Impressions, editions & states

Last week I posted a listing of print abbreviations and terms, and previously I have posted definitions of various print terms. Today I will discuss three print terms which are of fundamental importance to understanding antique prints: “impression,” “edition” and “state.”

I probably should start by defining what I mean by a “print.” A single print is a piece of paper upon which an image has been imprinted from an object called a “matrix.” A matrix is an object (it is usually made of wood, metal or stone, but can be any material) upon which a design has been formed and which is then used to create an image of that design onto the paper.

An impression is a single piece of paper with an image printed on it from a matrix. The terms as applied to prints is used in a manner similar to the term “copy” as applied to a book. In a general sense, one can consider a print as the set of all impressions made from the same matrix. That is, there is both the single print (as a single impression) and the print in a general sense as all the examples of, say, Currier & Ives’ “The Road, Winter.”

An edition of a print includes all the impressions published at one time or as part of a single publishing endeavor. New impressions of a print would count as a new edition if there is a significant break in time before they were printed or if there were some change in the way the print is made. There can be all sorts of different editions, such as proof editions, first editions, later editions, restrike editions, numbered editions, and limited editions.

A state of a print includes all the impressions made from a matrix with there being no change made to that matrix. When impressions are pulled from a matrix which has been modified, these impressions form a new state of the print.

States of a print should be distinguished from editions of a print. There can be several editions of a print which are all the same state (for instance if the publisher decides a year later to republish a print but makes no changes to the matrix), or there can be several states of a print in the same edition (for instance if the publisher discovers an error in the matrix, fixes it, and then continues to print new impressions).

These definitions are nice and neat, but the issues involved are actually fairly complex. For instance, it is not clear whether one should call impressions pulled from a matrix where there is an accidental change a new state. Say a very slight crack appears in the matrix, which shows up as a faint line in the new impressions. Is this a new state? And as that crack widens, is each new set of impressions a new state? However, the basic intent of these terms is quite clear and in most practical cases it is clear to what they refer.

Printmaking Nomenclature & Abbreviations

One of the great things about prints is that they often contain a lot of information about themselves printed right on the print, usually in the space just under the image. This usually includes the title, but also often the artist, publisher, place of publication, date of publication, and printmaker. The only problem is that sometimes the terms used to identify this information is abbreviated, written in a language other than English, or both. To help readers understand this information, I will list (alphabetically) some of the abbreviations and terms one can find on antique prints.

A.f.

Etched by

A.P.

Artist’s proof

Appresso

Published by

Apud

Published by

Aquaforti fecit, aquaforti, Aquaf., Aq.

Etched by

Aquatinta, aq:tinta

Aquatinted by

A.V.

Augusta Vindelicorum; that is, published in Augsburg, Germany

Bon à tirer, B.A.T.

Proof print for use by the printer

Caelavit, cael.

Engraved by

Chez

At the house of

Composuit

Drawn by, referring to drawing from which the engraver, lithographer, etc. worked

Cum privilegio

Privilege to publish from some authority

Delineavit, delin., delt., del.

Drawn by (cf. composuit)

Descripsit

Drawn by (cf. composuit)

Designavit, desig.

Drawn by (cf. composuit)

Dessiné

Drawn by (cf. composuit)

Direxit, direx.

Directed by (head of workshop)

Divulgavit, divulg.

Published by

Dressé

Drawn by (cf. composuit)

Écrit

Written by (lettering)

Effigiavit, effig.

Drawn by (cf. composuit)

Engd., Eng.

Engraved by

Épreuve d’Artiste, E.A.

Artist’s proof

Ex coll.

From the collection of

Excudit, excud., exct., exc.

Printed by or published by

Ex Officina

From the workshop of

Ex Typis

From the printing house of

Faciebat, fac.

Made by

Fecit, fec., f.

Made by

Figuravit, fig.

Drawn by (usually after an original painting)

Formis

At the press of

Gezeichnet, gez.

Drawn by (cf. composuit)

Gravé

Engraved by

Gravire

Engraving

Hors Commerce, H.C.

Not for sale

Impressit, imp.

Printed by

Incidit, incidebat, incid., inc.

Engraved by

Inventor, invenit, invt., inv., in.

Designed by (the original work)

Lithog., litho., lith.

Lithographed by (either drawn on stone a publisher)

On stone by

Drawn on lithographic stone by

Par

By

Pinxit, pins., pictor, ping.

Painted by (the original work)

Scripsit, scrip.

Engraved text

Sculpsit, sculpt., sculp., sc.

Engraved by

Sumptibus

At the expense of

Zusammengetragen

Compiled by

Chine Appliqué

A chine appliqué print (also called a chine collé print) is a print where the image has been impressed onto a thin sheet of China paper (or other thin paper) and then that thin sheet is backed by a strong, thicker sheet of paper. These are fairly easy to spot: often the backing paper will age to a different color than the China paper, but even if not when you look closely at a chine appliqué print you can see the edge of the China sheet (usually just beyond the edge of the printed image).

Chine appliqué prints were made a fair bit in the nineteenth century for a number of different types of images. The reason this was done is because the thin China paper takes an intaglio impression more easily than a thicker sheet of paper, so that that chine appliqué often has a richer appearance than a standard print. This was sometimes done for proof prints (cf. blog on proof prints).

To this extent a chine appliqué print is often more desirable than a standard print, however there are several possible problems associated with these prints. First, the quality of the backing sheet is often not as good as that of a standard print, so this will sometimes discolor significantly more than the China paper, giving the print a somewhat distracting appearance. More importantly, however, is that a chine appliqué print is much more difficult to restore than a standard print. Any sort of immersion into water (which is often used in restoration) can lift the China paper off the backing and it is so thin that it can be difficult to reattach to the backing neatly. Chine appliqué prints can be restored, but only by a skilled conservator and there is definitely always the risk that the restoration will come out well. This doesn't mean one shouldn't buy a chine appliqué print with condition issues, but one must be aware of the risks.

Premium prints

I am particularly interested in the business of prints, that is the economic factors which influenced what prints were made and how they were marketed to the public. For commercial prints, as opposed to fine art prints (click here to read blog about differences), the printmakers essentially produced the prints in order to make money, either because they were commissioned by someone (a job order print) or because they believed that they could market the prints to the public (a speculative print). One type of job order print that is quite interesting but often overlooked is a premium print.

A premium print is one where a publication, usually a newspaper or magazine, would send out a print as a bonus to subscribers. Obviously, the idea was that this would encourage subscriptions, the income from which would make up for the publisher's cost in providing the premium print.

The earliest premium print I can think of (and if anyone knows of an earlier one, I'd love to hear of it) are a pair of prints commissioned by the Philadelphia Saturday Courier in 1838. These were two prints by J.C. Wild showing the Fairmount Waterworks and Girard College. On each print is an advertisement for the newspaper, along with the promise that subscribers would receive two premiums prints each year. For instance, on the print of Girard College is this text: "Pictorial Embellishment of the Philada. Saturday Courier a family paper of the largest size published at two Dollars a year in advance including two Engravings of this Kind Yearly." Though two prints were promised in future years, the only other premium print I know of for the Saturday Courier is the print "View of the Falls of Niagara" after John Vanderlyn which was lithographed by P.S. Duval, perhaps the following year.

On April 10, 1845, nearly all of Pittsburgh was burned in a huge fire. In less than two months a three part lithograph showing scenes of Pittsburgh before and after the fire, by William C. Wall, appeared for sale in Pittsburgh. In August, Whitney, Dumars & Wright, publishers of the Pittsburgh newspaper Morning Chronicale ran an advertisement for Wall's print to be used as a premium for another paper they published, The Iron City and Pittsburgh Weekly Chronicle. The advertisement read: “Splendid Pictures of Pittsburgh!!! Great Inducements To Subscribers! THE IRON CITY, And Pittsburgh Weekly Chronicle,… TO SUBSCRIBERS we offer the following inducements: each person remitting by mail, free of postage, or sending us otherwise, two dollars, the price of one year’s subscription, will be entitled to receive gratis one of WALL’S LARGE LITHOGRAPHIC PICTURES OF PITTSBURGH, Which give three different views of the city.”

These are quite early for premium prints and only a few others were issued by the end of the 1850s. In 1855, The New York Albion offered a premium of J.B.Wandesforde's “Niagara," and sometime in the same decade Sartain's Union Magazine produced a premium print of George Washington and his family, based on the drawing by Edward Savage. This print introduced the notion of using political prints for premiums and in the 1860s many of these appeared, most featuring images of Abraham Lincoln.

On April 8, 1865, just a week before the assignation of Lincoln, Frank Leslie issued a print of “Grand Reception of the Notabilities of the Nation, at the White House 1865." This print shows Lincoln, with Mrs. Lincoln by his side, at a “Grand Reception” in the White House, receiving General and Mrs. Grant in a room filled with most of the notable figures of the government and army. On the print is printed a price of $3.00. However, Leslie was the pubilsher of Chimney Corner, a "New Family Paper," and he used this print as a premium to attract subscribers. On a few copies of this print, Leslie printed an advertisement for the paper which explained how this worked, stating that "Every Person who pays Ten Cents each for numbers 1 and 2" of the paper would get the print for free. These copies would have been distributed thoughout his outlets in order to increase the sale of The Chimney Corner. The cost of two, ten cent issues was not a bad deal for a $3.00 print! In order to keep his subscribers a bit longer, Leslie promised to issue a key to the print, to be published in volume 4 of the paper.

My favorite Lincoln premium print is Francis B. Carpenter's “The First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation Before the Cabinet." Carpenter spent many month producing this print of Lincoln and his Cabinet, actually being invited to work in the White House with access to Lincoln and the Cabinet members. The print was produced initially by Carpenter to be sold as a separate print, but the interest in images of Lincoln spurred by his assignation, inspired the newspaper The Independent to contract with Carpenter to run off copies to be given out to subscribers. This is one of the great American historical prints of the nineteenth century which would have been received free by all subscribers. Quite a deal!

Another fine, large premium print from the 1860s is Thomas Hicks "Authors of the United States,” also published as a premium for The Independent. The publisher, Henry C. Bowen, wrote in 1872,

For some time past I have been giving Ritchie’s magnificent steel engraving of "Authors of the United States" as a premium for two new subscribers to The Independent and have given away nearly nine thousand without a single complaint of dissatisfaction. In order still further to extend the circulation of The Independent and to place this fine engraving within the reach of all I have decided to offer it hereafter until further notice, for one new subscriber. Any one may obtain this splendid engraving, postage paid, by sending $2.50 with his own name or that of any other party, not at present a subscriber. This is certainly the most beautiful and most valuable premium ever offered in the country for one subscriber. The size of the engraving is 19 by 35 inches. The steel plate alone cost me $4,500.00.

Premiums prints continued to be used especially in the 1870s, when many magazines offered such prints, often done in color. A number of foreign language papers, aiming at the immigrant population, offered such prints, including a chromolithograph of the Monitor vs. the Merrimac ("Striden Emellan 'Monitor' och 'Merrima'") for the Swedish language paper Nya Verldens in 1877. The Aldine was published from 1868 until 1879 as “the art journal of America.” Within its pages were fine commissioned images by such famous artists as Thomas Moran, who was the artist of two premium chromolithographs issued in 1874, including one of “The Cliffs of Green River," in Wyoming.

These are just some of the premium prints issued in the nineteenth century. Later this week I will post an article written by print scholar James S. Brust about some other interesting premium prints, including some by Currier & Ives.

"Proof" prints

What exactly does it mean when one says a print is a "proof." While the connotation of this term is clearly positive, it is not always clear what specifically it means. In the world of fine art prints the expression has a quite clear meaning. A proof is an impression of a print pulled prior to the regular, published edition of the print. Within this category there are a couple of sub-categories.

A trial or working proof is one taken before the design on the matrix (plate, lithographic stone or wood block) is finished. These proofs are pulled so that the artist can see what work still needs to be done to the matrix. The Otto Kuhler print above is a trail proof. Once a printed image meets the artist's expectations, this becomes a bon á trirer ("good to pull") proof, meaning that the artist has ok’d the matrix for printing.. This proof is often signed by the artist to indicate his approval and is used for comparison purposes by the printer.

An artist's proof is an impression issued extra to the regular numbered edition and reserved for the artist's own use. Artist's proofs are usually signed and are sometimes marked "A.P." (artist’s proof), "E.A." (Épreuve d'Artiste) or "H.C." (“Hors Commerce,” meaning outside the regular commercial run).

All this is well established, for with fine art prints there is usually a concern that the prints be run off exactly as the artist wants them and that the number of impressions be limited. In contrast, the meaning of “proof” is not nearly so clear for commercial prints. Commercial publishers realized that the positive connotation of the term meant that there was a financial advantage to offering so-called “proofs” for sale. Thus commercial publishers developed other types of proofs to offer to purchasers, generally at higher prices.

A proof before letters (Avant les lettres) is an impression of a print pulled before the title is added below the image. A scratched letter proof is an impression in which the title is lightly etched below the image. A signed proof is one where either the engraver or artist or both signed the print in the margin (that is, with a manuscript signature, not a printed one). The print of Lady Washington's Reception above is a signed proof before letters, with pencil signatures by both the artist and engraver. These are different ways in which publishers created "special" impressions of their prints, ones that were limited in number and so, in theory, worth more.

This is all fairly clear and there are examples of all these types of prints from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. However, the term “proof” ended up in the nineteenth century being used in a manner which essentially made it meaningless. One can find the term "Proof" on hundreds of examples of some prints, especially for the larger, steel engraved prints from the mid to late nineteenth-century. Indeed, for some of these prints we have found no examples without “Proof” engraved at the bottom. The print of Washington and Family above is one we always find with "Proof" printed in the bottom margin.

One assumes that the publishers of these prints did mean something by engraving “Proof” on these prints, but we have never figured out exactly what. It is obvious that the appearance of this label on the prints was meant as a sales tool, for the term has always been associated with limited numbers and higher value. However, so many prints have this term printed on them that “Proof” does not mean anything like the original meaning described above. It may be that these prints were intended to be “special” impressions issued in “limited” numbers, but certainly the numbers were not that limited nor are the prints really in any obvious way more "special" than the regular edition impressions (assuming there even was a regular edition).

So what does it mean when you find “Proof” in the margin of a mid to late nineteenth-century print? We get a queries about this all the time. The answer we have to give is “not much of anything.” We don't know what specific meaning this term was intended to have by the publishers (if anyone has ever seen anything from a publisher explaining their use of this term, I’d love to hear about it..), and it really doesn’t make any difference at all in price of these prints. I guess if there were two copies available of a print, one with "Proof" and one without, I'd pick the one with "Proof" on it if everything else was the same. However, if there were even a small difference in condition, I'd choose the print in better shape whether a "Proof" or not.

Numbered prints

There is a lot of confusion over what it means to have a “numbered” print, so I will discuss the issue in today’s blog. What people usually mean when they say that a print is numbered, is that the artist or printer or publisher has indicated that the print in question was the Xth print out of a total of YY made. This is usually indicated with a pencil notation in the margin in the form X/YY.

So, for instance, if Thomas Willoughby Nason produced a total of only 200 impressions of his print of “Upland Pastures,” then he would mark the fifth print that he pulled from the woodblock as “5/200” and the eighty-ninth he pulled off the block as “89/200” and so on. This was intended as an indication to a potential buyer that there was only a limited number of these prints made (200) and that this one was one of the official group (number 89).

It is important to realize that this numbering is really only a marketing stratagem, not something that has anything to do with the intrinsic quality or value of the print. Artists numbered prints simply so that buyers would know that the run was limited and that their print was one of the official run. The presence of numbering does not in itself make the print any more or less valuable, it just allows us to have knowledge of a couple of important facts about the print.

It is, however, quite clear that for prints by artists who did number their prints (and there are many who didn’t), it is important to have the number on the print, for that does tell us those important facts. While it is true that if Nason did not number his prints they would still be just as valuable, for those prints he did number, you want to make sure you have an impression with the numbering. Where a particular print was numbered by the artist, any impression without a number is probably one that is a reproduction or a later restrike, not from the original series, and that of course means that impression has considerably less value.

There a number of reasons why prints are not numbered. First off, numbering of a print is a relatively modern notion. It was only in the late nineteenth century, with the etching revival, that prints began to be numbered. Before that time there was no need to number prints---all prints were run off in limited numbers. Printing processes were such that huge runs of prints could not be made and also there wasn’t a large enough market that anyone would run off more than a relatively limited number of impressions. Before the mid-nineteenth century, no one worried about there being a huge number of impressions of any print, so why would anyone bother to number theirs? It is much like how now-a-days television broadcasts from around the world often are noted as being either “Live” or “Recorded earlier.” Fifty years ago, no television broadcast of an event from overseas could be shown live, so no one would have thought to bother to label a broadcast as “Recorded earlier.” Likewise, before the later nineteenth century, no printmakers would have thought of numbering their prints.

A second reason many prints are not numbered is that the numbering of prints is really limited to “fine art” prints that were intended to be marketed to discerning collectors who cared about such things. Most prints, as discussed in an earlier blog, are commercial prints that were not aimed at a collectors market and for those prints there was no reason to bother to number them. Most of these prints were, of course, issued in far greater number than the fine art prints which were numbered, but some of these are very rare today and, as discussed earlier, scarcity is not that important a factor in the value of most of these prints.

Finally, many modern, fine art printmakers just didn’t bother to number their prints. This could be for a number of reasons, such as the possibility they didn’t want to limit how many impressions they could run off, or they didn’t feel that it would help sell their prints, or whatever. Many modern prints are official impressions from a limited series even though they lack numbering. What is important for those who are purchasing modern, fine art prints is that you know whether the series in question was numbered. If you are looking at a print from a series that was never numbered, then the absence of a number means nothing, but if the series was numbered and the one you are looking at does not have one, you should either avoid that print or make sure you are paying only an appropriate price for such an impression.

The discussion above refers only to numbered prints in the usual sense of an indication that a particular print is impression X out of YY made. Many antique prints have just a single number of them, and one of the most common queries we get on our web site or at Antiques Roadshow is what this type of number means. Are these “numbered prints?” No; these are not what is usually considered a numbered print. These single numbers which appear on prints are what is called “stock” or “catalog” numbers, for they are the number of the print in a stock list or a print catalog issued by the printmaker. The same stock number appears on every example of that print. This number was used so that if you are a framer or printseller and you want to order prints from the publisher, you just put in an order for print #26 or three copies of #12 and two of #48, and so on.

A stock or catalog number is typically a single number that appears on the print, usually somewhere along the bottom. These numbers appear on quite a number of the mid-nineteenth century prints by publishers such as Currier & Ives or the Kelloggs, and also on many of the later decorative prints from the late 19th or early 20th century, by such publishers as J. Hoover & Sons. This means nothing about the print other than at one time it was listed in a stock list or catalog and identified by the publisher with the number. It adds no value to the print and is unrelated to the fine art “numbered prints” discussed above.

Originals and restrikes

Original prints can be divided into those that are original strikes and those that are restrikes. An original strike of a print is one that was printed as part of the original publishing venture, or as part of a directly connected, subsequent publishing venture. This contrasts with a restrike, which is a print that was produced from the original hand-made matrix, but that was printed at a later time as part of new publishing venture.


This is a bit vague and it isn’t always clear when to call a print a restrike or just a later edition of the original. However, the basic idea is whether a print is-—both in time and intent—-part of a direct continuation of the original production or whether it is distant in time and intent. For instance, prints from the second edition of Mark Catesby’s Natural History (1754) are clearly just a later edition of the first edition prints (1731-43). The second edition was published by Mark Catesby’s friend, George Edwards, and they were intended simply as a reissue of the first edition. They are close in both time and intent.

Catesby's prints were issued several times after the second edition, with prints struck as late as 1815 (identifiable because of the dated watermarks). In contrast to the second edition prints, I would consider these nineteenth century prints to be restrikes, not simply later editions. These prints were issued about three-quarters of a century after the first edition and the intent of their publication then was quite different than when Catesby first issued his Natural History. When first issued, Catesby's prints were new, scientific plates of the wildlife from a distant and still relatively unknown land. By the early nineteenth century, the plates were as much, if not more, decorative as opposed to scientific prints.

But what about those prints from the third edition, issued in 1771 by Benjamin White? This is closer in time and intent to the original edition, but still the publication was many decades later and the publishing venture was done for quite different reasons than Catesby’s original intent. So an argument could be made either way. I tend to think of these as original Catesby prints, but one can also consider them as restrikes.

Of course, the term “restrike” is one we use for convenience, simply expressing a different way we can look at a print. There is no absolute parameters for the term that allows one to determine whether a print is a restrike or not. This is unlike with the notion of a reproduction (cf. earlier blog) where the definition determines absolutely whether a print is an original print or a reproduction. It is not so simple with the notion of a restrike, for a restrike is an original print because it is printed from a matrix made by hand. It is simply an original print that we consider to be separated in time and intent from the early strikes. So, what difference does it make whether a print is an original strike or a restrike?
There are a number of ways a restrike differs from an early strike that might make a difference. First, if one looks at a print as an historic artifact, an object that played a part in our history, then a restrike is quite different than an original strike. A restrike, being made later and as part of a different publishing venture, will not have the same connection with our history as an original strike. So, for instance, a print of the War of 1812 issued about 1815, is an object which played a role at the time, whereas a twentieth century restrike has meaning only as a reflection of our past, not as part of it.
Another way in which a restrike can differ materially from an original strike is in terms of quality. Over time, the matrix can become worn or damaged, and so restrike impressions will often not have the same quality as an early strike. Sometimes copper plates are steel faced, which can prevent wear, but most restrikes are of lesser quality than early strikes. This is particularly noticeable in British sporting prints, which were often printed and reprinted many times over a long period of time (some nineteenth century prints are still being printed in London today!). The restrikes are often quite worn, with texture and background detail lacking. One clue to spot a restrike is that they are often more heavily colored than early strikes, as the publisher tries to hide the plate wear by adding extra color. This can be seen in many British sporting prints and also in the early nineteenth century Catesby prints.
In terms of value, these two material differences between original strikes and restrikes (historical context and quality) mean that the latter are of considerably less value than the former. The further distant a restrike is from an early impression in either of these factors, the less will be the value of the restrike relative to the original. Quality always matters, so worn impressions will be worth considerably less than a sharp first strike. Interestingly, the distance in historical context doesn’t matter for some prints, for instance with British sporting prints, so if the quality of these prints is close to that of the early strikes, so too will be the value. For other prints, however, such as political cartoons, the historical context matters a lot, so an impression from years later, even one with no drop-off in quality, will have considerably less value than a period impression.

Originals and reproductions

At the Print Shop, we often get questions like, “Is this an original or just a print?” Of course, the answer is, “It is both, an original and a print.” As discussed in Part I of “What is a print?”, in the sense I am using the term, a print is a piece of paper on which a design has been imprinted from a matrix made of some selected medium, usually stone, wood, or metal. An original print is one printed from a matrix on which the design was created by hand. This contrasts with a reproduction where the design on the matrix was produced by some sort of photomechanical process or the print was made directly from digital information without an intervening matrix.

A photomechanical or process print is created from a matrix upon which the image has been photographically transferred from an original source. There is no direct hand work involved in creating the matrix and thus a photomechanical print is considered to be a reproduction rather than an original print. Photomechanical methods were developed in the late nineteenth century. A common characteristic of many photomechanical prints is their use of half tone screens which produce an image composed of many small dots. Photomechanical prints include line blocks, half tones, photogravures, photolithographs, and collotypes. Today many reproductions are created by a digital process that creates a giclée.

There is, of course, nothing wrong with a reproduction as such. The quality of a reproduction can be very good and the appearance sometimes almost indistinguishable from an original. Purely on visual grounds, a reproduction can be just as good as an original, and a good reproduction can thus be an affordable way for people to enjoy the appearance of an antique print without having to pay the price of one. A facsimile is a reproduction that is intended to be as close to the original as possible, done on the same scale and with the same appearance. Facsimiles can be particularly good for decoration or scholarly study. The most important thing about a reproduction, however, is that a prospective buyer knows that it is a reproduction and that the price is appropriate for a reproduction.

Value of reproductions

Reproductions do not have the same inherent value as originals and should not be sold for anything like the same price. An original print has value both because of its appearance and quality (which reproductions can replicate to some extent), and also as an historic artifact. Being hand-made, original prints are intimately connected with the printmakers, and being issued in a particular historic context, they have meaning as artifacts from our history. Prints had an impact in the time they were first published and as such are part of our past. Reproductions can echo that history, but they are not part of that history.

Also, reproductions are something that essentially can be duplicated, whereas originals have a unique identity. One can never recreate the exact same original, making an identical historic artifact, for even if one exactly duplicates the process, there will be a difference in the context in which the copy is made. The essence of a reproduction, however, is not the context in which it is produced, but how closely it copies the original. This can be duplicated over and over.

Consider, for instance, facsimiles of John James Audubon’s double elephant prints from his Birds of America. Since the 1970s, almost a dozen different series of full-size facsimiles have been produced. (Visit Ron Flynn’s excellent article on Audubon facsimiles to read more about these series) These prints were produced by different processes and generally the results are quite good. It can be difficult to tell a facsimile from an original if the print is in a frame (the watermark in the paper is about the only really fool-proof way to determine an original). As the original aquatints can be very expensive (a number sell for in the six figures) and as there is nothing else like them visually, it is terrific that these high-quality facsimiles are around for those who want the look without the cost.

However, there is the question of their value. Some of these facsimiles have been sold for very large prices and that, to my mind, is not a good thing. These are sometimes sold as “collectible” or “rare,” with the implication being that their value should be high. Does that make sense? I think not. The problem is that any reproduction can be redone with the same or better quality and the new reproduction will be just as good (or better) than the earlier one. The value of a reproduction doesn’t come from its being a historic artifact, but rather from how well it duplicates the appearance and quality of the original. Any reproduction should have the same value as any other reproduction of the same quality and closeness of appearance.

So, if you paid a lot for a particular facsimile because it is rare and well made, but then someone creates a new facsimile of the same quality but at lower price, there is nothing to sustain the value you paid for the older facsimile. New print making techniques (such as giclée) usually mean that new reproductions can be made of excellent quality but sold for a low price, so this is a big risk for anyone paying a high price for a reproduction, no matter how good.

What should you pay for a reproduction? There is a cost to make a good quality reproduction, especially for prints as large as the Audubon prints, and no publisher is going to bother making a series of reproductions unless he can make a profit above those costs. So, basically you should pay a price that includes a reasonable profit on top of production costs. This provides downside protection in case someone comes along with a much cheaper, but just as good quality reproduction, for while production costs might go down in the future, in this way you not are paying an inflated price that includes a “scarcity value” which just might disappear.

Reproductions, then, can be fine things to buy. They let more people have access to the wonderful images found in antique prints at prices they can afford. It is, however, important to know what it is you are buying and not to pay more than what the reproductions are worth.