Until recently, few of our fellow Americans had any knowledge of the graphic arts, much less any appreciation of fine prints. In the fall of 1956 a group of directors and curators of leading museums, print collectors, arists, dealers, and prominent persons in the academic world, initiated a movement to stimulate public interest in original prints. From their meeting resulted the Print Council of America, Inc., a nonprofit, tax exempt organization.

Almost immediately the activities of the Print Council proved to be of significant benefit to the public, as well as to artists, museums, graphic workshops, print clubs, and private collectors. The Council publishes and circulates News of Prints and the Print Exhibitions Calendar. The number of exhibitions listed in the Calendar has doubled since it was first issued — dramatic proof of increasing interest in prints. The Print Collector's Yearbook is in preparation. The Council has awarded fellowships to train print curators. An outstanding project was the multiple exhibition American Prints Today — 1959, shown simultaneously in eight museums, then simultaneously in eight others — all using identical catalogs. Thereafter the exhibition was further circulated in the United States; also, in 1960-62 in France and Canada.

One of the stated purposes of the Council — which is dedicated to the diffusion of knowledge about prints — is to "promulgate standards, codes, formulas, and recommend procedures" in the graphic arts.

In 1960 the Council undertook preparation of a publication on originality in graphic art, designed to contain suggested standards and guides for artists, dealers, publishers, collectors, and the general public. Joshua Binion Cahn, Esq., counsel to the organization, acted as coordinator of the project and editor of this booklet embodying the Council's decisions.

Directors of the Council and others contributed to the study from their vast knowledge and experience. Mr. Carl Zigrosser prepared a paper on the historical background of the concept of originality in prints, which appears elsewhere in this publication. Miss Dore Ashton, a well-known art critic who has long been concerned over deceptive practices in this field, gave valued assistance. Dealers who were consulted and were most helpful included Mr. Peter Deitsch and Mr. Herman B. Wechsler.

A conference of artists resulted in the formulation of the artists' guide. Those participating were Messrs. Antonio Frasconi, Misch Kohn, Mauricio Lasansky, Gabor Peterdi, and Benton Spruance.

The International Association of Plastic Arts, UNESCO House, Paris, has formulated a "declaration on original works of graphic art." Mr. Theodore Gusten, executive secretary of the Council, carried on extensive correspondence with Mr. Berto Lardera, secretary-general of the Association, exchanging views with respect to proper standards. Many of the suggestions contained herein were incorporated in the draft adopted by the Third International Congress of Plastic Arts, held in Vienna, September 1960, which is reproduced on page 28 [omitted]. The representative at the Congress for graphic arts of the United States was Mr. Gabor Peterdi whose attendance was made possible by a grant from the Print Council of America.

In recent years there has been a phenomenal growth of interest in making and collecting prints. The print has gained increasing recognition as a major art form; it has become more important in an economic sense as well as aesthetically. There is, therefore, an increased necessity for standards of originality and for knowledge of artistic and trade practices. We hope that this booklet will meet some of the needs of those interested in original prints.

Lessing J. Rosenwald

It would be highly desirable for artists to adopt uniform practices with respect to numbering and signing prints. It is not clear at present what the artist's signature on a print stands for, and in some cases editions are deceptively numbered and described.

The artist should have the maximum participation possible in making the plate, block, stone or the like, and in printing from it. When he does all such work hinself, that fact may be indicated either by the use of the term "imp" following his signature or by some other appropriate indication. When the artist does not do all the work himself, an appropriate indication disclosing the facts should appear on each print; e.g., where Mr. Jones, an artist, does not do his own printing but has it done by Mr. Smith, one proper type of indication would be "Jones del." — "Smith imp."

However, in transfer lithography, where the artist made a drawing on transfer paper with lithographic ink or crayon, for the purpose of having the image thereafter transferred to a stone without photographic processes, the artist may be considered as having made the image which is on the stone.

An artist should not sign a reproduction of his work unless it is clearly indicated that the work is a reproduction and not an original print. Trial proofs pulled while work is in progress, representing various unfinished states, are not part of the edition. All impressions from the completed plate are part of the same edition. The maximum size of the edition should appear on each impression. The artist is free to print less but not more than the number indicated. Artist's proofs are included in the total number of the edition — the number of such proofs being entirely in the discretion of the artist.

There is no reason, from an aesthetic standpoint, why the number of prints in an edition should be limited, except that the quality of impressions may deteriorate in certain media if too many are printed. However, if it is claimed that an edition is limited, it must be limited in fact.

An edition should be referred to as "limited" only when each print shows the total size of the edition. No hard and fast rule can be made at present as to the serial numbers upon each print in an edition. In certain media — for example, drypoint and aquatint — the first prints pulled are often superior to later ones. However, for color prints two or more plates are used and after the first printing, the prints are usually hung up to dry. It is unlikely that the second printing will be done in the same order as the first; thus, the individual number on the print is often misleading. Artists should use their best efforts to number individual prints correctly and to formulate standards for such numbering. Until such standards are universally accepted, the serial number on many prints will have little significance.

If, after an edition has been pulled, the artist decides to re-use the plate, he may do so with different colors, provided the new edition is marked "2nd Ed." and, if he reworks the plate substantially, further prints should be marked second state, thus: "2nd st."

When all prints to be pulled from a plate have been printed or if the artist decides not to print the entire edition, he should destroy the image (as, for example, in the case of a lithographic stone) or cancel the plate or other material, so that any further impressions will not be confused with the limited edition. Cancellation may be effected by altering the original shape of the plate in such a way as to alter the design; for example, on a rectangular plate a corner containing a part of the image may be distinctively altered from a right angle to a curve.

An original print is a work of graphic art, the general requirements of which are:

The artist alone has made the image in or upon the plate, stone, wood block or other material ,for the purpose of creating a work of graphic art.

The impression is made directly from that original material, by the artist or pursuant to his directions.

The finished print is approved by the artist.

There are four major techniques for making original prints. A brief description of each of these — relief processes, incised processes, lithography, and stencil processes — is found in the following paragraphs.

Relief Processes
The basic principle of relief processes is that of cutting away part of the surface of a flat block so that the desired pattern or image stands up to provide a printing surface. Woodcuts and wood engravings are well-known. Other materials used are linoleum, lucite, cardboard, chipboard, composition board, plaster, and cut paper. In the case of cardboard or paper cuts, the areas are built up to provide the printing surfaces.

Incised Processes
The principle of incised or intaglio printing is exactly the opposite of relief printing. In the intaglio processes, the printing areas are grooves, furrows or indentations lower than the surface of a metal plate. In other words, the lines or surfaces which are etched out or cut away from the plate carry the ink. The high standing areas are wiped clean and do not print.

In intaglio processes, metal plates, chiefly copper, are used. Some artists have used lucite, zinc, or aluminum sheets. The general division within the intaglio process are: engraving, etching, aquatint, mezzotint and drypoint. The term "intaglio" is often used to designate those prints in which more than one method is used. Sometimes artists refer to the combining of methods and techniques as a "mixed method."

Lithography
Lithography is based on the natural antipathy of oil and water. The image is made on the stone (or specially granulated zinc plate) with greasy crayon or ink. The texture of the stone is such that, if moistened, the water adheres to it in an even film except where the grease has been applied. When a roller charged with heavy ink is applied to the moistened surface, the ink adheres only to the greasy areas. After printing, the greasy image remains on the stone and the process of moistening, inking, and printing may be repeated.

Stencil Processes
In general the stencil process has been known to artists for centuries. Its basic principle is that of applying color or inks to the perforated or cutout sections of specially treated paper of thin material so that the desired pattern or design comes through the stencil to the surface to be printed. Thus all sections except those of the open design are masked out. Its most recent development is known as silk-screen printing. In the specialized field of fine printmaking this technique is called serigraphy. Variations of this technique are sometimes combined with engraving or etching to produce color prints.

In recent years there have appeared reproductions made by photo-mechnical and other processes, primarily published in France, which may seem to the uninformed to be original prints. They may be good reproductions but they are not original prints and they do not convey the aesthetic qualities of the original. To a degree they betray the original and coarsen its effect.

The difference in the price commanded by an original print and a reproduction acknowledged as such is largely a reflection of the difference in their aesthetic qualities. No one would wish to pay for an original only to discover that he has acquired a reproduction which is worth far less.

In several instances, the French reproductions referred to above, and others, have been signed and numbered in pencil by the artist and have been offered for sale for $250 or more. In other cases a so-called "original" print, for example, a color lithograph, has been made by a craftsman who copied and adapted a watercolor, drawing or oil painting by a well-known artist. Usually the craftsman's name does not appear and the artist has signed and numbered the limited edition of the print. Obviously the print is not an original print by the artist. Another more elementary instance of a trap for the unwary is the photographic reproduction of an original print such as a Toulouse-Lautrec poster.

Many prints appear which are technically original but which are offered for sale at prices far in excess of their value because they appear to be part of a limited edition which was, in fact, not limited. Lithographs by Miro and Chagall were published in the French magazine Verve in an edition of thousands, and there were also printed from the same stone "limited" editions of one hundred, numbered and signed. These numbered prints sell for much more than they would if everyone knew that the edition was really unlimited.

In an extreme case, a London gallery has cut color lithographs by Chagall out of Verve and has stamped on them a signature of Chagall and a false indication that the edition was limited to two hundred.

One of the theoretical advantages of a limited edition, aside from its rarity, is that the prints are likely to be of finer quality because they were printed before the plate or wood block became worn. If a prior edition was printed, obviously a misrepresentation has been made with respect to quality.

Another practice of which one should be aware is that of adding an artist's signature long after publication. Prints originally unsigned, either because they did not meet the approval of the artist or because they appeared in a book, magazine, or other unlimited edition, often turn up with the added signature of the artist, either genuine or false.

Some of these practices are fraudulent. If a false representation is knowingly made to you with the intention that it be relied on anbd if, under all the circumstances, it is reasonable to rely on it and you do rely on it, to your damage, you have been defrauded. If you can prove your case (often an expensive and difficult job, particularly when the false statements are not in writing) you can rescind (get your money back) or sue for damages.

Reproductions are dutiable while original prints are duty-free. If a custom declaration states that a print is a reproduction, the importer and anyone charged with his knowledge would be committing fraud if he sold it as an original print. The text of the pertinent provisions of the Tariff Act and Regulation is reproduced on page 30. [omitted]

A buyer might reasonably request a dealer to state on the invoice that the print purchased is an original print. Refusal on the part of the dealer to do so would at least warn the buyer that the dealer was not prepared to guarantee its authenticity.

The best protection is education. Exposure to prints not only increases one's connoisseurship and enjoyment of prints but is a pleasurable occupation in itself. Often, however, even the experienced collector cannot rely entirely on his own judgment. Very few have the inclination, time, or ability to become experts. Those who are not can best protect their interests by consulting reliable dealers or obtaining the guidance of museum curators. Buy prints only from those whom you know to be honorable and well informed. You should be able to obtain a written representation from the dealer describing the print in detail. The extent to which a dealer follows the recommendations of the Print Council (outlined in the next section), is a good index of his reliability.

Dealers should help the public to understand the difference between a reproduction and an original print and should explain the processes of printmaking.

Whatever is sold should be accurately described. As a reproduction, if it is a reproduction; as an original print, if it is an original print.

Dealers should obtain from publishers or other sources of supply assurance that the work is original, a description of how the print was made and other pertinent facts.

If the dealer knows or suspects that more impressions were made from the plate than are indicated on the print, he should inform the customer. Of course, if the dealer has reason to believe that a signature has been added, either by the artist or anyone else, he should tell the customer.

In all printed matter, including catalogs and advertisements, reproductions should be clearly distinguished from originals, and, where there is any question as to the originality of a print, a full statement should be made, showing among other things the processes used and who used them, both in making the plate and printing from it.

The concept of originality in prints and the value placed upon it have undergone many changes during the centuries since prints were first made. One must distinguish between several kinds of originality, a confusion partially due to the nature of the graphic processes. One meaning relates to the artist and his work. The original artist is the creator, prime mover, inventor as contrasted with the copyist or follower: Rembrandt as against Ferdinand Bol, or the Apostle St. John engraved by the Master ES as against the copy of the same subject by Van Meckenem. Two other uses of the word original are peculiar to printmaking. In prints, there are not one but many originals (used as a noun), since the graphic media were specially devised for the purpose of creating multi-originals. Each fine print is therefore an original, whereas of a painting or drawing there is only the one original. When used as an adjective, as in original etching, there is the implication that the print was designed and executed by one and the same person. Thus, in the original etching, Whistler's Nocturne, of the first Venice Set, the artist drew the design on the copper, etched it with acid, and printed the proof himself, in contrast with a reproductive print, such as The Massacre of the Innocents, which was engraved by Marc Antonio Raimondi but copied after the drawing by Raphael. There has been a tendency, recently, to limit original prints strictly to those in which the artist has performed every step of the process, including the printing, as in Whistler's Nocturne. Where the plate was executed in a relatively simple technique and no color was involved and where a large edition was called for, as in Whistler's Black Lion Wharf, the plate was turned over for printing to a professional printer (the Ellis and Greene printer, or Goulding). But recently with the use of complex intaglio techniques including color, as employed by Lasansky or Peterdi for example, the artist maintains that only he is capable of carrying out the ultimate intention in printing.

Today we are much more conscious of originality in all senses of the word than our forefathers were. In the late Middle Ages when prints began to be made in Europe, the idea of originality did not exist; there were traditional themes and traditional modes of depicting them which were transmitted from artist to artist and generation to generation. Artists copied and recopied each other's work without any sense of guilt. In the mediaeval, and to a large extent in the oriental conception of art, the artist's personality was submerged in his work. Pictures were not signed. The earliest signatures on prints were marks or monogrmams such as E.S. or MS (Master ES or Martin Schongauer); and it has been suggested that these marks — following the practice of goldsmiths — were hallmarks or guarantees of honest and masterly workmanship rather than signatures in the modern sense of the word. Gradually, however, as prints and easel paintings became transportable, and therefore acquired use and value as personal property, the artist's name became a valuable asset; and his production, issued under his own trademark, became almost a special brand of merchandise. Beginning at the time of the Renaissance, anonymity was replaced by the emphasis and exploitation of the artist's individual personality. The concept of plagiarism and forgery came about very gradually as a controversial issue. When Dürer went to Venice in 1505 to protest Raimondi's wholesale plagiarism of his Life of the Virgin series and other prints, the only satisfaction he could obtain from the authorities was that Raimondi was enjoined from using Dürer's monogram. In the XVII century artists occasionally received protection against fraudulent copying as a special favor from ruling monarchs. On certain prints published by Rubens, for example, are engraved the words cum privilegiis regis . . . (with the privileges or protection of the king). The first general copyright law was passed by the British Parliament in 1735 upon petition of Hogarth and others who had suffered from plagiarism and piracy. Thereafter, Hogarth's engravings — the series Rake's Progress for example — bear the line Published according to Act of Parliament. Since then, the artist's rights in his own design are fairly well established in most countries, in principle at least.

Again, today, we are more conscious of execution, the artist's personal touch, than were earlier print amateurs. They were more apt to value the print not for its own sake but as a surrogate of a drawing or painting. They were more concerned with a generalized outline of the composition as suggestive of sublime and noble design. They accepted the reproductive limitation of the print and did not demand the personal touch of the designer's hand. It must be remembered that the chief function of printmaking throughout its early history was reproductive. The "original" print, as we value it today, by Rembrandt, Goya, Degas, Mantegna, for example, was the exception rather than the rule. A striking example of this attitude may be seen in Van Dyck's Iconography. Of the hundred odd designs which Van Dyck made for his gallery of famous men, only five of the eighteen which he actually etched, remained intact. The other thirteen were "finished," and all the rest completely engraved by professional craftsmen after his drawings. He had intended to do the whole set himself, but had abandoned the idea because his own presentation was unpopular. Today we are extravagant in our appraisal of his original etchings, in comparison with the rest of the Iconography.

It was in the XIX century that the concept of the original print began to emerge in tangible form. The invention of photography early in the century was a critical point in the history of printmaking, but its full impact was not realized until the end of the century, when its applications to photomechanical reproduction were perfected. The effect was revolutionary and far reaching. As was said in Six Centuries of Fine Prints, New York, 1937: "Through the development of photoengraving, the line cut and the halftone, it (photography) stripped regular printmaking completely of its reproductive function. . . . The artist who now makes prints speaks not as a copyist but as a creative artist working directly in a graphic medium. This has necessitated a new orientation, a new justification for prints. They must stand or fall as an independent art."

There were also active spokesmen on behalf of the original print from about the middle of the XIX century onward. Whistler preached the gospel by precept and example. Seymour Haden wrote a pamphlet in 1883 The Relative Claims of Etching and Engraving to Rank as Fine Arts in which he coined the phrase painter-etchers and painter-engravers as opposed to reproductive craftsmen. For the purpose of his argument he classified all the creative virtues under the heading of etching and all the dull mechanical practices under the head of engraving:

"The essential differences between etching and engraving may, therefore, be described as of two kinds — differences of principle, and differences of technique — and these again be expressed, not inaptly, by some such formula as the following: 'Etching, depending on brain impulse, is personal; and the creative faculty being chiefly engaged in it, invention, sensibility, and the various attributes which make up the sum of genius, belong to it and constitute it an art. Engraving being without personality — except such as may be supposed to be involved in the act of copying or translating the work of another — originality, and all the attributes which attend the exercise of the creative faculty, are absent from it, and constitute it a metier.'"

The question of originals versus photomechanical reproductions also came up later in the XIX century. Sir Hubert Herkomer was sharply criticized in the British press by Walter Sickert and Joseph Pennell for selling photogravures of his paintings as original etchings. The influence of Whistler and Haden bore fruit in England and America in the high regard placed upon original etching at the beginning of the XX century. In spite of the fact that this appreciation was limited to etching (and, as it has turned out, often to etchings by artists of mediocre potential) it was a step toward the recognition of printmaking as a major medium. In France, although many of their great artists have made original prints in one form or another, there is still a large body of opinion which has no high regard for printmaking as a creative medium, and considers it a reproductive process for the luxury trade. Even after the photomechanical reproductive processes were fully perfected, "de luxe" publications were issued containing reproductions of paintings etched by mediocre artists or professional printers, designed to have a luxury or snob appeal (including such eye catchers as Japan vellum paper, marginal "remarques," limited editions, and fancy bindings), although in reality these "handmade" productions were inferior — as far as fidelity to the original paintings were concerned — to regular process prints. This fact and the presence of highly skilled craftsmen in printing and color work have brought about some of the questionable practices in vogue today in France. If there are fools, chiefly from America, eager in their ignorance, to pay high prices for reproductions in the belief that they are original prints, who is to disillusion them?

Printmakers in America, more than in any other country today, feel an obligation to perform every step in the production of a print from the preparation of the plates, blocks, or stones to the printing of the finished impressions. This may be due in part to a dearth of skilled professional printers, who might relieve the artist of part of the burden, and in part to a sense of dedication on the part of the artist to what he considers a major creative medium, and which impels him to participate in every step of it. There is among certain printmakers, as among certain abstract-expressionist painters, an uncompromising, almost religious fervor which exalts their self expression as a law unto itself. It is possible that too great a value can be placed on originality and absolute participation. One wonders if these printmakers in their eagerness to establish graphic art as a major creative medium of equal rank with painting and the plastic arts, are negating the very idea of the print as a moderately priced multi-original. Certainly the large size, the complexity of color, and the extremely limited editions of many recent prints are designed to compete directly with paintings. These speculations, however, are beside the point: the artist will go on to fulfill his destiny no matter what the critics say. What is pertinent is the high value placed upon original prints in America by the artists and especially by the public, relatively prosperous and eager to own original works of art. When a public, thus conditioned, is offered signed prints by famous artists which it assumes to be original prints but actually are reproductions by a skilled craftsman, then the question of fraud raises its ugly head.

The practice of signing prints in pencil is of fairly recent origin. The earliest prints were not signed at all. Later a signature or monogram was placed directly on the plate, block, or stone, either in the composition or in the margin directly below. Most reproductive prints, logically, have notations in the margin indicating the painter and engraver; for instance on the Village Dance is engraved on the left Rubens pinx. (Rubens painted it) and on the right Bolswert sculp. (Bolswert engraved it). Whistler and Haden were among the first to sign their prints in pencil. Whistler's later prints were signed with his Butterfly mark and the word imp., indicating that he also printed the plate. Whistler's and Haden's earlier prints were issued unsigned. The theoretical justification for the artist's signature in pencil is the implication that he inspected the impression and approved of it. It is amusing to note that Haden would sign any early unsigned print brought to him for the fee of a guinea. The later British and American Schools, Cameron, Bone, Arms, and the like, were quite meticulous in the printing and signing of their proofs. Today practically all prints are signed in pencil by the artist, and the signature is assumed to be a guaranty of authenticity and originality. Reproduction of paintings or prints have also been issued, presumably in limited editions and signed in pencil by the artist. The theoretical justification again is that the artist has seen and approved of the print. It is of course a legitimate enterprise. Jacques Villon made a number of color prints after paintings by Matisse, Picasso, and the like. The prints were issued in limited quantities, and each print was signed both by the painter and by the engraver. If, however, the craftsman-reproducer does not sign the print but the designer does, or if the work is reproduced photomechanically without any mention thereof, then there is nothing to indicate whether the signed print is an original or a reproduction. In this ambiguous light the practice of signing reproductions in pencil is highly questionable.

In the past there was a division of labor in the production of prints. The earliest woodcuts were the product of two sets of hands, the designer and the woodcutter or Formschneider. In the XVI century the names of the designers generally became known, whereas the woodcutters usually remained anonymous but often highly skilled craftsmen. We do, however, know the names of several, such as Lützelberger, who cut Holbein's Dance of Death, and Boldrini who cut blocks for Titian. Dürer did not cut his own woodblocks although he engraved his own copper engravings. We do not think the less of Dürer's woodcuts or those of Cranach, because they were cut by other hands. Among Chinese and Japanese prints likewise there was a division of labor between the designer, the woodcutter, and the printer; and the finest Japanese prints are held in high esteem. Here and today, the artists cut and print their own blocks; and even in Japan there is a new kind of original print Hanga, following the example of the West in uniting the functions of the designer, cutter, and printer. It has happened occasionally that electrotypes have been made directly from a wood block and that prints were then taken from the metal plate instead of from the wood, as for instance with some of the reproductive wood engravings of Timothy Cole. Although it would be extremely difficult to distinguish, on visual evidence alone, between prints from the two different sources, purists claim that only those from wood are entitled to rank as true prints.

In the early days engravings or etchings were probably printed in the artists' studios (Dürer's or Rembrandt's for example) by pupils and apprentices. Later, professional plate printers appeared: Bosse has a picture of such a studio. Some of the XIX century printers — Eugène Delâtre or Frederick Goulding — were renowned for the beauty and expertness of their printing. We do not value a fine Meryon etching the less for having heen printed by Delâtre. The technical treatment was relatively uncomplicated and the effect was dependent on straightforward drawing and subtle biting. A sensitive printer, given a model to follow, could produce any number of beautiful impressions up to the limit of the life of the copper plate. When, however, the plate became worn with repeated printings and was reworked and reinforced by foreign hands, the quality of the impressions deteriorated, as the sad specimens of late Rembrandts, Van Dycks, Piranesis, Goyas, and other Chalcographie prints can plainly bear witness. Nonetheless this negative judgment refers chiefly to the quality of the impression: such prints are still to all intents and purposes original prints, although pale reflections of fine early examples. Fraud enters into the situation only where some one, trading on the name and fame of the artist, misrepresents the quality of late impressions for commercial gain. The cultivated amateur or collector is much more conscious of printing quality today than in the past. If this were not true, then the various chalcographies of Rome, Paris, and Madrid would never have come into being.

The professional printer has been more consistently employed in lithography than in the other graphic media. Even today relatively few artists print their own lithographs. This may be due partly to the fact that a lithographic press is cumbersome and would occupy a large space in an artist's studio, but chiefly to the fact that quality in printing is dependent upon manual manipulation and intangibles of long experience. One cannot learn much about lithographic printing from a technical manual. Therefore, throughout the history of lithography, prints have been considered originals and in fact great masterpieces, even though they were not printed by the artist — Goya's Bullfights, for example, or the color lithographs of Toulouse-Lautrec. In making a lithograph it is possible for an artist to draw not only on stone or a metal plate but also on a piece of paper from which the design can be transferred to the stone by a skilled printer. The practice of transfer printing dates back to Senefelder's example, but some purists claim that prints made by this method are not originals but reproductions. The issue was settled once and for all in a celebrated libel suit, instituted by Pennell and Whistler against Walter Sickert in 1897 in reply to an article in the Saturday Review. Sickert had argued that to pass off drawings on paper as lithographs was misleading "to the purchaser on the vital point of commercial value." After a parade of distinguished witnesses and the citation of historical evidence, a verdict was found against Sickert, and transfer lithographs were established as legitimate original prints. Usually the artist, after the transfer has been made, continues to work on the stone. One use of the transfer does lead to questionable practices, namely when the finished drawing on a stone is transferred to another stone solely for the purpose of making a large edition. Some of Whistler's lithographs appeared in publications — The Studio, The Albemarle, The Art Journal, for example. Whistler's original drawing on stone was transferred to other stones for the production of the necessarily large editions. Whatever quality the hand proofs might have had vanished in the mechanical printing; and such prints on mediocre paper may properly be called reproductions though they sometimes pass for originals.

The technique known as offset lithographic printing poses a special problem. The design is not printed from the stone or plate directly, but from a rubber blanket which has picked up the inked image from the lithograph plate attached to a cylinder — a double printing, as it were. It is a process which eliminates rolling up by hand in the interests of speed and quantity printing. It therefore is a border line case more slanted toward reproductive than toward original production. But occasionally an artist (Charlot, for example) has drawn lithographs with this process definitely in mind, and has thereby created charming and effective original prints. Offset has also been used, in combination with other media (by Hayter and others) to add touches of color to color prints.

The silk screen stencil medium has been adapted for artists' use within the last twenty-five years. A number of artists who make original prints in the medium have decided to call them serigraphs to distinguish them from commercial silk screen reproductions. The process has also been used in conjunction with other mediums for the production of original color prints.

There are cases where a print was only partially executed by the artist, with assistance from other sources. May such works be classified as original prints? Corot, being primarily a painter and not a professional etcher, had trouble with the biting of his plates. In the etching Souvenir d'Italie his friend Bracquemond performed that service for him, no doubt with the collaboration of the artist, who, of course, drew the design on the copper. Such an etching is usually considered an original print. When Rouault was working on his series Miserere, photogravure plates were made of the preliminary drawings. These plates were then re-worked with burin, drypoint, aquatint, and the like, by the artist himself. Since the photomechanical work was transformed or incorporated in the artist’s own handling, the finished product may properly be regarded as an original print. Cézanne, who likewise was primarily a painter and not a professional printmaker, drew a composition Bathers on a stone. From a trial proof colored by Cézanne in water color, the printer made color separations and prepared stones for further printing to produce the color lithograph. This print, greatly esteemed by collectors, may be rated as more than half original, since the supplementary work was done under the artist's supervision, and was based on a model made expressly for the purpose. On the other hand, to cite an extreme case, a famous artist brings to a lithograph printer a completely finished gouache, made with no particular thought of its use as a lithograph and with a treatment appropriate to the gouache medium. He leaves it with the printer as the maquette for the production of a color lithograph. He does not perform any of the steps of the production himself, and furthermore the model he furnishes is not executed in a style adaped to the lithograph medium for which it is destined. The finished lithograph, duly signed by the artist, can be regarded only as a reproductive print. The technician, who translated the composition to stone, also deserves some recognition for his share in the final product.

In conclusion, one may summarize the problem of reproductive versus original prints somewhat as follows. Due to the impact of photography and photomechanical processes, a new attitude toward printmaking has developed which stresses the original, the creative factor. Printmakers now strive to make works of art; in the past they just made prints. The motivations were different. Then, there was no other way to produce many facsimiles of a single image; nowadays there are also photomechanical ways. In general, one may say that hand work is bound up with art and original execution as opposed to automation and mechanical processes. When Emile Zola wrote his pamphlet in defense of Manet's much-criticized painting Olympia, and it seemed desirable to include an illustration, Manet himself made an etching of it. It was not a reproduction of the painting, though it served as one. It was actually a translation of the subject into another medium, a variant of the artist's conception. We are grateful for the occasion which induced Manet to make an original etching, designed and executed by himself. Today such a pamphlet would probably be illustrated with a process color reproduction.

In the past the name of the artist or designer and the name of the reproducing craftsman appeared on reproductive engravings as a matter of course. Sometimes even the title of the picture and the name and address of the publisher (exc. or excudit) were also engraved on the plate. Today this tradition has been broken and it is not common practice to indicate the name of the reproducing craftsman on the print, with the result that such prints often pass for originals because everywhere the accent is on the original print.

In our era, then, the graphic artists — particularly Hayter and the Americans — tend to view printmaking as a major medium; and this point of view, which has also spread among critics, museum people, and the buying public, has tended to glorify originality and creation. It may be that too high a premium is being placed upon these values in the light of graphic tradition. There is an originality of design (which can still appear, although diluted, in reproductions) and there is an originality of execution (upon which the modern artists set great store). In past print history, the invention per se, the design and the message, were what the public looked for and prized. To be sure, the original artist of old also was concerned with the execution and with the effort to clothe his conception in the most perfect form possible. But that concern was his private affair, related to his artistic conscience, and of interest, possibly, only to his fellow practitioners, but certainly not to the layman in general. The modern artists (and through them now the public at large) tend to be conscious not only of what they say but also of how they say it. Indeed they almost make the latter the prime creative motivation. Thus, when they make a print, they maintain that it is a complete aesthetic entity, a perfect fusion of concept and form, a work of art which could not exist in any other shape or form, and which is fully the equal in validity and impact of an oil painting, irrespective of whether it exists in one or more impressions. But in any estimate of rank between major and minor art, one must remember that printmaking really cannot count on the still potent asset of uniqueness, as can painting, drawing, and to a lesser extent, plastic art (which also has its problem with casts as multi-originals). The transvaluation of printmaking from minor into major, however, is in the spirit of the age, and must be reckoned with. It is imperative above all that we come to terms with certain attitudes — hold-overs from the past — which, being less scrupulous in discrimination between original and reproductive, are causing confusion and misunderstanding.

These notes are designed to review objectively the conflicting standards of business morality held by some artists and some dealers. It may turn out that the problem is one of semantics rather than ethics. We must make the issue widespread and make clear just what the difference is between original and reproductive. These notes also aim to place this very modern problem into some sort of historical perspective in order to serve as a corrective, possibly, of any uninformed criticism from the modern point of view of various practices in the past. These procedures might be deemed questionable today, whereas they were quite legitimate in the framework of their time.