is so wide it doesn’t have deep shadows that call itself out prominently.

The BFK Rives papers are similar in that way. The width of the texture is much finer but doesn’t have enough depth to be as prominent as the Aquarelle. It’s probably more versatile and easier to pair with a wider array of photographs because the texture doesn’t demand attention.

Pairing photographs

I dove into the notions of width, depth, the ratio of the two, and how those things affect perception of paper textures because it’s super important when mating photographs to the perfect paper. Matt papers offer a huge diversity of surface textures. That’s what is great about them. So many of those obviously textured papers are drop-dead gorgeous. I tremble with fear and reverence when I hit that print button, hoping to make a beautiful object, hoping I am not ruining the pristine material. I typically don’t feel that way with a plastic-looking bright white semi-gloss run-of-the-mill all-purpose photo paper that looks a lot like the stuff you get from Walmart prints.

The more apparent the texture, the more important it is to consider how that texture interacts and imposes itself on a printed photograph. What might not be so obvious is that the texture is of a constant size no matter what size the print is. The detail in the photograph does change in size depending on the size one prints. This can be amazingly important when selecting a paper.

Printing a 7in x 10.5in picture on 11in x 14in paper can look vastly different in terms of how paper texture interacts with the detail than the same picture printed much larger or much smaller. Do yourself a favor, print a proof with the photo at the same scale for your final print. It’s super easy to do with Photoshop.

• Load up your picture in Photoshop

• Go to Image->Image Size

• Uncheck resample

• Set your image dimensions to the target print size in in/cm

• Go to File->Print

• Select a much smaller size paper.

• Drag the image around in the preview to print an area of representative detail at the full scale of the target print on the smaller paper.

Color, blacks, etc.

This one is easy. I’m not going to spend a whole lot of time because there are no significant differences in gamut, dmax, or other characteristics that are worth pointing out. Both papers have more than adequate characteristics compared to peer matt papers. They will both perform extremely well with color and black and white photographs, leaving little to yearn for. I’d not at all consider either of these “softer” papers in terms of toning down an image color or contrast. There are other papers that will do that. The BFK Rives are definitely more in the category of highly performing matt papers.

The defining characteristic of BFK Rives White is that it is the warmest paper in the Canson Arches line. It is subtly textured but definitely something you cannot consider smooth. The texture is subtle enough that I don’t think there is a large risk of that interfering or clashing with most photographs. Being the warmest paper in the Arches line-up, it’s still very much on the white side of non-OBA papers, so it gives a clean appearance.

Moving on to the Pure White brother. This is definitely the whitest, brightest of the Arches papers. That’s saying something significant since all of them being natural cotton rag bases are very white as the numbers bear out. If you want subtle texture that imparts an obvious fine art feel while having a “poppy” look approaching papers with OBAs, this is the paper for you. Super impressive for a portfolio in my opinion.

May 4, 2021, we published our first newsletter. Our goal and our intent from that very first newsletter was to celebrate and promote photography, specifically photography in print. We’ve done our best from day one to stick close to that. Of course there are photography topics covered that are peripheral to making prints we’ve covered but always tried to keep them connected to the primary mission.

From that beginning we’ve also tried to publish one newsletter every week. I think we’ve been faithful to that commitment made possible entirely due to the support we’ve received from our paid subscribers. We’ve never wanted to imply that paid subscriptions got “the good stuff” hence our publishing schedule. Four times a month with the fourth being available to those that support us financially, we would not be able to do that without you.

Later, we were able to add the DIY series. At first that was published bi-monthly. Later we published that series every month. Again, thanks to those that support the newsletter financially. As we celebrate our fifth year publishing the newsletter we hope to continue to improve it and expand the number of topics and depth in the weekly newsletter and the monthly DIY series.

In celebration of our five-year anniversary we wanted to thank the entire community, especially those that make our continued efforts viable. In recognition and thankfulness we decided to make the last newsletter of March 2026 available to all of our subscribers. That particular newsletter isn’t something “special”, but there’s no way we could do it without the financial support. Just a little help allows us to acquire the paper, the ink, and spend the time.

We’ll be publishing our observations on the rest of the Canson Arches line of fine-art papers over the next month or so, and we wanted to make sure everyone could follow along. Consider that series specifically brought to you by those that make the entire endeavor possible with their generous support.

Ten years ago

The genesis of the newsletter focusing on photography in print started not five years ago but ten. We made a decision that was very difficult at the time. We decided to make all of our workshops in-person, limited to four participants, and entirely focused on photography in print. Every one of our workshops was dedicated to producing a physical object and doing that with real people in the same space we were.

Why was that a hard decision? It was hard because everyone else was running hard in the other direction. It severely limited our scalability. It also limited our audience. Most photographers at that time seemed far more interested in Instagram and Facebook and…

Fast-forward, there’s a phrase that I continue to hear more and more. I don’t know who or where the original phrase came from, but I do hear it more frequently month by month. That phrase; ”touching grass” in spirit was our motivation a decade ago. I guess this newsletter encourages touching grass in a way, producing physical objects with the photographs you make and sharing those in-person with any sized audience. We hope you feel the same.

Why a newsletter?

A couple of reasons, actually many reasons, but the biggest is my increasing aversion to other forms of electronic communication. As time goes on, other forms of electronic media demand continuous engagement by design. We have no desire to engage an audience continuously.

A newsletter seemed like a more gentle way, a return to publications that would show up on a regular schedule to be consumed on the reader’s schedule. It also seemed a far better fit for longer form, more thoughtful content. I still believe email is the “killer app”. Yes, it’s abused by marketers and scam artists, but so was regular snail mail. Now that email isn’t treated like a pager or text messaging it might even be better. By its nature, mail isn’t urgent in the sense real-time communication is.

We have used both the audio and video features of this modern technology platform in moderation. Specifically, we’ve used video only to demonstrate things where we’ve thought it was more clear than words. We’ve used audio instead of video for things like interviews that can be listened to with people’s own words in their own voices. Unlike video, audio doesn’t demand sitting in front of your a device with all of your senses engaged. It can be consumed more casually, like radio vs. television.

This is a big reason we’ve not dived in to the messaging, notes, and real-time features of the platform we use for email delivery. When we selected this platform we felt comfortable with their model, and so far we still feel that way. I don’t feel spammed with irrelevant content or abused in my inbox, so I trust our community feels the same. If that changes, we will change too.

Someday...

Someday, we’d love to do this full-time. Someday, we’d love to publish in print, not just a version of this newsletter but something different. Someday, we’d love to host exhibitions and provide a venue for lovers of photography in print.

Are any of those things close? No. Does that matter? No, we’ll continue to increase and improve the content of the newsletter as long as we can with all of your support. While doing that we’ll continue to look for possibilities and hope the “somedays“ come to fruition.

That first newsletter almost five years ago was an attempt to reinvigorate the in-person exhibition of photography as we were at the tail-end of the big COVID shut-in. It was an allergic reaction to more than a year without in-person workshops and Zoom fatigue. We were a little too early, we learned a lot of things. We’ll continue to champion the physical manifestation of a photograph and the in-person celebration of photography.

Index of fine-art papers

We’ve shared our thoughts on quite a few fine-art papers. Consider the new series covering the Canson Arches line of papers an acceleration of that effort. In addition to adding more of our observations and comparisons of different papers, we’ll also share our thoughts on photo-paper pairing. We spend an immense amount of time choosing papers that will best showcase the photograph. We’ll be sharing our thoughts on that topic more and more as we go forward.

Checkout the new index of papers we’ve tested and discussed. There are many more to come. In a way it’s a golden age for photographers like us that don’t consider it done until a photograph is printed. The selection of papers for printing photos has never been better. On that note stay tuned for an announcement I would have never expected.

Thank you to our entire community for the first five years.

As mentioned a week ago, we’ve obtained a box of all four Arches papers from Canson. I couldn’t wait to try them for a current project of mine. I’m in the midst of deciding what paper pairs best with this small project. I’ve mentioned the project before. My working title is ”Watercolors : Subversion”. I don’t intend for this to be published as a book or small ‘zine; it’s too small. Instead I’ll be producing 10 to 12 small prints. Obviously, the project was sparked and the first two or three photographs were pulled from my original Watercolors project.

I don’t know if I am done making photographs for the project but given the work I’ve already done I already have started down the road of choosing a paper. I don’t use heavily textured papers much for my own work but decided to see what the 10 photographs I’ve made looked like on a “Watercolor” paper. Since I already have that set of 10 printed on Hahnemühle Museum Etching, I thought a good place to start with the Arches line was Aquarelle, the most visibly textured.

Before I give a summary of my findings I’ll divide this into two schools of thought. The first is my objective observations about the Arches Aquarelle as compared to other similar papers. The second being my subjective thoughts on how well I think it pairs with this specific project printed at the target size of 7in x 10.5in on 11 x 14 paper. I’ll try to make each school of thought clear.

Watercolors : Subversion project characteristics

Each photograph is color and has a very limited color palette. Every one has some degree of warm tones and cool tones but the proportion of each varies tremendously. Some of the photos are subtle, almost monochrome and also having low saturation others are vividly saturated. Taken as a whole there is a consistently in the hues among all of them. The other common characteristic is that the photographs themselves have a shininess or sheen to them for lack of better terms.

Given the nature of the project I decided to use two photos to evaluate all of the Arches line, including the Aquarelle. Both are highly saturated and have a broad tonal range from deep shadow to brilliant highlights. One is predominantly warmer tones, the other is predominantly cool tones. I thought that these two extremes would best demonstrate the papers. I’ll use the same for all of the Arches papers and the papers I am going to compare them to.

Warmer tones

First up is the warmer tones. I’m not going to verbally exaggerate the differences between these two wonderful, premium quality papers as that would be misleading. My over all assessment is that they are extremely comparable. I’d probably choose one or the other based far more on the surface texture more than I would any clear advantage in shadow or highlight rendering. The same goes for blacks and overall gamut differences. These papers would give a similar impression if not right next to each other and being scrutinized.

The characteristics I observe are:

• The surface texture as mentioned (more on that later)

• The base color of the Aquarelle is slightly whiter than the Museum Etching

• The shadow and highlight rendering are similar the Aquarelle has slightly higher punch in the highlights that I’d attribute to the whiter base

• Much to my surprise, there seems to be a difference in the gamut within the warmer tones, specifically in the upper midtowns and highlights. The Aquarelle seems to hold onto the saturation. Take a look at the bottom left of each print in the yellows reflected in the water. The punchier cool upper mid-tones I attribute more to the base whiteness more than saturation

Cooler tones

I don’t see a noticeable difference in the cooler blue tones as I did in the warmer toned photo. The rendering in terms of saturation is too similar to bother with differentiating them. If you think you see a difference in the illustrations it’s probably due to seeing more of the blues in the top print than the bottom. My observations are looking directly at the prints in a broad spectrum, even light.

The interesting thing you can see in the illustration is that my observations from the warmer toned photograph seem to hold true here. Take a look at the piling in the foreground. Again the warmer tones seem to be more saturated as the go towards the upper mid-tones. Also, take a look at the highlights on the boat and the motor.

Texture

The reason I’d choose one of these papers over the other is texture. Using words to describe texture is fraught with dangers. I’ll give it a try. Both the Aquarelle and Museum Etching should be considered highly textured papers. Any close viewing shows both are not subtle. That doesn’t mean they are direct substitutes as they are very different. I’d never mix the two even if there wasn’t a difference in base color.

• Both are deeply textured in that they cast deep shadow into the shadow when lit from the side

• The Museum Etching is more varied and broad in texture

• Aquarelle is finer and more even

• Interestingly that more even texture has more variation in depth

• Both papers are incredibly sharp. Contrary to what one may think that’s not familiar with textured papers they do not at all soften a photographs appearance, quite the opposite, they usually give an impression more sharpness. Don’t confuse this effect with the rendering of fine detail.

• The hand feel of the Aquarelle is softer and more pliant as compared to the Museum Etching which feels a bit stiffer. Both are thick and heavy weight.

Bottom line

Canson Arches Aquarelle is an interesting addition to my repertoire of textured matte papers. I’ll be selecting this paper when fine-tuning surface texture for a particular photograph. It’s good to have access to a large variation of surface textures; that texture can play very differently depending on the size an image is printed.

The base tone is another important consideration. Some work calls for a brighter, whiter paper. Other work calls for something a little warmer without going head first into what I’d considered colored bases that are quite obviously yellow/brown.

Aquarelle is a great paper with color as well as shadow/highlight rendering characteristics that are top tier. On the more subjective side, I’ll not be using either paper or anything nearly as textured for my ”Watercolors : Subversion” project. I already knew that with my first run of prints on the Museum Etching.

The texture at the size of the prints I’ll be making does nothing but detract with the very smooth negative space like the cooler-toned photograph while also interfering with the fine textures of the rippled water in the warmer toned photo. The images in the project just do not sit well on these papers, double so for the small print sizes I’ll be making.

A big thank you to all of you that have been so generous by supporting us with a paid subscription, it certainly helps us with a little bit towards some paper and ink. I’d love to hear from all of you that have experience with these highly textured papers; point us to some of your work that pairs well. I’m sure the community would learn a lot when considering them for their own work.

In my previous DIY, I went through the process of coating a canvas print. Now let’s go on to the next step. Once you’ve allowed enough time for drying and outgassing of any volatile components, it’s time to wrap the canvas around your frame.

Frames

The first item to attend to in mounting your canvas is your choice of framing sticks, a detail that can derail your entire canvas print project! Too many photographers make an enormous mistake in not paying enough attention to this.

Basically there are two broad categories with framing sticks. You can either make them yourself or buy them custom cut to the size you want.

Read more

I like to think of myself as open-minded, curious, and willing to engage things on their own terms. Turns out that we are all probably guilty of cognitive bias. You might remember a review that we shared of the relatively new baryta matte papers more than a year ago. There are a lot of things to like about those papers. One primary characteristic would be their relative brightness compared to natural matte papers. That brightness gives prints more visual “pop”. For some photographs this extra pop can be exactly the thing that makes it sing.

For decades that baryta coating was the go-to way of providing that little bit of extra visual contrast without resorting to optical brightening agents. The catch was that it has traditionally only available coupled with a glossy surface. Having that option now available on a matte paper is fantastic option for those that don’t want a few of the downsides of matte papers using optical brightening agents. Personally I avoid papers with OBAs due to their tendency to appear blue in certain lighting conditions. This is especially true when using strobes with very high color temperatures when making pictures of prints.

There are a ton of situations where choosing a “bright” matte paper with OBAs is the best choice and truly enhances certain work. One of the downsides of the matte baryta papers is the china-like smoothness. There’s no choice of surface textures, the two characteristics are married together.

Cutting to the chase, I was shocked that a paper I’ve seen a hundred times in sample books had absolutely zero optical brightening agents. When flipping through small and large sample books I’ve always assumed that the paper did given how “bright” it appeared contrasted to “natural” matte papers. On a whim I printed one of my Watercolors/Subversion project photos on Canson Arches 88. It looked great. It looked a lot like Moab Entrada Bright but with a surface akin a matte baryta paper.

Upon further investigation I found none of the Arches line of four different papers contained OBAs. This revelation caused me to immediately put a fully comparison of these Canson Arches line of papers on the schedule. We’ve obtained a box of each of those four different papers this week. I cannot wait to share our findings with you.

The reason I am so excited is that matte papers offer a huge variety of surface textures and hand feel. Matching photographic work to the perfect paper is truly an art unto itself. Exploring where the Canson Arches line fits into this broad spectrum of matte papers between natural and bright opens a dimension new to me. I’m hoping this exploration will save some of you time and money while pointing you in the right direction for your photographic projects.

I’m sure more than one subscriber has experience with the Arches line of papers and the above mentioned Arches 88. I’d love if you shared your thoughts on using them with us and the rest of the community. We’ll be sharing ours shortly but not this week as we’re neck deep with a group of talented photographers hosting a portfolio workshop.

We spend a lot of time on this Substack talking about the technical ins and outs of fine art printing. But in the studio recently, Bob passed by as I was framing a print and casually commented on the tool I was using.

“You should do a Substack on it,” he said. “Seriously”.

The more I thought about it the more I’m seeing his point, because, candidly, it is undoubtedly the most used - and useful - tool in our studio. I’m referring to our indispensable camel’s hair (or horse hair) brush.

The Dust Devil

Let’s face it. If the devil is in the details, he’s masquerading as dust. A couple of years ago I framed a 40 x 60” print for a client. For any of you who have done large format prints, you know how painstaking that process is. I measured and cut the frame, sanded, glued and clamped it, painted it (1 coat of primer and two coats of paint), cut the glass and the double mat and backing board, affixed the print to the backing board, secured the package in place, affixed a dust cover, and added hanging wire. IMHO, the print looked gorgeous.

I stood it up and examined it. Perfect. The next day, as I was preparing to package it for delivery, I got a major wake-up call (smack up side of the head, as my North Carolina friends would say). On the bottom of the white outer mat there was a big flake of paint dust mocking my careful and time-consuming work. I’ll let you imagine how I reacted. After I calmed down, I dissasembled the entire frame and started all over. More on what caused this disaster in a minute.

Just Brush It Off... and Vacuum!

I do pride myself in meticulous attention to detail in our studio, so much so more than one of my colleagues over the years has suggested that I should rearrange the letters of Alan, my middle name (I’ll let you figure that one out).

A key tool for framing is my modest camel’s hair brush, which was given to me by my photographer father and which I have used every day in the studio for the past 50+ years. I’m constantly sweeping our work tables to reduce dust, crumbs and paper shavings on work surfaces.

For framing, my method for dust control is that before I do anything, I first sweep the work surface with my trusty brush. Then I lay down heavy paper to protect the work surface, I sweep the paper. I sweep the mats, backing board, etc.

One important tip is that if you do your own framing, after you sweep thoroughly, be sure to also methodically vacuum the insides of the frame (the rabbet) with the vacuum brush in place. That is the most problematic area. Dust can accumulate in the crevices and the nature of wood is that it holds the dust or wood splinters or paint chips until you are completely done with the frame, then spits them out.

The point here is that aside from all the rather expensive items needed for framing, don’t forget the simpler ones. A large, soft hair brush (camel’s hair, horse hair or synthetic) is essential. It’s a devil of a tool.