The Printmaker

The cutting tools, and opinions about them. Whether they cut lino or wood, they have a set, they know which brand holds an edge, and they have a favourite V-gouge they reach for eighty percent of the time. A beginner's set of gouges from a craft shop is not a gift, it is a small insult. A single high-quality gouge in a size they use is a completely different proposition — that is an upgrade, and it is the kind of thing you buy one of at a time.

A press, or a spoon. Either they have a press, in which case it is a big piece of equipment they researched and probably bought second-hand, or they print by hand with a baren or the back of a wooden spoon. Do not buy a press.

Ink, sort of. They have ink, but printmaking ink is consumed constantly and the good stuff — Cranfield, Caligo, hand-milled relief inks — is a real step up from student grades. Consumables in this hobby are not a boring gift. They are the gift.

Really good paper. This is the highest-hit-rate category on the card. Thin Japanese kozo for relief work, heavy cotton rag for intaglio, hand-made sheets with a deckle edge. Printmakers ration paper — they will proof on newsprint to avoid using the good stuff — which means being handed a stack of beautiful sheets is genuinely liberating. Buy from a paper mill or a specialist, not a high-street art shop.

Ink in colours they would not buy. They have black. They have a red and a blue. What they do not have is a metallic, a fluorescent, or a transparent base for building layers, because those feel like a luxury when you are already spending on paper. Riso-adjacent colours in particular land well.

A proper baren. Hand-printing tools are the quiet centre of relief work and most people are still using a spoon. A traditional bamboo-wrapped baren, a ball-bearing one, or a hand-turned wooden burnisher — all of these are immediately used and immediately noticed.

Drying and storage. Wet prints have to go somewhere and most kitchen-table studios are pegging them to a string. A collapsible drying rack, a print box, a portfolio case, or archival tissue turns a pile of good work into a body of work.

Type and ornament, for the letterpress ones. Wood type, printers' ornaments, brass rule, a composing stick. This crosses from tool into object — a single letter of antique wood type is a lovely thing to be given and a lovely thing to own, whether or not it ever gets printed.

An apron that can take it. Waxed canvas, split leather, deep pockets. Studio clothes get destroyed and nobody buys themselves a nice apron.

Under £30 buys a pot of excellent ink or a pack of proper paper, both of which are used within a fortnight. £30–£70 gets a genuinely good single tool, a baren, or a paper sampler across several mills. Above £100 you are into presses, type cabinets and large-format equipment, which want to be chosen by the person carrying them up the stairs.

Buying a "lino printing kit". Every one of them contains soft grey lino, a plastic handle with four interchangeable blades, and a tube of water-based ink that dries too fast. They are for absolute beginners and they are not very good even then. Someone five years in will thank you warmly and never open it. One excellent thing beats a box of adequate ones every time in this hobby — that is more or less its entire philosophy.