Introduction: A Newfoundland Legend Revisited
Images of the deep lie at the heart of David Blackwood’s enduring legacy, now celebrated in a major retrospective at the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO). The exhibition revisits the printmaker’s intricate copperplate etchings, aquatints, and the stories of shipwrecks, seafarers, and whales that defined his career. Central to the show is the reminder that Blackwood’s images were never mere reproductions; they were original works created through a painstaking, hands-on process that he controlled from start to finish.
From Studio Assistant to Archive Keeper
In Port Hope, Ontario, Janita Wiersma offers a rare glimpse into the studio practice that sustained Blackwood’s art for decades. As his longtime assistant and now steward of his archive, she demonstrates the careful, multistep method behind each print. “The idea of the original print is that the artist’s hand is in every step,” she explains, noting that Blackwood insisted on pulling his own prints and never delegated the key tasks to others. This insistence on direct involvement helps clarify why Blackwood’s copperplates are valued as originals rather than mere reproductions.
The Process: Copperplate Etching to Aquatint
Blackwood’s technique begins with a drawn image copied onto tracing paper, reversed for transfer onto a copper plate coated with a resist wax. The lines are incised with a needle, and the plate is etched in an acid bath to deepen the lines. Ink is applied to the plate and then wiped away, leaving ink only in the etched recesses. A first proof is pulled on the press to reveal the linework’s mood and flow. If the artist pursues more depth, aquatint is added, scattering powdered rosin over the plate to create tonal shading. The plate is re-etched, inked, and printed again—the process yielding the soft, moody textures characteristic of Blackwood’s maritime narratives.
Why Blackwood Stands Apart
The AGO curator Alexa Greist emphasizes that Blackwood embraced narrative painting through a medium that allowed him to exploit meaning in line and tone. While many contemporaries moved toward abstraction in the 1960s, Blackwood’s figurative storytelling found fertile ground in copperplate etching and aquatint. His work recounts real maritime histories—lost boats, rescues, and the vast presence of whales—often drawn from family lore and memories predating his 1941 birth. The result is an intimate record of Newfoundland’s sea-faring spirit rendered with precision and emotional gravity.
Dedication to Craft and the Question of Editions
Prints are typically issued in limited editions to preserve plate integrity. Yet Blackwood’s practice defied some conventions: he often did not complete a full edition, and he never cancelled the plates. His wife, Anita Blackwood, inherited a trove of copperplates, with a decision to refrain from posthumous printing. As Wiersma notes, the plates remain a touchstone of authenticity: the artist’s hand is visible in every stage, from etching to proofing to final pull.
Legacy in a Modern Context
The AGO retrospective—built on the archive Wiersma now manages—offers visitors a vivid education in printmaking as an original, not a reproduction. It also situates Blackwood within a broader history of master printers who collaborate with artists to realize complex visions. Greist highlights parallels with artists like William Kentridge and Robert Rauschenberg, while noting that Inuit printmaking often relies on master printers, underscoring a cross-cultural respect for the craft. In Blackwood’s case, the process is singular: a tactile journey through copper, acid, ink, and a patient hand that refused to relinquish authorship.
Conclusion: The Deep Remains a Human Story
As Wiersma demonstrates the stage-by-stage production of Blackwood’s work, visitors glimpse the discipline that underpinned his celebrated imagery. The plates themselves are more than tools; they are the musical score of a life spent listening to the sea and translating its drama into line and shadow. While there will be no posthumous mummers, seals, or schooners, Blackwood’s legacy endures in the meticulous craft of his prints and in the enduring power of Newfoundland’s maritime memory.
