Print, Original, Commission - What’s the Difference?

Let’s be honest for a second.

When you’re standing in front of a piece of art you love, you’re usually not asking for a definition. You’re not actually wondering about paper types or price points.

You’re asking something much quieter and much more personal:

Can I live with this?
Does this feel like me?
Does this belong in my space, in this season of my life?

If you’ve ever felt unsure about choosing the “right” option, I want to clear the air gently: there isn’t one. Hesitation doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. Often, it means you’re paying attention. I’ve been there myself. I once fell hard for a landscape; the colors were beautiful, the technique stunning, but I couldn’t quite commit. After sitting with it, I realized why: I was craving florals. The piece was lovely, but it didn’t match what I wanted to live with day after day. Walking away wasn’t easy, but it felt honest.

Art choices aren’t about rules. They’re about alignment.

So let’s talk through prints, originals, and commissions, not to push you anywhere, but to help you notice what might already be tugging at you.

Sometimes a print is exactly what you need, not as a compromise, but as a confident choice.

Prints tend to shine when budget matters, when you’re decorating a tricky space, or when you simply want art to live with you without overthinking it. Kitchens, bathrooms, sunny rooms, these are all places where originals don’t always thrive, but prints absolutely can. They’re also a beautiful way to support artists and small businesses while staying grounded in what feels sustainable for you. And prints aren’t just for “starting out.” They work in every season of life. Young, old, renting, nesting, downsizing; prints adapt. You can choose a size that fits your space and your budget, frame it with intention, and give it just as much presence as an original.

Prints give permission. Permission to start small. Permission to go bold without fear. Permission to say yes without a lot of logistics.

If your body just relaxed reading that, you might want to start by browsing prints and seeing what lingers.

Then there are originals.

Bringing an original piece into your home is a quiet but powerful decision. It’s a way of saying: this matters to me. You’re choosing something one-of-a-kind to reflect your values, your story, your attention. In recent years, I’ve become much more intentional about collecting original work myself, especially from small, local, and independent artists. Living with art that exists nowhere else carries a kind of gratitude and wonder that sneaks up on you. I still feel lucky every time I notice those pieces in my home. Originals hold time differently. Light interacts with them in a more luminous way. You can see the layers, the touch, the movement. My hands have been there. The energy of making is still present. It’s intimate. People sometimes ask who is “ready” for an original. My answer is always the same: anyone who feels drawn. There are no prerequisites. Budget does come up, which is why I work in multiple sizes. Smaller originals tend to feel especially personal. You step closer, you notice more, you build a quieter relationship with the work.

If you keep coming back to the same piece, if it won’t leave you alone, you might want to spend some time with the originals and see what’s asking to come home with you.

And sometimes, a print or an existing original almost works… but not quite.

That’s often where commissions begin.

A commission usually starts with a feeling: I love your work, but I don’t quite see my story yet. From there, we talk. About how you want to feel when you see the piece. About colors, movement, memories, moments, big or small. Commissions are meaningful because they’re collaborative. This isn’t a handoff-and-wait situation. We talk through ideas, review mockups, and adjust direction. Some collectors want to be deeply involved; others want to give me the reins. Both are welcome. The fear around commissions is usually about the unknown or the investment. That’s why I try to be transparent about my process long before anyone reaches out. You deserve to know what you’re stepping into. A commission isn’t just art for your walls. It’s your vision made visible, held with care and a little play. If you’re craving something deeply personal, you might enjoy learning more about the commission process and seeing if it feels like a fit. If you’re still unsure, that’s okay too. Choosing art is rarely logical. It’s often physical. A pull toward a color. A sense of calm. A spark of recognition. Sometimes it feels like freedom. Sometimes it feels like remembering something you didn’t know you missed. If you’re worried something feels like “too much” or “not enough,” you’re not alone. I feel that way when I buy art, too. Give yourself time. Sit with it. Notice your reaction. Strong responses usually mean something important is happening. And remember, paths can shift. Sometimes someone falls in love with an original and asks if a print exists. Not every piece becomes a print, but when people ask, I listen. At the end of the day, trust yourself.

Prints, originals, commissions, they’re all valid, meaningful ways to live with art. What matters most is how the work meets you.

If you’re curious, start by browsing. Come back later. Let the artwork speak to you as much as you speak to it.

There are no rules here. Just resonance.