Paper is inexpensive. The art is not.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately.

There is a strange assumption in the art world that the material an artist chooses somehow determines the value of what they create.

Oil on canvas feels important.

Bronze feels substantial.

Marble feels permanent.

But paper?

Paper can sometimes be met with a very different reaction.

“Oh… it’s paper?”

As if the material itself somehow diminishes the work.

But I've started asking myself: why?

Why should the cost, weight, or perceived permanence of a material determine the value of the art created from it?

We don't usually question the value of an outdoor mural because the natural elements may eventually deteriorate the painting.

We don't dismiss an ice sculpture because we know it will eventually melt.

In fact, floral arrangements and installations can cost thousands of dollars, even when the flowers may only remain at their peak for a few weeks, or sometimes just a few days.

We understand that their value isn't determined by how long the flowers will remain fresh.

We value the vision, artistry, design, skill, labor, and experience that went into creating them.

So why is paper so often treated differently?

Why does calling something “paper art” sometimes cause it to immediately be placed into the category of craft rather than fine art?

Somewhere along the way, paper became associated with craft projects, school assignments, greeting cards, and things we make and throw away.

And because the assumption that the paper itself is inexpensive, it's easy to make the mistake of thinking the art created from it should be inexpensive too.

Perhaps it's not the paper that needs to change. Perhaps it's the way we've been taught to see it.

The material is humble. The process is not.

When I create an artwork from hundreds of pieces of paper, I'm not simply assembling a craft.

I'm making artistic decisions about composition, color, value, texture, movement, proportion, light, and emotion, just as I would with any other medium.

The material is humble. The process is not.

When you stand several feet away from one of my pieces, you might simply see a portrait.

Come closer, and the portrait begins to disappear.

You start seeing the individual pieces.

The folds.

The layers.

The shadows.

The texture.

The imperfections.

The decisions.

And suddenly you realize that what looked like a single image is actually made up of hundreds of tiny choices.

Close-up of layered, folded paper in a Kairee Cardoso artwork

Paper is simply how I paint.

My brush just happens to be a strip of cardstock.

My brushstrokes are cut, folded, curved, and placed by hand.

And every one of them is intentional.

But what about longevity?

One of the first questions people often ask when they discover my work is made from paper is: “But is it archival?”

It's a fair question.

The short answer is: no, not necessarily.

Although there are papers specifically manufactured for archival use, finding archival paper in the wide variety of colors, weights, and characteristics that I need to create these large, intricate works simply isn't readily available at this time.

So, how long will a piece last?

The honest answer is: it depends.

There are many factors that will influence the longevity of a paper artwork: the specific materials used, exposure to light, humidity, temperature, framing, handling, and how the piece is cared for over time.

I can't promise that one of my pieces will look exactly the same 100 years from now.

But here's what I can say:

I create my work to be art, not to be disposable.

I take great care in how each piece is constructed, mounted, finished, and protected, because I want these works to be enjoyed for generations whenever possible.

And perhaps that's an important distinction.

Longevity and value aren't the same thing.

We can appreciate an ice sculpture even though we know it will melt.

We can value an outdoor mural even though its existence is subject to the elements.

And we can treasure flowers in an installation even though we know they will eventually fade.

The fact that something isn't guaranteed to last forever doesn't make the experience of it, or the art itself, less valuable.

So perhaps the question shouldn't simply be: “What is it made of?”

Maybe the better question is: “What did the artist create from it?”

That's what I want you to see when you look at my work.

Not just paper.

But vision.

Patience.

Skill.

Experimentation.

And hundreds of hours of turning something ordinary into something extraordinary.

The material is paper.

The medium is paper.

But the art is so much more than that.

So I'll leave you with this:

If the same artistic skill, time, creativity, and emotional impact went into a work made from paper instead of oil, bronze, or another traditionally celebrated medium, should the material really determine how we value it?

I'd love to hear what you think.

Frequently Asked Questions

A few common questions about handmade art

Is paper art considered fine art?

It can be. Fine art is defined by the artist's vision, decisions, skill, and the experience created by the work, not simply by the cost or weight of its raw material.

Is Kairee Cardoso's paper artwork archival?

Not necessarily. The papers needed for these large, intricate works are not always available in archival colors, weights, and characteristics. Care, framing, light, humidity, and handling all influence longevity.

How should paper artwork be cared for?

Keep it protected from direct light, excess humidity, and unnecessary handling. Thoughtful framing and a stable indoor environment can help preserve the work for years to come.

Continue Reading