There's a certain German 1980s printmaking paper I turn down every time it shows up at the studio. It's beautiful paper, great weight, takes ink like a dream. But it smells. Not bad exactly, just that particular chemical smell from the sizing they used back then, and once you notice it you can't un-notice it. I've had pieces on that paper come back from collectors years later and the smell is still hanging on in the frame.

So I've become the person who sniffs paper before buying it. I can tell you which decades used which binders by now. People think I'm being precious. Maybe I am. But there's something honest about paper that smells like nothing at all, and I'd rather keep the empty space truly empty.