Original vs. Art Print: Which is better for my first art purchase? 🎨
- SCJ
- Nov 24
- 7 min read
There's a question I get asked constantly, especially by those who are approaching art for the first time: Should I buy an original work or an art print?
It's a legitimate question. Art can seem like an inaccessible territory, full of unwritten codes and prices that are sometimes difficult to understand. But the truth is simpler than it seems: there is no single right answer. There's no universal right answer. There's only the right answer for you, right now.
Before I tell you anything else, let me confess something: on the walls of my home—in my living room, hallways, everywhere—I have both. I have my own originals, yes. But I also have prints I bought years ago from Madrid illustrators and artists: a watercolor from an illustrator at El Rastro flea market, a print from an artist I discovered in a frame shop. Searching for local art became both a ritual and a pleasure. And I still keep them up, on display, because I love them and they're part of my story. They remind me of the person I was when I bought them, of afternoons browsing artists' websites, and weekends wandering the city looking for art when I had no idea what I was doing.
So when I say I understand your doubt, I mean it. I also started—and continue—buying prints. And I don't regret a single one. I adore every single one of them.
The original: when you want something one-of-a-kind ✨
An original is, quite literally, irreplaceable. It's the result of hours in front of the canvas, decisions made layer by layer, corrections hidden beneath the final paint. When you look closely at an acrylic on linen, you see the texture of the brushstroke, the impasto, the glazes. You see the traces of the process—and in my case, my guides and my mistakes (of which there are many).
When does it make sense to buy an original? 🤔
If you have a large space that needs a statement piece. Large-format originals (from 70x70cm to 120x120cm) anchor a living room, office, or entryway. These are pieces that dialogue with the architecture of the space.
If you're looking to make a long-term investment. An original maintains and increases in value over time, especially if the artist continues building their career. In my case, works I painted five years ago have gradually appreciated since being selected for Royal Caribbean's permanent collection and winning the Carta Puebla Award 2025.
If you want to establish a deep connection with the artwork. Knowing that no one else in the world has exactly this. That this combination of colors, this distribution of forms, this energy captured on canvas, is exclusively yours.
The economic reality 💰
Originals require a larger investment—not because they're "expensive for no reason," but because they represent weeks of work, museum-quality conservation materials (Belgian linen, professional acrylics, protective varnishes), and absolute uniqueness. We're talking pieces ranging from €1,500 to €4,500 depending on size and complexity.
The limited edition print: accessible art without compromising quality 📄
Prints have a bad reputation, and it's unfair (though not surprising): Many people confuse them with cheap posters printed on ordinary paper—something from Ikea, you know.
A fine art limited edition has nothing to do with that.
I'm telling you this as someone who has prints hanging in her own home. That watercolor I mentioned from El Rastro, the one I bought years ago, still looks as crisp as the day I framed it. Because it was a well-made limited edition. It hasn't faded, hasn't yellowed. It hangs there, next to my own originals, and doesn't look out of place at all.
When I work on my limited editions, I think about that. Someone is going to hang this in their living room, probably alongside works by other artists they care about, and it needs to hold its own. That's why each print is made using Giclée technology on museum-quality Hahnemühle paper (300-350 gsm). This means colors are 98% faithful to the original, and durability exceeds 100 years under proper conditions.
But here's what makes the difference: each print carries my manual intervention. I handwrite the poem that accompanies the work. I sign and number each piece. I add unique details that ensure no two prints are exactly alike, even though they start from the same matrix. It's truly an intervened graphic work.
But here's what makes it different: each print includes my own hand-drawn touch. I handwrite the poem that accompanies the work. I sign and number each piece. I add unique details that ensure no two prints are exactly alike, even though they come from the same printing plate. It truly is an altered graphic work.
When does it make sense to buy a print? 💭
If you want to start collecting without a major initial investment. Prints range from €80 to €450 depending on size and series.
If you like several works by an artist and want to build a small collection. For the price of one original, you can get three or four prints that complement each other.
If you have smaller spaces or want to create a composition of multiple pieces. Prints in A4, A3, or 50x70cm formats work perfectly in hallways, studios, or grouped as gallery walls.
If you want to "try out" an artist before committing to an original. That's perfectly valid. In fact, many of my original artwork collectors started by buying a print.
If you're looking to buy prints in Madrid directly from the artist, without intermediaries. Contemporary Spanish art is much more accessible when you buy directly from the artist and establish a real connection with who creates the work.
So, what do I choose? 🎯
I suggest you ask yourself these questions:
1. What space do I have available?
Measure. Seriously. A large wall with a 100x100cm original needs space. A 30x40cm print in that same space gets lost. And vice versa: a 120x120cm original in a narrow hallway is overwhelming.
2. What budget do I have comfortably available?
The key word is "comfortably." Art should bring you joy, not financial anxiety. If an original piece feels like too much of a chore right now, start with a print. Your connection to the work will be just as strong—I assure you.
That's how I started. I vividly remember spending €30 on a print by an illustrator I loved and feeling like I was doing something important. I didn't have money for more, but that purchase made me feel like I was building something. Years later, I have pieces that cost more, but that print still means the same thing.
That's the beauty of art; feeling doesn't understand price.
3. What am I looking for: investment or aesthetic pleasure?
Both are valid. But if what you want is to enjoy a work of art that moves you every morning, a print serves exactly the same purpose as an original. The difference lies in future resale value, not in the daily experience.
4. Do I want something absolutely unique or am I interested in accessibility?
Some collectors value exclusivity above all else. Others value owning three pieces instead of one. Neither perspective is better than the other.
What really matters ❤️
After years doing this, I've reached a conclusion: what matters isn't whether you buy an original or a print. What matters is that the work speaks to you. That when you walk past it, you pause. That guests ask about it. That six months later you still love it as much as the first day.
I've seen prints lovingly framed occupying places of honor in beautiful homes. And I've seen expensive originals hung carelessly on the wrong walls.
The real value of a work isn't in its price—it's in the space it occupies in your life.
My own prints by other artists prove this to me every day. When I look at that print from El Rastro, I don't think "I wish I'd bought the original." I think about the Saturday I found it, the conversation with my husband while I held it—almost protectively because without knowing it, it was already mine: "Where should we put it? Isn't it beautiful? Should we get it? I think it'll look lovely next to the vase..."—and how I dared to buy art for the first time. That's priceless.
My personal recommendation 💌
If this is your first art purchase and you're unsure whether to buy original artwork or a print: start with a limited edition print. It lets you experiment with the process—choosing the piece, framing it, finding its place in your home. If after three months you're still in love with it and thinking "I wish I had the original," then you know what to do.
But if you discover that print gives you exactly what you needed, you'll have started collecting art in a smart, sustainable way. And believe me: it's the beginning of something much bigger.
Many collectors specialize in graphic work and spend years buying only prints from Madrid artists they admire, discovering local art in flea markets, studios, and small galleries downtown. I did the same. I learned to frame them, to find spaces for them, to trust my own judgment. When I could finally afford an original, I knew exactly what I wanted and why. And those prints never left my house. They're still there, testament to who I was when I bought them, reminding me that art isn't a luxury—it's a way of life.
Art is meant to be enjoyed, not to intimidate you. Whether it's a €2,000 original or a €150 print, if it makes your home feel more like yours, you've made the right choice.
Want to see the available artworks in both original and limited edition versions? Explore the full collection or write to me if you need help deciding what works best in your space.
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