The Value of a Print in a Digital World
Chariot of Apollo, Study 1, Versailles, France. 1988, Image by Michael Kenna
Since starting my mono photography workshops with Simon Ellingworth, I’ve been exploring more galleries, reading more interviews, and looking more closely at how fine-art photographers present—and price—their work. One thing stands out immediately: prints are expensive. Sometimes astonishingly so, as in the image above by Micael kenna; it can be yours for US$27,750.
This week I read a fascinating article in Black + White Photography magazine by Michael Kenna, a photographer I have written about. Kenna explains that every print he makes is dodged and burned by hand in the darkroom. Even though he has a specific design for each image, the fact that they are crafted manually means no two prints are exactly identical. Because each print requires so much time and attention, he limits the print run to around 50 copies.
This raises an interesting question for those of us working digitally.
If digital prints are identical, what gives them value?
In the digital world, we create our “master image” on the computer. Once the editing is done, every print is technically identical—same pixels, same tones, same paper, same inks. The artistry is in the editing, not in the physical printmaking. So what is someone buying when they buy a digital photographic print?
A few things, as it turns out:
The creative vision — the hours (or years!) it takes to learn composition, light, timing, and technique.
The editing skill — subtle decisions in tone, contrast, texture and crop that shape how an image “speaks”.
The printmaking choices — paper, size, borders, colour profiling, presentation.
Scarcity — many digital artists now produce limited editions to preserve exclusivity, just as film photographers do.
Reputation and narrative — collectors often buy the photographer, not just the photograph.
But there is a reason the fine-art world still loves film:
a darkroom print is, by its nature, a handmade object. It carries a physical connection to the artist’s hands, and each print is slightly, beautifully different.
So can digital photographers earn a place in the fine-art world?
Absolutely—but it requires intention.
Digital photographers who make a living selling prints tend to do a few things consistently:
Limit edition sizes (e.g., 10, 20 or 50 prints, plus a couple of artist proofs).
Sign and certificate each print to establish collectability.
Print on museum-grade papers using archival processes.
Create a strong artistic identity—style, voice, subject matter.
Tell the story behind the work—collectors love the meaning, not just the pixels.
Control quality meticulously, so every print is perfect.
Price confidently, recognising that value increases with scarcity, not volume.
Some digital photographers—Brooks Jensen, Rachael Talibart, Michael Levin, Joel Tjintjelaar—have built hugely successful fine-art practices without ever stepping into a darkroom. Their success proves that the medium is less important than the craft, consistency, and intention you bring to the work.
Film or digital—what matters most?
Collectors don’t buy prints because they are film or digital; they buy them because they feel something:
A mood
A story
A connection to the artist
A sense of rarity and care
A belief that the work will hold its value
And that last point is important:
Value is created by scarcity, craftsmanship, and the reputation of the artist—not by the technology used.
Digital photographers can absolutely make a living selling prints, but not by thinking like “photographers”. They succeed by thinking like artists and printmakers.