Teaching printmaking to beginners: Lessons learned

Learning printmaking can appear more intimidating than it really is. A beginner may encounter lino cuts, intaglio plates, monotypes or photographic processes and assume that every exercise requires years of studio experience. My experience has shown that progress comes from making one small decision at a time: choose an image, prepare a surface, roll the ink, pull a print and look closely at the result. The first sheet reveals what needs adjusting for the next attempt, regardless of how polished it looks.

I am a New Orleans-based printmaker and photographer, and I teach through a mix of studio sessions, community printshop work and practical demonstrations. My own practice moves between traditional printmaking, film and wet collodion photography, darkroom printing and installation projects. That mix shapes my teaching: every exercise has a clear purpose, every tool has a safe way to be handled, and every beginner leaves with evidence of what they have made.

Start with curiosity, not perfect results

Early in my teaching, I planned ambitious first sessions. I demonstrated several processes, supplied complicated materials and tried to cover everything I knew. The students became tense, and the useful work disappeared beneath technique. Now I plan around a single outcome, such as pulling one clean lino print, and leave the rest for later. A modest result gives learners something they can understand, repeat and improve.

Observation comes before explanation. We look at paper grain, ink coverage, plate edges and the way a photograph holds shadows before touching equipment. This slows the session down in the best possible way. For examples of patient, materially attentive work, I often share Ahmet Hasımoğlu’s site with students, then ask them to find the detail that rewards a second look. Attention is a skill we practise, not a talent we assume.

The first lesson should establish a dependable rhythm: make, examine, name one adjustment and try again. I keep the demonstrations short, repeat each step and allow time for mistakes. Beginners need to see that an uneven registration or a pale corner is useful information, not proof that they cannot make prints. Confidence usually arrives after the hand learns what the eye has missed.

Teach a repeatable process, not a bag of tricks

Beginners retain a sequence better than a collection of techniques. I write the workflow on the wall: prepare the plate, register the paper, ink the surface, pull the print and label it. We use the same order for each exercise, changing only one material or variable. Once that order feels familiar, students can improvise without becoming confused about what should happen next.

Safety belongs inside that sequence rather than in a separate warning. Gloves, ventilation, labelled chemical containers and a clear rinse area matter, especially when I demonstrate wet collodion or work with a darkroom. I introduce hazardous steps through observation and supervised handling, never as an improvised first task. The longer account of my background and practice gives context for the photographic and printmaking processes I teach.

I also resist the urge to reveal every finished project. A handmade monotype may carry a surprising range of tones, but a beginner can first learn consistency with one block and one colour. Let students recognise the same result twice before introducing registration, edition numbering or multiple plates. Exhibition work has taught me that a print continues to change through labelling, editioning and presentation. The deeper skill is controlled repetition, and it deserves the first hour.

Make the lesson fit the learner’s setting

Classrooms in Australia can look very different from a New Orleans printshop. A beginner might arrive from a council-run community centre in Melbourne, a library in Sydney or a TAFE course in Brisbane, so shared rooms need sensible paper storage, flat working surfaces and checked ventilation before any wet process. A bring-your-own morning tea or lunch fits the rhythm of many Australian workshops. Label reusable containers and keep drinks away from ink and solvent.

The local market is equally practical. Small editions often appear at craft and design markets such as Finders Keepers in Brisbane or the Melbourne Makers Market, where stall fees, packaging and freight affect the final price. I teach beginners to calculate those costs before setting a figure and to explain the edition size, paper and process on the label. A clear price protects both maker and buyer.

Commissions need equally clear boundaries. Under Australia’s Copyright Act 1968, copyright generally lasts for the creator’s life plus 70 years, and creators have moral rights to attribution and integrity. A written agreement should cover ownership, reproduction permission, credit, edition size and cancellation terms. The Australian Consumer Law also affects consumer sales, while venues may require public liability insurance and state-based work health and safety procedures. ABNs, invoices and GST records matter when a studio works as a business.

The lesson plans I return to

After years of watching students learn, I have distilled my teaching into a short, repeatable pattern. Each exercise moves from demonstration to guided practice, then to a reflective conversation about the result. The final sheet is only one part of the lesson, but it gives the discussion something specific to hold.

For the first print, I use this compact sequence:

Make one deliberate pencil mark on the paper.
Carve a simple shape into a small lino block.
Roll a thin, even layer of ink over the surface.
Pull one test impression and label it clearly.

With a photographic process, the sequence becomes:

Arrange the subject as three clear tonal shapes.
Expose one test negative and adjust the timing.
Compare the contact print with the original photograph.

The productive discussion comes next. Learners identify the strongest passage and name one variable to change, such as pressure, ink thickness or exposure time. Then they make a second version while keeping everything else stable. This habit turns a technical exercise into a personal method: each print records a decision, and each decision prepares the way for the next.

Make your first print the start of a practice

Once beginners can work independently, the printshop becomes a place for exchange rather than instruction alone. More experienced printers can help with registration, paper handling and editioning, while newer members learn how shared equipment is maintained. My involvement with community printshops has reinforced the value of this model: knowledge travels faster when people share tools, time and accumulated studio knowledge.

For beginners in Australia, a local pathway may be a council art program, a university print studio, a makerspace or an independent artists’ collective. Start with an induction, learn the cleaning and waste routines, and ask which processes are permitted on shared equipment. Regular attendance matters because a studio culture is learned through repeated contact with the people who use it.