Two of the driving forces behind every successful business are credibility and quality. The two, as with the many other factors of success, go handⁱ-in-hand though they are both equally individual. Quality—the creative, unique and professional products you produce—affects your credibility, how creative, unique and professional the services you offer are. And, to those who are painfully aware, it only takes one sub-quality product out of a million to ruin years of hard-earned credibility.

No matter how superior you believe your product quality to be, or how dependable your delivery record has been, a decorated-apparel business is only as good as its people—the good folks who interact with your clientele and give your company its reputation. One can appreciate the fact that many employers are making tough fiscal choices to deal with the economy these days but, unfortunately, some of those decisions are shaking the confidence of the very people that could buoy a business to deeper, safer waters.

A wise frog once quipped, “It’s not easy being green” and, in some ways, he is still right. Today there are greener, safer, smarter choices available, but understanding what all of them mean and knowing their hierarchy requires some research. The highest priorities are personal and consumer safety, while greener or environmentally preferable products can be conscience- or marketing-driven, or both.

Year after year, one of the most common questions I’m asked is “how long should a screen last me?” What the customer wants to hear, of course, is that the screen will last forever and need about as much attention as they’d give a doormat. In reality, a screen can last between about one minute and ten years depending on how it is used and/or abused. Anyone who presumes to put a definite timeframe on a screen’s life is either dishonest or simply naïve. In this article, we will discuss how the typical screen-printing screen is processed, and the potential pitfalls that may occur during its time in your facility—the idea being that, the better you understand the screen-making life cycle, the better it can accommodate your needs and expectations.

Tensioning

Printwear’s annual How-To issue is a great resource to keep on handⁱ year-round to refer to as you enhance your business. But it can also be a good tool to help you get back to the basics. In this spirit, I decided to tackle the simple basics that come before applying a photo stencil. Here, then, is an illustrated guide of my most favored procedures of applying the two most popular photo-reactive stencil materials: liquid emulsions and capillary films.

"This isn’t really up your alley. . . .”

Thus did my editor—knowing my penchant for the newbie, my desire for the “little guy” to get a fair shake despite being little—approach me about writing on production embroidery in the high-volume houses that boast many heads and stitch ‘round the clock.

I know some folks thrive on the idea of banks of machines, legions of employees, multiple shifts, non-stop problem-solving and work, work, work. There are also those who think the bottom line is all that matters. They might not be interested in what they do, just that they do it profitably.

The authors have found greater digital-DTG success by applying much of the methodology they’ve developed for textile screen printing over the years to artwork destined for digital-direct printing. Full-color photographic reproduction, un

In several unscientific surveys taken at the Printwear Shows this summer, the general assessment of business in the decorated-apparel industry is “not bad…could be better, but definitely not as bad as some industries.” With soaring oil prices, a struggling economy brought on by the banking/mortgage debacle, and rising unemployment, some experts still avoid using the dreaded R-word while reviewing the year 2008.

The blue screen of death

On a beautiful May morning, the “blue screen of death” appeared on my computer monitor. I had just finished deleting some programs (through add and delete programs in the control panel). The last one required a reboot—with no choice given to do it later, and no ability to uncheck the radio button. 
I had a column due Monday morning (which, ironically, morphed into this column) so when the error messages flashed on the screen, my blood ran cold. The next screen to appear (I call it the sorry screen, as it starts out by apologizing for the inconvenience . . .) gave me four choices to restart Windows, none of which worked.