How to press flowers with a traditional flower press

You’re building a lasagna.

That’s what it looks like when you load a traditional flower press. Layers of cardboard, layers of paper, flowers nestled in the middle, more paper on top, more cardboard. Repeat until you run out of flowers or bolt space. Tighten everything down and walk away.

I’ve pressed tens of thousands of flowers, preserved over 350 wedding bouquets, and made every mistake you can make along the way. Some of those mistakes ruined beautiful flowers from my own garden, which stung more than I’d like to admit.

This post is everything I know about using a traditional press. It’s not complicated, but there are details that make the difference between a gorgeous pressed flower and a brown, moldy disappointment. And most of the advice I see online either skips those details or gets them wrong.

A few things before we start. This is one of four posts about pressing equipment. I’m also covering the microwave press, the dehydrator foam press, and the natural fiber method. Each method produces different results, and I combine them in my professional work, so none of them exists in isolation. This post focuses on the traditional press itself: how to choose one, how to load it, how to manage the drying process, and how to troubleshoot when something goes sideways.

I’m keeping the focus on technique here. I’ll cover pressing individual flowers in a series of posts coming later. For now, let’s talk equipment!

Don’t worry about brand names! I’ve bought seven presses off Amazon and had the rest custom-built. The brand on the box made zero difference to my results. What mattered was size and material.

Here’s my rule of thumb: buy a press that fits a standard sheet of copy paper. That’s 8.5 x 11 inches (letter size) or A4 if you’re in Europe. It will save you time, and you won’t need to cut paper to size.

If you want to go bigger (and eventually you might), look for a press that fits two sheets of standard paper side by side. That’s roughly 18 x 12 inches. My large presses are about that size, with enough room for an entire wedding bouquet. For a hobbyist, though, a press that fits one sheet of paper is a great starting point.

Those little mini presses you see everywhere? They’re cute. They look great on a shelf. And they are genuinely not practical for actual pressing. The pressing surface is too small to fit more than a couple of flowers, and you’ll outgrow it almost immediately if you enjoy this at all.

Solid hardwood. A single piece of wood for the top and bottom panels, not multiple pieces glued together. I learned this the hard way when one of my presses cracked right along the glue seam. You’re applying serious pressure to this thing (I literally stand on mine to tighten the wing nuts), and composite materials can’t take it.

Specifically, avoid:

Bottom line: You want something dense and rigid. Most of the hardwood presses on Amazon don’t specify the exact wood species, and that’s fine. If it feels heavy and solid and it’s made from a single plank, you’re probably in good shape. The thickness matters too. Thin boards flex, thick boards don’t. You want boards that stay perfectly flat when you crank down those wing nuts.

Bolts and wing nuts are the way to go. They apply even pressure across the entire surface, they let you control exactly how tight the press is, and you can swap them out for longer bolts as your needs grow.

My presses originally came with short bolts, maybe three or four inches. I went to the hardware store and replaced them with six-inch bolts, which gives me enough length to accommodate many layers of paper and flowers with room to spare. When you go to the hardware store, bring one of the original wing nuts with you to match the thread size. Bolts and wing nuts come in different sizes, and you need them to match.

What about straps? I don’t recommend them. Two straps positioned at the edges of the press almost never apply equal tension, and you end up with lopsided pressure. One side presses harder than the other, and the flowers on the slack side don’t dry properly. Getting straps truly tight is also more work than it should be, and they loosen over time.

Clamps work fine mechanically. They’re just bulky and a little cumbersome compared to wing nuts. If that’s what you have, use them. If you’re buying fresh, go with bolts.

My husband built a couple of presses for me. It wasn’t easy, even though he’s comfortable with power tools. You need an electric saw, a drill, the right hardware, and wood that’s thick enough and flat enough to work. If you’re buying lumber, it comes in predetermined sizes that may not be what you need, and a single plank of hardwood isn’t cheap.

Honestly? Unless you already have the tools and enjoy this kind of project (or have a handy partner or teenager who does), just buy a press. A ready-made press that fits a single sheet of paper runs about $30 to $40. That’s less than you’d spend on materials in most cases, and you skip all the guesswork.

Corrugated cardboard is fine, but only if the corrugation is light and shallow. Run your finger across the surface. If you can barely feel the ridges, you’re good. If the channels are tall and defined (like the heavy cardboard used in shipping boxes), those ridges will imprint directly onto your petals when you tighten the press. I’ve ruined beautiful garden flowers this way. You cannot fix corrugation marks once they’re there.

A couple of alternatives:

Most presses you buy online come with a few pieces of cardboard included. Examine those to get a sense of the right corrugation depth, and then source more from packaging you already have around the house.

I’ve tried a lot of paper types over the years. Here’s what I landed on:

Copy paper is the everyday workhorse. Regular printer paper, letter size, even if it’s already been printed on. (Just avoid pages with water-soluble marker or highlighter, which can transfer onto petals.) Use 10 to 12 sheets per side of each flower layer.

Blotting paper is the upgrade. It’s thicker, it’s designed to absorb water quickly, and it lets you cut the number of sheets roughly in half (5 to 6 per side instead of 10 to 12). The trade-off is cost. About $15 for 50 sheets, and you’ll need a lot of them. I have at least a thousand sheets at this point. I started with copy paper and switched to blotting paper once I knew I was serious about this. You can reuse blotting paper many times as long as you dry it thoroughly between pressings. I have sheets that are three years old and still doing fine.

My recommendation: start with copy paper. If you stick with pressing and want better efficiency, upgrade to blotting paper later.

What I don’t recommend using

I also tried bamboo felt paper towels (the reusable kind that feel almost like fabric). They’re very absorbent, and they worked fine. They’re also expensive, they need to be cut to fit, and they didn’t outperform blotting paper. When you’re pressing professionally, anything that adds an extra step to your workflow has to earn its place. These didn’t.

Here’s my exact setup, from bottom to top:

Cardboard (or paper bag layers) on the bottom >Then 10 to 12 sheets of copy paper (or 5 to 6 sheets of blotting paper if you’ve upgraded) > Then your flowers, arranged face down > Then another 10 to 12 sheets of copy paper (or 5 to 6 sheets of blotting paper). Then cardboard again.

That’s one layer. Repeat as many times as your bolt length allows, and you’ve got your lasagna.

The cardboard between each flower layer acts as a moisture barrier. Without it, water from one layer of flowers seeps through the paper into the next layer, and you end up with mold. The paper absorbs moisture from the flowers it’s touching; the cardboard keeps each layer’s moisture contained so the paper can do its job.

If you’re using six-inch bolts, you have a generous amount of space. But there’s a tipping point. Too many layers means too much collective moisture in the press, especially during that first round when the flowers are fresh and wet.

My rule: after tightening the wing nuts, you should still see at least one inch of exposed bolt above the nut. If you’re cranked all the way down with barely enough thread to catch, you’ve overloaded it. Either split the batch across two presses or accept that you’ll need to change your paper the very next day instead of waiting the usual 48 hours.

Absolutely reuse both. Just make sure they’re fully dry before they go back into a press. Damp paper defeats the entire purpose.

My method: I spread a large stack of used paper on a sheet pan and stick it in the oven at 190°F for about an hour and a half. Set a timer so you don’t forget about it. If you don’t have that much paper to dry, you can spread it on the floor near an air vent and let it dry naturally, though that takes longer and works best in dry climates.

This sounds contradictory, but it’s the whole game. You want flowers that are dry on the surface (no water droplets hiding between petals) and hydrated on the inside (not wilted or crispy). Hydrated petals hold their color and shape during pressing. Surface moisture causes browning and mold.

If you’re cutting from your garden, the timing of your harvest matters. Don’t cut right after rain or after watering. I pick in the late afternoon, around five or six o’clock, when any morning dew is long gone and the flowers are still well-hydrated. If you prefer a morning cut, that’s fine, but put the flowers in a vase for a few hours first and let any trapped moisture evaporate before pressing.

Can you press the whole flower or do you need to deconstruct? It depends. The thicker the flower, the more likely you’ll need to take it apart. The whole point of pressing is extracting moisture from organic material as fast as possible. Thick layers of overlapping petals trap moisture right where you don’t want it.

Single-row flowers like hellebores or cosmos? Press them whole. They flatten beautifully with no fuss.

Multi-petaled flowers like dahlias, peonies, or full garden roses? Deconstruct petal by petal, press them flat, and reassemble later in your artwork. This is exactly why so many people end up with brown roses in their press. They put the whole flower in, and even with perfect paper changes, the moisture trapped between 40 overlapping petals decays the flower faster than the press can draw it out.

Small bush roses with just two rows of petals can often go in whole. Use your judgment based on how thick the flower feels in your hand.

For stems: thick, moisture-filled stems (like hellebores or tulips) can be sliced in half lengthwise with a box cutter. Press the two halves separately. Hollow stems are usually fine as-is.

Roses have that rounded bump at the base of the flower head (the hip, where seeds eventually form). Cut as close to the flower head as possible to eliminate that bulk, but carefully. Cut too close and the whole thing falls apart.

Orchids have thick, almost succulent inner structures that won’t press well and will just add moisture. I remove those and press the petals separately.

Some flowers, especially store-bought roses, are so fresh and tight that the petals crack when you try to flatten them. If you run into this, take the flowers out of water and leave them on the counter for several hours or even a full day. Once the petals soften a bit, they’ll cooperate with the press instead of fighting it. I do this regularly in my professional work.

Face down, almost always. It gives you more control over how the petals lay. Petals tend to curl inward, and when the flower is face down, you can gently hold the petals open with your fingers, give them a little nudge flat, and then carefully set the paper and cardboard on top. I rarely press face up. It just feels less intuitive, and the results are consistently better face down.

Group flowers by type on each layer. Don’t mix a thick, moisture-heavy rose with a paper-thin cosmos on the same sheet, because the moisture from the rose will affect everything around it.

For whole flowers on a standard sheet of paper: three medium roses (staggered in a triangle) or two large roses is about right.

For individual petals: fill the entire sheet. Place them as close together as possible without overlapping. Maximize your space.

I literally stand on the press when I tighten the wing nuts. That’s the level of pressure you’re going for. Maximum. The whole point is to force moisture out of the flowers and into the paper as fast as possible.

Then, and this is important, retighten after 24 hours. During that first day, the paper absorbs a lot of moisture and the flowers flatten, which creates a little slack in the press. If you don’t retighten, you lose pressure right when you need it most.

After that single retightening, you generally don’t need to adjust again.

For most flowers, I change paper twice:

After that second change, I leave the press completely alone for at least seven more days. Total time in the press for most flowers: about 12 to 14 days.

For high-moisture flowers like orchids, gerbera daisies, or chrysanthemums, I change paper three or more times and leave them in the press for up to three weeks. Chrysanthemums are especially tricky. They actually work best with a two-step process: an initial round in a microwave press to pull out that first wave of moisture, followed by finishing in a traditional press for the final flatten and dry. I’ll cover that technique in detail in the microwave press post.

I see this advice all the time, and I disagree with it. Changing paper too frequently means you’re handling flowers that aren’t set yet. They’re sticky, they’re fragile, and they’ll tear or bruise if you move them around too much. The 48-hour minimum gives the flowers time to start drying and firming up before you disturb them.

Very thin petals (sweet peas and ranunculus are the worst offenders) will stick to the paper during that first change. Don’t try to peel them off. Instead, leave the flowers on their original top and bottom sheets. Just swap out the paper layers above and below that sandwich. Refresh everything around the flowers without actually moving the flowers themselves. They’ll release on their own once they’re drier.

Two tests, and both become second nature with practice.

This second test is something you develop a feel for over time. I use it almost exclusively now, but it took a lot of flowers before I could trust it.

The press needs air circulation on all sides, so avoid placing it in a closet, on a shelf or in a corner. Moisture is evaporating out of the press through the wood and cardboard, and it needs somewhere to go.

If you have floor vents, placing the press near one is ideal. The gentle airflow helps the drying process along naturally. No vents? A small fan pointed in the general direction works too.

I press in Chicago, where summers can be humid. I change paper a little more frequently (every two days for the first couple of weeks) and run a dehumidifier in my studio. If you don’t have a dehumidifier or air conditioning, a fan to keep air moving will help, and you’ll just need to be more disciplined about paper changes.

One critical point: make sure the paper you’re putting back into the press is actually dry. In humid conditions, even paper that’s been sitting out can absorb moisture from the air. If I have any doubt, I put the paper in the oven for 10 to 15 minutes at the lowest setting to drive off ambient humidity.

Winter is easier: the air is drier, and the press does its job with less babysitting.

This is my go-to rescue method for flowers that have reabsorbed moisture, which happens in humid summers. Layer the flowers between generous stacks of dry paper, preheat the oven to 120 to 150°F (about 50 to 65°C), and put them in for 15 minutes. Always preheat first and use the lowest setting your oven offers.

In the dead of summer, I actually do this with my framing mats before I assemble client pieces. I put the mat in the oven for 15 minutes at the lowest setting to drive off any ambient moisture, so it doesn’t introduce humidity back into flowers I’ve spent two weeks drying.

Flowers are organic material. You’re working with something that is, by nature, variable and imperfect. You can’t control every molecule of moisture in your environment, and you don’t need to. The goal is reasonably dry flowers in a reasonably dry press in a reasonably ventilated space. Don’t let the pursuit of laboratory-perfect conditions stop you from pressing!

Once flowers are out of the press, they need three things: darkness, dryness, and coolness. Light fades colors. Humidity invites mold. Heat accelerates both.

A drawer is perfect. A cabinet works. Even a cardboard box in a closet will do, as long as the closet isn’t in a damp basement.

When I remove flowers from a press for client work, I transfer them to fresh, dry paper. I layer them by type (so I’m not hunting through a mixed pile later), create a paper sandwich, and tape the edges closed. On top, I stick a label with the client’s name, the date, and when pressing started.

These labeled sandwiches go into a blueprint file cabinet. It’s one of those wide, flat, shallow-drawer cabinets that architects use for storing large prints. I found mine on Facebook Marketplace. The drawers are perfect: big enough for large flower layouts, flat enough to keep everything pressed, and deep enough for multiple sandwiches per drawer without stacking too high.

Clear plastic storage boxes work well. I have flowers that have been sitting in these boxes for almost five years with no mold or degradation. The boxes aren’t hermetically sealed (some air circulation is fine and actually preferable), and the flowers have held up beautifully.

If you notice flowers feel slightly soft or silky after storage, especially after a humid stretch, you can always run them through the oven trick again.

This is the most common issue, and it’s important to understand what’s actually happening. Browning is oxidation. Enzymes in the flower’s cells react with oxygen in the presence of moisture, and the pigments break down. It’s a chemical reaction.

The most common causes: too many layers of petals (the moisture trapped between them decays the flower faster than the paper can absorb it), hidden water on petals from morning dew or rain, not enough paper in the press, and not changing paper on schedule.

Prevention comes down to one thing: control moisture. Deconstruct thick flowers petal by petal. Harvest in late afternoon when petals are dry. Use enough paper. Follow the change schedule.

Once browning happens, it’s permanent, unfortunately.

Mold is different from browning. While browning is a chemical reaction, mold is a living organism. It’s a fungus that colonizes organic material in wet, dark conditions. In a flower press, it starts when a flower is so wet and the moisture has nowhere to go that the organic material begins to decay, and then mold spores (which are everywhere in the air) find a hospitable home and take root.

The prevention is the same as for browning: manage moisture. Change your paper, don’t overstuff the press, and keep airflow going.

Can you save a moldy flower? No. Mold is alive and spreads. You can’t disinfect a flower without destroying it. If you open your press and find mold on one flower, remove it immediately so it doesn’t spread to the others. Also throw away the paper. Take it as a lesson not a failure!

These come from using the wrong cardboard (heavy corrugation) or placing paper towels directly against flower petals. The pattern presses right into the delicate surface, and there’s no undoing it.

I’ve seen advice online suggesting that you can use corrugated cardboard if you just don’t tighten the press as much. I disagree with this strongly. Reduced pressure means slower moisture extraction, which means more browning. You’re trading one problem for another, and browning is worse. Use smooth cardboard, chipboard, or paper bag layers, and tighten the press as much as possible.

If petal edges dry faster than the centers and get a little rough or crispy, it’s usually because the center is thicker and the pressure didn’t apply evenly to the petals. The fix is tighter pressure and more time in the press. There are notable exceptions, like sunflowers. They require a very different technique which I’ll cover in a different post.

If you still see rough edges when the flower is fully done, trim them carefully with small scissors.

Make sure the paper you’re using during changes is truly dry. Damp replacement paper can cause uneven drying, because the paper closest to the petal edges is wet while the flower centers are still working through their own moisture.

Every single press gets a sticky note or strip of paper tape on top with the client name, the date, and the next paper-change date. When the flowers come out of the press and go into storage, the sticky note comes with them. It gets taped right onto the paper sandwich.

This system took me a while to develop, and I cannot overstate how much it matters once you have more than one or two presses going at a time. Without labels, you will forget what’s inside which press and when it needs attention.

One press is enough to find out if you enjoy this. If you do, and you start making art for friends and family, you’ll feel the limitation pretty quickly. You want to press more varieties, but your one press is occupied for two weeks at a time. That’s when a second press makes sense.

Beyond that, the progression tends to follow your ambition. When I started selling my pressed-flower jewelry and artwork, I added a third and a fourth press. When I began taking wedding commissions, I kept adding until I hit 12.

At the peak of my practice, every single press was full. There was one June when I received seven wedding bouquets in a single weekend. It took me three days to press everything, and it was a logistical nightmare. That experience taught me my limit: three bouquets per weekend, maximum. In professional work, you need systems, you need labeling, and you need to know your ceiling before you crash into it.

You can get started for under $100, easily. The traditional press gives you the best quality-to-cost ratio of any pressing method I’ve used.

I can tell immediately when someone has used a traditional press versus a microwave press. The results are visually different. The traditional press produces that beautiful, delicate, watercolor quality. The petals are perfectly flat, smooth, almost translucent. There’s a refinement to it.

Microwave-pressed flowers can look a little crinkly by comparison. That’s not to say the microwave method is worse. It’s faster, and there are flowers that do better with heat-assisted drying. That’s why I combine methods in my professional work, choosing the best technique for each flower type to get the best possible result.

I’ll get into when and why to use each method in the other equipment posts: microwave press, foam dehydrator press, and natural fiber press.

There isn’t one! There’s no magic paper, no perfect press, no hidden technique that separates the professionals from the beginners. The difference is repetition and curiosity.

When I picked up this hobby, I started pressing obsessively. I went from zero to pressing every single thing I liked within a matter of weeks, and I didn’t stop for months. I made every mistake in this article, plus some I’ve probably forgotten. But each mistake taught me something, and the learning happened fast because I was pressing constantly.

If you’re nervous about wasting flowers you care about, start with leaves. Start with weeds. Start with a $5 grocery store bouquet. Experiment with different papers, different pressures, different timing. Pay attention to what works and what doesn’t, and trust what you’re learning.

That’s how I went from a microwave press in my kitchen to 12 traditional presses and a business I built from scratch. Not by following someone else’s instructions perfectly, but by pressing flower after flower and letting curiosity lead.

But enough about me! What’s the first flower you want to try pressing? If you’ve already started, what surprised you about the process? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.