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Finding a Feeling is a photography book with something to say — and it says it quietly, on uncoated paper, in black ink. The decision not to laminate the cover is a deliberate one: the raw, tactile surface of 300gsm uncoated stock gives the book an immediate physicality, a refusal of polish that suits its subject matter perfectly. Pick it up and you already know something about the kind of photographer Dan Gardner is.
Our team noted it as a genuinely great book. The photography sections are separated by Dan's own handwritten essays — thinking-out-loud reflections on why we make photographs, what we're trying to capture, and what the whole process actually feels like. That combination of images and personal writing gives Finding a Feeling a warmth and intimacy that photobooks printed to a standard template rarely achieve. And one thing nobody saw coming: the inside pages are silk, not uncoated — which makes the contrast between cover and interior more interesting than it might first appear.
If you're planning your own photography book or photobook, this project is a compelling case study in how material and conceptual choices can reinforce one another.
Finding a Feeling is Dan Gardner's self-published exploration of photography as a way of experiencing life. Dan is a working photographer and writer — @bydangardner — and this book grew out of years of scribbling notes about what photography means to him: how he sees, how he feels, and why the act of making a photograph matters.
The book is structured in two registers: photographic sequences and personal written essays. The photographs range from intimate portraits to city architecture, street scenes and atmospheric landscapes — all rendered in black and white. The essays, written in Dan's own handwriting and printed as-is, function as a "thinking-out-loud philosophy" on photography: honest, personal and unpolished in the best possible sense.
It sits comfortably somewhere between a photography monograph, a zine and a personal manifesto. The audience is other photographers, creative practitioners and anyone who thinks seriously about the relationship between image-making and how we experience the world.
Dan came to this project having already printed three previous books with us. He knew what he wanted — and was precise and considered in every spec decision.
The spec here took over two years to arrive at, which tells you something about how seriously Dan approached it. He'd originally explored A6, then 180×120mm, then landed on 200×145mm — a compact format with just enough room for photographs to sit with genuine presence, and narrow enough to feel intimate in the hand rather than authoritative on a shelf.
The decision to print in black and white throughout was always firm. What evolved was the paper. Dan upgraded both the cover weight (from 200gsm to 300gsm) and the inside pages (from 120gsm to 170gsm) during the quoting process, and the difference in the finished book is palpable. The 300gsm cover feels solid and considered. The 170gsm interior pages have real substance — they don't flutter when you turn them.
No lamination on the cover was a bold call. The heavy ink coverage of the black background has a granular, atmospheric quality on uncoated stock that matt lamination would soften and distance. Dan wanted the rawness, and that choice defines the book's feel from the moment you hold it. It is worth noting that this decision does make the cover more susceptible to scuffing in transit — something we flagged and addressed through our reprint process.
One genuine surprise for our team: despite the uncoated cover, the inside pages are silk. The contrast between the two surfaces is subtle but real — the cover is soft and matte, the pages slightly brighter and smoother. It's an interesting production choice that works.
The cover is confident and editorial. A black-bordered photographic portrait — a woman looking upward in a dark, wooded setting — sits centred on an almost entirely black background. The title finding a feeling and author name Dan Gardner appear in a handsome, slightly decorative serif face at the lower right. The type is white and unhurried. Nothing competes.
Inside, the part opener pages are a design highlight. Why We Make Photographs — the title of Part 1 — fills its page entirely in a bold, interlocking serif display, reversed white out of solid black. It's a deliberate gear-change from the measured photography pages and it has genuine typographic character.
The photograph sequencing is thoughtful. Single images per page are given generous white margins — the photographs don't crowd the space but inhabit it. The black and white edit is varied: a chaotic park scene full of pigeons and movement sits opposite a geometric beach huts image of total stillness. Silhouetted figures against museum vitrines face a skyward city tower. The pairings feel considered rather than accidental.
The collage spread is the wildcard. A full double-page of overlapping, layered street photographs — dozens of images jostling for space — serves as an energetic interlude between the quieter single-image sequences. It arrives at the right moment and gives the book a different visual pulse without feeling like a stylistic departure.
The handwritten essays are the book's most distinctive feature. Printed directly from Dan's own handwriting, they read as genuine documents of a working photographer's interior life. On silk pages, the ink sits crisply. The informality of the handwriting against the considered design of the photographic sections creates an endearing tension — polished and personal at once.
Dan first got in touch in August 2023, exploring specs for two different projects — a small poetry book and a premium cloth-bound hardback. The hardback never arrived at print stage, but the smaller book evolved over two and a half years into Finding a Feeling.
The spec conversation was careful and iterative. Dan compared formats, queried page counts, questioned the pricing logic when something didn't add up, and ultimately upgraded the paper weights significantly from his initial enquiry. When an early quote contained an error, we corrected it immediately and transparently. That kind of back-and-forth suited a project built on precision.
When the first files arrived in December 2025, our team flagged two issues before going to press: the artwork was supplied in full colour rather than converted greyscale, and the pages lacked 3mm bleed. We shared our black-and-white printing video and bleed guide, and Dan worked with his designer Will to convert and resubmit. The corrected files arrived in January and the books were in production.
On delivery, 15 copies showed scuffing on the uncoated cover — a known risk with heavy ink coverage on unlaminated stock. We reprinted them without quibble, though we did strongly recommend adding matt lamination to the reprint covers. Dan accepted the recommendation. The replacement copies were dispatched within days.
This was a relationship built over years and multiple projects. Dan trusted us with a book that clearly mattered to him, and we responded with the kind of support that goes beyond just getting a file to press: patient quoting across a long spec evolution, proactive artwork flags, transparent pricing corrections, and a genuine reprint when the delivery fell short.
Our photography book printing service and perfect binding set-up guide are designed exactly for projects like this — where a photographer has a clear creative vision and needs a production partner who can match it without friction.
Uncoated covers are powerful — but plan for protection. A heavy black coverage on unlaminated 300gsm stock creates a genuinely atmospheric, tactile surface. It will also scuff in transit without care in packing. If you want the raw look but need resilience for retail or postal distribution, matt lamination preserves most of the feel while eliminating the risk.
Convert to true greyscale before you send your files. Black-and-white images supplied as RGB or CMYK colour files will often print muddy or inconsistent on a digital press. Converting properly in Photoshop — with adjusted levels and contrast to compensate for the flatness that greyscale conversion can introduce — makes a visible difference to the final result. It's a step worth doing before anything else.
Heavier paper transforms a compact format. At 200×145mm, a 170gsm inside page feels entirely different from 120gsm. The book sits more confidently in your hand, pages turn with authority rather than flutter, and the whole object feels intentional. The additional cost over the lighter stock is modest against the improvement in perceived quality.
Handwriting, collage and structural interruptions add texture to a photobook. Finding a Feeling uses three visual registers — photographs, typed essays and Dan's own handwriting — and the variation between them keeps the reading experience alive. If your photography book has something to say beyond the images, find a visual form for that content that feels as considered as the photography itself.
Let your design breathe. Single images per page with generous white margins communicate confidence in the work. The photographs in Finding a Feeling don't need to fill the page to command it.
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