The Anatomy of an Ink Layer
This is probably the biggest thing to get your head around. When you look at a giclée or digital print, the ink is microscopically thin, sprayed by a machine and absorbed *into* the paper fibres. It’s flat. Dead flat.
Screen printing ink is the opposite. It’s a thick, viscous substance made of pigment (the colour) and a binder (the glue that holds it together). When I pull the squeegee across the screen, I’m not staining the paper; I’m laying down a distinct, physical layer of ink *on top* of it. You can feel it. It has a presence. This is why the colours are so punchy and opaque – you’re looking at a solid deposit of pure pigment, not a mix of tiny dots trying to trick your eye.
Colour Separation as a Creative Act
With a digital print, a computer and its software do all the heavy lifting. An algorithm analyses the image and spits out the right combination of Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and Black dots to replicate it. It's incredibly clever, but it’s a reproduction.
For screen printing, I have to deconstruct the image myself. I decide how many layers, or screens, are needed. I have to think about how colours will interact. Will this yellow over that blue create the perfect green, or will it just make a muddy mess? This process, called colour separation, is an art form in itself. It’s full of creative decisions. Choosing to print a transparent white over a block of red to create a soft pink isn't something a computer algorithm would think of. It's a human choice, and it's baked into the DNA of the final print.
The Squeegee Doesn't Lie
Every single print in an edition from Oli Fowler Art is pulled by hand. That means me, a screen, and a squeegee. There's no "print" button. The final result is a direct consequence of physical action. The angle of the squeegee, the pressure I apply, the speed of my pull – it all affects the ink deposit.
It’s a bit of a dance. You're aiming for perfect consistency across the whole edition, but the human element means each print has its own microscopic, unique character. It's not a flaw; it's the signature of the process. It’s proof that a person, not a machine, made this thing. It's the subtle mark of authenticity that you just can't fake.
At the end of the day, what you're buying isn't just an image. You're buying the artist's decisions, the texture of the ink, the quality of the paper, and the physical effort that went into building each layer. It’s a tangible piece of a creative process, and that's something worth holding on to.
See the results of all this effort for yourself. Have a browse through the shop and see if you can spot the layers.