Limited Edition, Unlimited Headaches

|Catherine Hebert
Limited Edition, Unlimited Headaches

Limited Edition, Unlimited Headaches

From the outside, limited editions look glamorous: hand-signed, numbered prints with certificates of authenticity and a touch of exclusivity. But from the artist’s side of the table? They’re a logistical circus that can make you question your life choices.

The Paper Problem

Let’s start with the paper. Limited editions aren’t printed on cheap cardstock you can grab at an office supply store. They’re made on heavyweight fine art papers like Hahnemühle Photo Rag. A single sheet costs around $15–20 CAD, and every torn corner, bent edge, or misprint is basically throwing money in the trash.

Because the paper is so thick and fibrous, it’s not forgiving. One streak, one tiny speck of dust caught in the printer, and the whole sheet is ruined. I’ve written before about the difference between archival paper and regular paper, and nowhere is that difference more obvious than when I’m holding my breath while the printer feeds one of these precious sheets through. If you’re curious about why I use the papers I do, I also shared more detail in how we choose our paper.

The Printer That Rules My Life

Then there’s the printer. My Canon imagePROGRAF 1000 is a beast. It’s capable of jaw-dropping results, but only if I give it constant care and attention. I’ve shared more about it in this post, but the short version is this: the machine is both a workhorse and a diva.

It demands regular nozzle checks, head cleanings, calibration, and test prints that eat ink and paper before the “real” run even begins. Each print may look effortless when it reaches a collector, but behind it is a long chain of maintenance and micro-adjustments. And the whole time, there’s the constant pressure of knowing that a $20 sheet is sitting inside, one bad line of ink away from the recycling bin.

Signing, Numbering, Certifying

Once the prints are actually made, the real hands-on work begins. Signing and numbering sounds easy, but when you’re staring down a stack of twenty or thirty pristine prints, it’s nerve-wracking. One slip of the pen, one smudge from leaning your hand too close to the ink, and you’ve just undone hours of careful work.

Certificates of authenticity add another layer. Each one has to be printed, checked, and matched to the right print number. Forget to double-check and you’ll find yourself unpacking, re-checking, and repacking until everything lines up again. It’s slow, repetitive, and strangely physical—like an assembly line, except you are the entire staff.

Packaging: Sleeves, Tissue, Tubes

Limited editions don’t just roll off to a fulfillment center. They leave my own studio. That means careful packing: acid-free sleeves, interleaving with specialty tissue paper, and sturdy mailing tubes. It’s a ritual of layering, rolling, and sealing, repeated again and again until the studio floor looks like a small-scale logistics hub. I went into more detail about these choices in how we package your art prints.

If you’ve ever read what we’ve learned from a year of shipping art around the world, you know even the best packing can’t stop couriers from being… couriers. But on my end, I treat each package like it’s heading into battle, because that’s often what it feels like.

The Countdown Clock

Limited editions also come with a built-in clock. Once an edition sells out, it’s gone for good. That makes every launch feel like a gamble. Will it sell out quickly? Will someone email me in a panic the day after it’s gone, begging me to “just make one more”? (Spoiler: I won’t.) The pressure never fully goes away.

Why Bother?

So why go through all this trouble? Because despite the headaches, limited editions create a different kind of connection. They’re not just prints. They’re commitments. Each one is a small promise that I poured time, care, and a little bit of madness into it. And collectors feel that.

When you hang a limited edition on your wall, you know only a handful of people in the world own that same piece in that same form. That’s what makes it worth the stress, the printer tantrums, and the ever-growing tower of mailing tubes currently colonizing my studio.

You can see what’s available now in the limited edition collection, or read my earlier post on what makes limited editions different from open editions for a deeper dive into how I approach them. For display ideas, check out framing your art and showcasing prints without damaging walls.