The Fine Art of the Photobook

There’s an art to taking a photobook from concept to print. In this Q&A, writer and editor Miranda Gavin talks to VIKA Books founder Victoria Forrest about technological developments in the rapidly evolving world of fine art publishing and how to achieve the best results when creating a photobook. Victoria is also an RPS trustee and RPS Women in Photography group member.

MG: Miranda Gavin
VF: Victoria Forrest

MG: In the initial stages of consultation with a photographer, what is the first thing you do? 

VF: I try to understand the project and what is happening in the photographer’s mind. I listen carefully to what the photographer wants. Initially, I gather images, texts, audio files, reference links, past publications, short films or voice notes. 

I read any supplied texts or articles and review an initial edit — usually a relatively tight selection, often around 10 to 20 key images that they feel represent the work. I attempt to position the book in context — not just as a standalone object, but within the wider arc of the photographer’s practice and ambitions — and determine its most authentic voice.


MG: How do you collaborate with a photographer to select, edit and sequence photographs for a book to shape the visual story, particularly if the photographer is attached to some of the photographs?

VF: After the initial stage, I usually have a brief check-in conversation with the photographer and often suggest looking at a wider archive which can vary hugely. I’ve been sent archives of thousands of images. Ideally, I like to see several layers: a tight edit, a wider working edit, and then the broader archive. A great deal of this process is about trust-building.

Once I have the wider archive, I review it independently. I need to look with fresh eyes, without being led. Attachment is a profound part of photography — an image may carry immense personal meaning because of what happened just before or just outside the frame. That meaning is valid, but I must also assess the image objectively. By working independently first, I can identify images with formal and narrative strength on their own terms and sometimes introduce images that the photographer may have overlooked. Once I have looked independently, I go through the images with the photographer to hear their voice. I’d miss the soul of the work if I didn’t do this. 

Then, I print the images. Sequencing begins physically. I work with the prints, sorting, stacking, and grouping — sometimes by format, sometimes by tonal relationships, sometimes by theme or emotional register. Sequencing is a slow process. It can take days or weeks. It is less about chronology and more about rhythm, tension, release, and narrative arc.

Editing and sequencing are distinct stages. Editing determines what belongs. Sequencing determines how that tells the story. As I move the prints around, patterns begin to emerge. Sometimes stronger images shift the narrative direction. An edit for press or portfolio review is different from an edit for a book. A book allows space — for pacing, silence, and emotional development. Images are not isolated; they speak to each other.

MG: How do you integrate diverse material — the photographer’s images, archival images, poems, prose — so the photobook is still coherent?

VF: Increasingly, photographers are working across multiple forms of media. Within what might still be called a traditional photobook, there may be essays, captions, transcripts of conversations, diary entries, poems, archival documents, manuals, instructions, background research, and sometimes audio files. All this material must be considered carefully.

With Ania Ready’s book, I Also Fight Windmills, the archive texts were integral. I typeset them inspired by the visual language of the archives themselves. Typography became a way of honouring the source. The names, fragments, and historical references were interspersed carefully, creating rhythm without overwhelming the photographs.

The key to integrating diverse material is hierarchy. Every element must know its place. A large photographic plate carries the highest authority. Supporting materials — text, transcripts, archival fragments — either contextualise or amplify that authority. They should not compete with plates unless that tension is intended.

Coherence comes from the underlying grid — the structural framework governing typography, margins, placement, and rhythm. The grid is rarely visible, but it holds everything together. It allows contrast while maintaining unity. It ensures that when different voices enter the book, they feel intentional rather than chaotic.

Each book has its own architecture. The photographs form the foundation. Everything else is scaffolding — supporting, clarifying, and expanding what the images already carry.

MG: How do you decide on the key design elements — format, typography, page layout — when creating a photobook?

VF: The first major decision is format. Format is not arbitrary — it is practical, financial, and strategic. Format must be locked early. Changing it midway can be disruptive. Is this a dummy edition produced in small quantities? If so, it needs to suit standard print machines. Is it going straight to press? Which press? Where is it being printed? What are the sheet sizes?

Scale has implications. Larger books allow images to breathe at size, but they increase print costs significantly. Smaller books can allow more pages for the same budget and often result in a stronger spine presence on a shelf. The spine is critical — a book lives spine-out for most of its life. A thoughtful balance between scale, thickness, and presence is important

Typography is drawn from the work. Everything is bespoke. The typeface should either harmonise with or intelligently contrast the photography. It should also function impeccably — correct size, line length, character count, and spacing for legibility. I am very particular about typographic clarity. The design should feel effortless, but that effortlessness is constructed.

Page layout is about pacing. Some images function as pivot points — they need scale and space. Others bridge or provide tonal transition. Some sequences demand uninterrupted flow; others benefit from pause. White space is important. It allows the reader to process and reflect. There is a push-pull dynamic throughout a book — density followed by stillness, intensity followed by breath.

Titles sometimes emerge during design. For Kirsty McKay’s photobook My Favourite Colour Was Yellow, the phrase came from a transcript, and the design was intentionally simple, allowing the concept and sequencing to carry the weight. Similarly, Ania Ready’s I Also Fight Windmills came from a line spoken by the book’s subject, Sophie Gaudier-Brzeska. For Léonie Hampton’s book, the cover design referenced a tablecloth pattern present within the archive photographs.

I tend to keep graphic intervention restrained unless the imagery demands otherwise. The photography should speak clearly. Not every page needs to work hard. The design builds gradually: early drafts are expansive, later stages reductive. The process is one of distillation.

MG: You use immersive technologies, such as augmented reality. How do you use these platforms and what does this mean for photo-oriented works? Does it create a new or expanded art form?

VF: The role of immersive and creative technologies in photography is constantly evolving. What interests me is not simply what is technologically possible, but how that potential relates to the artist’s intention and to the reality of how people experience images. 

The aim with immersive technologies is not spectacle; it is enhancement. A photobook is already an immersive object. It allows nonlinear reading, invites physical interaction and creates intimacy. Digital layers can expand that experience by adding voice, sound, motion, or extended archival material that would not comfortably sit within the printed form. 

With Léonie Hampton’s In the Shadow of Things, we developed the In the Shadow app through a research grant with the University of Bristol, working alongside academics. The core question was whether the intimacy of a photobook — that close, private encounter with images — could be translated to a screen without losing its emotional depth. The project has stood the test of time, and the design principles developed there are now informing new projects, including Marc Wilson’s A Wounded Landscape, which integrates photography, moving image, Super 8 footage, illustration, archive material, and sound within a unified digital structure alongside the book.

The concept I have been developing through Innovate UK and related research explores what I call “Connected Books” — printed works surrounded by a carefully structured digital ecosystem. That ecosystem might include audio, video, interviews, podcasts, or an evolving website. The book becomes the enduring physical archive; the digital layer allows expansion, context, and continued dialogue.

I do not see these technologies as replacing the photobook, or as creating an entirely new art form. Rather, they expand the reading experience. The printed book remains the primary object — the thing that endures. Digital layers allow additional voices, processes, and temporal elements to sit around it, enriching the encounter without overwhelming it.

Words by Miranda Gavin. Read the original article here,

About Miranda Gavin
Miranda is a writer, editor, photographer and educator with decades of experience in photography publishing in the UK and internationally. She was Deputy Editor of Hotshoe International for six years and has written for publications including the British Journal of Photography and F2. She has also worked as a portfolio reviewer, competition judge and mentor to photographers developing personal projects. Miranda is currently a Copy Editor for WE ARE, the magazine of the RPS Women in Photography Group, working directly with contributors to shape their stories and present their work.

About WE ARE
‘We Are’ is the magazine of the RPS Women in Photography Group, established in 2021 to showcase the photography, projects, experiences and voices of women photographers. Bringing together emerging, established and professional practitioners working across fine art, documentary, portraiture and other forms of photography, the magazine combines substantial photographic features with interviews, personal writing and contributions from its members. In August 2026, the 248-page April 2026 issue received an Honourable Mention in the 2026 International Photography Awards (IPA), in the Professional, Book – Self-Published category.

About Victoria Forrest
Victoria Forrest is an award-winning graphic designer, founder of VIKA Books and a trustee of the Royal Photographic Society. With a first-class BA from the University of the Arts and an MA from the Royal College of Art, she has spent over 15 years shaping contemporary photobook practice through a distinctive, understated design language and rigorous approach to production. Her work combines the conceptual depth of book arts with high production values and creative technologies, crafting photobooks and connected publications that balance narrative clarity with tactile presence. VIKA’s projects have been featured by the BBC, The Bookseller and the British Journal of Photography, and recognised through awards including Innovate UK’s Women in Innovation and D&AD Future Impact. As a designer and creative technologist, she advocates for collaborative, thoughtful approaches to authorship and legacy.