Growing up, I exclusively used the workhorse of pencils: the Ticonderoga, No. 2. They were (and are) steady and durable; the black version is particularly attractive.
However, one afternoon outside of San Diego, everything changed. I discovered the Blackwing.
Having already begun my academic career on John Steinbeck, I was alert to any allusions “in the wild.” I was especially alert during my family’s trip to California. When I saw an advertisement noting the connection between Steinbeck and the company, I pounced.
My first Blackwings were a set of matte-black Palominos. It’s the feel of these pencils that draws me into their world. They are perfectly balanced, deceptively light, and as responsive as a fly rod. For good reason the grey 602s have the Blackwing mantra in gold lettering across the body: “Half the pressure, Twice the speed.”
The 602 was a staple in Steinbeck’s carefully-curated lineup of pencils (notable others: Eberhard Mongol, Blaisdell calculator). In the preface to Steinbeck: A Life in Letters, his wife Elaine and Robert Wallsten describe the writer’s relationship with this humble writing tool:
“The pencil was his instrument. He was passionate about pencils, about the way they felt between his fingers, about their weight and pressure. He boasted of callouses from holding them. ‘I sharpen all the pencils in the morning and it takes one more sharpening for a day’s work. That’s twenty-four sharp points. I can make a newly sharpened pencil last almost a page.’”
Steinbeck’s handwriting was obscenely small. One can understand why he insisted on sharp points.
Everything about the Blackwing is a testimony to quality: the cedar body; the Japanese graphite; the iconic paint brush eraser. The revival of this once notoriously rare and expensive brand has moved beyond mere utilitarian goals. Blackwing is committed to crafting pencils that encourage creatives to slow down, to embrace the analog in a world that is increasingly filling up with - what philosopher Byung-Chul Han calls - “non-things.”
In contrast to the smooth and vanishing digital world, pencils root us in the tactile.
Like a good cigar, a pencil has a sweet spot. Though a Blackwing is balanced upon the first sharpening, I’m not fond of having the wagging dog-tail extending toward my wrist. The second half of the pencil is my favorite. After breaking them in, I run them to the last nub.
Steinbeck, however, discarded his pencils when they hit my favorite length. Those unfit for duty went to his son Thom.
I begin almost every academic writing project with a Blackwing and a blank sheet of paper. I like to sketch connections between ideas, visually tracing my thoughts with wild arrows and notations. In my mind, I need to spatially navigate the ideas before attempting to articulate them in writing. This pre-writing is crucial.
The embodied process of sketching avoids the constraints of syntax and the act of typing. There is an intimacy with pencil and paper that is not easily replicated. In a 1959 letter to Elia Kazan, Steinbeck wrote,
“A typewriter stands between me and the word, a tool that has never become an appendage, but a pencil is almost like an umbilical connection between me and the borning letter.”
Though I haven’t gotten my hands on Blackwing’s Steinbeck tribute (Volume 24), I fully expect their products will continue to enrich my creative process.
Links:
Pencil Talk, “Steinbeck’s Favorite Pencils”
J.F. McKenna, “A Most Pointed Fetish: John Steinbeck on Pencils”
Byung-Chul Han interview with ArtReview
Thumbnail photo: Martha Heasley Cox Center for Steinbeck Studies
Have you read Mary Norris's <i>Between You and Me</i>? She writes a whole chapter on pencils, in her book about her career as a copy editor for <i>The New Yorker.</i> That chapter reminded me of my love for good pencils, and I immediately invested in a couple dozen No. 1 pencils, which are a joy.
But now... I will have to research this Blackwing phenomenon, and I hope it doesn't tempt me to be discontented.
I still have a huge collection of mostly inferior pencils left over from 25 years of homeschooling. I wonder if the children would have spent more time writing if their hard pencil leads had not resisted the expression of their thoughts on the page.
I just found out about Blackwing recently - I have no idea how, but here they are, analogue along with my 35mm Nikon, all sharing the same space. So glad you thought to write about them.