The light that makes a photograph lasts minutes and never comes back for anyone. That is what makes photography special. Every single image is a snowflake. Each is unique. The beauty of photography is stopping time for others to see.
When an edition sells through, that photograph is never printed again. No reissue, no anniversary run, no second thoughts.
Each image comes with its own form of authenticity. Your number, the size, the finish, and the day it was made, each is unique.
Archival pigment on materials chosen to hold a black. Kept out of direct sun it will outlast the room, and in all likelihood the house.
Every photograph here is a limited edition. Nothing is open, nothing is printed on indefinitely. Most are capped at 250 across every size and finish there is. An edition capped at 100 is a Collector Series — fewer than half as many prints will ever exist, and it is priced and labelled as such from the day it opens. Each one is signed, numbered, and then retired for good.
A photograph you intend to live with for thirty years does not have to be settled in an afternoon. Under two thousand dollars, take it in four — a fortnight apart, interest-free, nothing quietly added at the end. Above that, the honest instrument is a monthly plan, and your rate is quoted before you agree to a thing.
Yes, and here is the exact schedule, published in advance so you can see the cost of waiting rather than guess at it:
Editions of 250
Fewer than 100 remain → +25%
Fewer than 50 remain → +50%
Fewer than 25 remain → +100%
Collector Series — editions of 100
Fewer than 50 remain → +50%
Fewer than 25 remain → +100%
A Collector Series is scarce from the day it opens, so its price already reflects that and then moves twice, not three times. Every edition of a hundred is a Collector Series and every one of them will follow this same schedule.
The same moment that changes the price is the moment the piece starts saying how many are left, so a rise is never something you find out about afterwards. Until an edition reaches the first rung it says nothing and costs what it always did.
Everyone who already owns a piece is carried up with it. The schedule rewards whoever moved first, by a rule they could read before they bought.
What will not happen is art described as an investment. The secondary market for photography is thin, and anyone promising you a return is selling something other than a photograph. Buy it because you want to look at it every day for twenty years.
Yes — signed and numbered where you can see it, and recorded again on the certificate. You should know which one of the two hundred and fifty is yours, and on a Collector Series, which one of the hundred.
All three finishes are made with archival pigment inks. Kept out of direct sun, they are built to outlast the room they hang in, and probably the house.
Often, yes. The listed sizes are what the lab offers in each material, but the walls of the world are not standardised and neither, entirely, is this. Ask.
Free across the USA and Canada. Beyond that, delivery anywhere in the world is possible, and my prints have already travelled. Email Justin@theartoftravels.net and I will put a custom quote together for you.
No — and it is fairer to say so here than at the end. Nothing is held in stock; your piece is made for you, at your size, in your finish, and signed into an edition the moment it is produced. That is what makes it worth owning and it is also what makes it unreturnable. Use On Your Wall before you decide, and write to me if you are at all unsure — I would far rather talk you into the right size than sell you the wrong one.
Yes, and without ceremony. Up to $2,000 it can be taken in four interest-free payments a fortnight apart. Above that, monthly terms run from three months to thirty-six, and your rate is on the screen before you agree to it. See paying.
215 originals. None of it stock, none of it sold on to a poster house, none of it hanging in the lobby of the hotel they stayed in last month. Filter it by subject, by shape, or by the dominant colour of the scheme you are building around.
Multi-piece installations, hospitality, staging and corporate commissions — all welcome, all interesting. You get me on the telephone, not an account manager.
Open a trade account →The only part of this site I cannot write myself.
[ One or two sentences in the buyer's own words. Ask for the specific thing — what the room was like before, what visitors say, which hour of the day it comes alive. Never edit it into marketing. ]
[ First name, city ] · [ Piece, size, finish ][ A designer or trade buyer, if you have one. Their objection was different from a private buyer's — probably lead time, sizing, or whether it would survive a client presentation. Let them say so. ]
[ Name, studio ] · [ Project ][ The third is the most useful: somebody who hesitated. What almost stopped them, and what settled it. A testimonial that admits a doubt is worth five that do not. ]
[ First name, city ] · [ Piece ]Every photograph on this site is shown the way I made it. What it looks like above your sofa, in your light, at seven in the evening — that is a different picture, and the only people who can show it to you are the ones who already live with it.
If you have hung one, send me a photograph of it. I will put it here with your name on it, and I will send you something for the trouble.
Send me yours →A piece you keep coming back to. A size you cannot settle. A commission. A room that has defeated you twice already. These reach me, and I am the one who answers them.
I am frequently somewhere with no signal at all. If a reply takes a few days, that is nearly always the reason — not that your letter went unread.
No returns — and it is fairer to say so here than at the end. Nothing is held in stock. Your piece is made for you, at your size, in your finish, and signed into the edition the day it is printed. That is what makes it worth owning. Put it on your wall first, or ask me — I would far rather talk you into the right size than sell you the wrong one.
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