Expanding your palette for photo prints (part 2)

The basics
Whether you print using an inkjet (that's called a "giclée" print in snob), or a chemical process at your local photo lab (usually a Noritsu printer at 1 hour photo centers such as Costco), you have choices to make. Often, you only get two options: luster (or "lustre" in snob) or glossy. A typical third choice is matte. The names are pretty self-evident in that they describe how reflective the paper is. But let's get beyond the boring and obvious and talk about preferences, specifically, mine.
Glossy: I hate glossy paper. Glossy gives off a glare, it tends to scratch easily, and it picks up fingerprints better than most crime scene investigators. It can create brilliant color, but the only time I ever use it is in Asukabook wedding albums (which have a special coating and really aren't the same thing) or in metallic prints (I'll save those for part 3).

Luster: My preference for most purposes. Works great for wedding announcements and greeting cards because it doesn't scratch and pick up fingerprints like glossy. Luster is the perfect default choice (just ask Smugmug).

Matte: Labs don't offer it as often as they once did, and maybe because of that fact, matte tends to come off as a more "artsy" choice. I often make matte my default choice for black and white.

Done.

If only it were that easy. Each one of the above choices includes a wide range of options that your supermarket photo lab doesn't have incentive to offer. Think of it like this. You go to buy paint, and they ask if you want "gloss," "semi-gloss," "satin," etc. but there is only one kind of each. "But that is what happens," you say, "I go to Sherwin Williams, and I get Sherwin Williams paint." (And since we're on the topic, don't you find their logo of paint spilling over the whole planet to be just a tad maniacal? You can't stop me now, Mr. Bond. In just 10 minutes, my giant paint bucket will cover the earth in "Enticing Red" semi-gloss! bwah ha ha!).

The fact is, there are different kinds of paper under each category of finish. Spend a little time browsing the photo papers and art papers sections at inkjetart.com and you will begin to see how many choices are out there (three links in one sentence, they should send me free stuff). And the same thing goes for papers used by print labs. The luster Fuji Crystal Archive paper (used by Costco, for example) has a heavier pebble grain texture than the luster Kodak Endura paper (which I prefer). Next time you get a print done at a lab, turn it over and look at the paper, or ask the lab what paper(s) they use. Or if you print photos from your inkjet, look at the inkjet art forum (that's four links!) and see how many choices are out there.

It doesn't have to get overwhelming, and there is no way I'm going to attempt to outline every option (as if I could). But I am going to get a little more specific in future posts during the month. Yes, I'm afraid there will be a part 3, probably a part 4. If you've heard enough about paper already, if I lost you at "luster," don't worry, as soon as get out over this stupid (cold? flu? who knows?) and get back outside, I have some more visual posts to keep things interesting.

Expanding your palette for photo prints (part 1)

Blame it on the really nice stereo system I got when I was 14, but I just can't listen to my ipod without expensive headphones. The same thing happened to a friend's wife, but with chocolate. A few months in Paris developing a refined palette, and now she can't order chocolate cake in most restaurants. It happens to everyone. Sometimes it leads to what we call "expensive taste." In children we usually dismiss it as "being picky." For the ill-mannered, it turns into snobbery. But for the polite, it is an expression of appreciation, of gratitude for good work.

When you look at a painting, do you see the picture or the strokes? When you look at a photo, do you notice the paper? the type of process? If you're an editor and you read my blog, you probably notice that I have an ongoing battle with punctuation. But hopefully (comma or no comma?) that doesn't get in the way of the message.

Since I'm spending a month about everything but the image, I thought I'd start with a look at printing processes and papers. My view on the choices is like my view on chocolate. I love a good Michel Cluizel bar, but I won't turn down a Hershey's kiss either. Each has its place (and that place is currently around my expanding waistline). And so while I would never criticize someone for liking Hershey's, that doesn't mean I don't think they're missing out if they haven't tasted chocolate from a plantation in Madagascar where mangoes once grew.

One of my goals this month is to look at the range of possibilities for printing your photos. Some will be cheap and readily available, some will be more expensive and more involved. There's a place for all of it, and I don't think that the most expensive is necessarily the best solution. The point is to explore the options. What's out there? How much does it cost? Would you want to try it?

When I first started my photo business, I was really into different kinds of paper. I offered various high-end art papers at an extra cost, but soon learned that most people really couldn't care less if their photo were printed on a nice heavyweight Hahnemühle cotton rag or on a basic Epson paper. It took me a while to put the paper back into perspective with the purpose. Just because one paper might be more expensive or better for art prints doesn't mean it is always the right choice.

Nevertheless, I have to warn you. Exploring your options can be dangerous. Keep reading this month, and you might develop some new expensive habit. For that, I apologize in advance. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Just before coming to Paris, it looked like my ipod had stopped working. I took it to the Apple store and the "genius" told me that my earphones had died. He offered me a free one of those plain white kind that come with an ipod. I rejected the little white bundle on impulse, quickly pushing it back to the other side of the counter. "No thanks," I said, trying my best to look gracious. Surely he understood. His t-shirt says "genius" after all.