It usually starts with a painting,or a drawing.

Not one I created—let’s make that clear. I’m not the guy behind the brush. But I know the feeling when I see a piece and think, That belongs on a card. Something about it just clicks.

Maybe it’s the grit in an InvaderGirl painting, or the solemn pride echoing in one of Jaime Munts’ flag sketches… or maybe it’s the surging emotion you feel from a Lani Hankins watercolor. Sometimes it’s the silence in a flag hanging still. But it says something—and I know someone out there needs to see and feel it.

So I negotiate a deal with the artist to get it.

And that’s when the fun begins.

“Just Take a Picture,” They Said...

Once the artwork is in hand, you’d think the next step would be simple. Snap a photo, upload it, send it to print. But no. That’s how you end up with a card that looks like it was printed on a potato.

I clear off a space in my studio, set the artwork on a stand, and pull out the camera. I’ve learned a few things the hard way—like how overhead lights give you glare spots the size of dinner plates, or how direct sunlight can make everything look like it’s been bleached for television.

So now it’s a dance—natural light, maybe a soft lamp, angle the painting just right. I’ve crawled around on the floor, propped things up with soup cans, and shouted at reflections like they owed me money. At one point, I held a white sheet up with a broom handle to diffuse the light, and that actually worked.
(Don’t ask me to recreate it. I couldn’t.)

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For the pieces of digital sketch art, I get to skip photographing them because many times the artwork is print ready!

Getting the Shot: The Holy Grail

Eventually—after enough minor acrobatics to qualify for a circus act—I get it. The shot. Straight, clean, colors true to the original. High-res, sharp, no weird shadows, no dog hair, no thumb in the frame.

Victory.

I treat that image like gold, because what comes next is where the magic—and the mistakes—really happen.

Photoshop: Where Good Paintings Go to Look Even Better

I pull the image into Photoshop and start tweaking. This is less about filters and more about respecting the art.

A little curve adjustment to make the blacks pop. Maybe pull back the reds if they’re screaming too loud. Clean up anything distracting—a smudge on the original canvas, a speck of dust I missed during shooting, the tiny signature that ends up way too close to the trim line.

Then I drop it into our greeting card layout. That’s when I ask the big questions:

• Does this image fit the shape of the card?
• Will someone know what it’s about at a glance?
• Can I imagine someone opening this card and feeling something—respect, pride, maybe even a laugh if we lean into that classic Overwatch dry humor?

If the answer’s yes, we’re in business.

From Art to Artifact

Before anything gets printed, we test it. Always. The image might look perfect on screen, but print has a way of humbling even the best digital files.

Converting an RGB image into CMYK for print is a trick in and of itself. I make small adjustments—contrast, saturation, sometimes even the positioning. I tweak until the card feels like it belongs—like it was always meant to be held in two hands, not just hung on a wall.

And that’s when I know I’ve nailed it.

Why It Matters

A good greeting card is more than a folded piece of paper. It’s a message in your handwriting. It’s art anyone can hold. It’s connection.

And when that card started its life as a painting or sketch, created by someone who saw the world through a powerful lens, it carries a little more weight.

I do this to help people communicate by translating real, human art into something you can send, display, and keep.

Thank you for taking time to read my first blog! Remember to #SendIt

~Lloyd

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