Rembrandt carried copper plates in his pocket, an image that lingers with a certain quiet romance. One imagines the weight of them against his body as he moved through Amsterdam, the surface waiting, receptive. Etching into copper requires an intellectual patience that feels almost radical today—each line carved in reverse, each gesture made in faith that the final image will emerge only through time, pressure, and process. There is something deeply cerebral in that act, a quiet devotion to craft that resists immediacy and rewards those willing to look more closely.
That sensibility continues to define the art of printmaking.
It is a medium that demands attention. Etching, monotype, lithography—each process carries its own rigor, its own language, its own cadence. The result is not reproduction, but translation. Not repetition, but refinement. There is an enduring quality embedded within prints, a sense of permanence that feels both historical and strikingly relevant in the present moment.
That lineage finds a powerful stage at the IFPDA Print Fair, an institution that has, since its founding in 1991, insisted on the intellectual and artistic weight of works on paper. Its recent expansion to include drawings broadens the dialogue, though the core remains unchanged. The print, in all its complexity, continues to anchor the experience.
The benefit, held just prior to the fair’s opening, unfolded this year within the extraordinary Park Avenue Armory, in the Tiffany Room—a setting that carries its own layered sense of New York history. It offered a moment of gathering, of anticipation, of alignment around a shared belief in the power of the arts to endure and evolve.
The opening night, regrettably, escaped me this year. A quieter visit followed, allowing for a more deliberate engagement with the work itself—time to stand, to return, to consider.
That is where the fair reveals its true strength.
The works demand presence. An etching holds differently when one considers the reversal of hand and image. A monotype reveals its singularity through sustained attention. Lithographs expand in complexity, their layers unfolding gradually. The medium rewards those who slow down.
A few moments, in particular, held me.
At Wetterling Gallery, the work of Mike and Doug Starn offered a vision of the sky rendered through Ultrachrome K3, both captivating and quietly soothing, a study in atmosphere that invited stillness.
The John Szoke Gallery booth, as ever, carried its own gravity. The presence of Pablo Picasso remains undeniable, his prints continuing to reveal a fluency and immediacy that feel perpetually alive.
At Childs Gallery, Cameron Barker explored a more intimate register—hands reaching, lips hovering just before contact, desire suspended in that delicate, anticipatory moment.
Joan Hall’s mixed media works expanded the conversation further, introducing dimensionality and texture that challenged any lingering assumptions about the limits of the medium.
Then, the undeniable focal point—Hank Willis Thomas’s It’s Yours. An interactive work that begins with a familiar depiction of the world and quietly reveals something far more human beneath its surface. Engagement becomes essential. The work asks for participation and, in return, offers a deeper understanding of collective identity.
What distinguishes this fair is not simply the quality of the work, though that remains exceptional. It is the intellectual infrastructure that surrounds it. Panels and conversations operate at a level of depth that feels increasingly rare. The dialogue between Julie Mehretu and Susan Dackerman, marking Gemini G.E.L.’s 60th anniversary, illuminated the print studio as a site of innovation and exchange, where artistic language is expanded through collaboration. The conversation featuring Donald Sultan alongside Dr. Warwick Heywood traced the legacy of Tyler Graphics and the transformative impact of Kenneth E. Tyler, underscoring the role of experimentation in shaping the medium’s future.
Fairs of this caliber do more than present work. They build context. They cultivate understanding. They create spaces where collectors, scholars, and artists converge around a shared commitment to the arts as both cultural and intellectual capital.
The market reflects that commitment. Prints continue to offer a compelling point of entry, though their value extends far beyond accessibility. Institutional support, historical significance, and technical rigor contribute to a stability that is both reassuring and quietly powerful. To collect within this medium is to engage with a lineage that is both deeply rooted and continuously evolving.
The importance of supporting such spaces cannot be overstated.
They remind us that art is not incidental. It is essential. It challenges, records, expands, and endures.
Collect, always.
The sentiment feels less like instruction and more like a responsibility carried forward.
