I’m not sure how best to express this, but something I’ve always liked about the Blackwing 602 is how its reputation came about. I’m not talking about the Internet-inflected (infected?) hyperbole you read today, I mean how it quietly kept going on for more than 60 years and in spite of the fact it was largely un-trumpeted by its own manufacturer.
Everything now seems to indicate that in its lifetime, the Blackwing wasn’t a big seller. It wasn’t promoted as being “the best” anything. It wasn’t a fad or gimmick. It was just a good pencil.
The integrity of its design remained virtually intact, even after extended ferrules were long out of use. Compare this to some of its better-selling contemporaries such as the Van Dyke and Microtomic, both of which underwent some significant changes in design (in fact, the Van Dyke went on to become the Microtomic). The Blackwing didn’t seem to have been advertised much, either. But the Mongol, Van Dyke, and Microtomic were often the subject of full-page advertisements in major publications—some even came complete with a spokesmodel!
In contrast, the Blackwing seems to have been a quiet but consistent choice among some discerning consumers, and in sufficient numbers to maintain a place in the Eberhard Faber catalog. It didn’t need to have a story told about it. It didn’t need any celebrity connections. No silly ad campaigns for the Blackwing either. It was just a good pencil.
It seems that people came to learn about the Blackwing the old fashioned way—by word of mouth; back when you said something and stood by it. And the people who heard you say it knew it was you, and were glad you said it.
Despite the Fabers having been Americans for a few generations by that point, there was still an old-world way about it all: find the best materials, build with your own hands, be precise, take pride in your work. This sentiment becomes especially meaningful as I read about the Eberhard Faber Company’s hardships during the Great Depression.
After having learned more—but hardly all—about the Blackwing 602’s history, the expression “best pencil ever made” turns out to be a back-dated epithet, not a contemporaneous depiction. And I think it’s for the better. It was just a good pencil.
While ogling this photo of The Good Pencil at rest, it struck me that of all Sean’s photos which show Blackwings identifiably his, we never see the whole eraser, and often times we don’t see much of the ferrule either (in making this argument I did not survey the entire body of photo-graphic work contained within Blackwing Pages, so I may well be mistaken). If my assumption is correct Sean, may I inquire why? Allowing the foreshortened length of the Blackwing to lead the viewer’s eye into and out of the frame exhibits strength in pictorial composition, but is there some other more mundane reason why you don’t show the very end of the eraser?
The above really is my roundabout way of asking whether you actually use the erasers in your Blackwings if they are still viable. If you do not, what eraser(s) do you favor to correct your music sheets?
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I don’t know if there is a modern analogue to the wide variety of Good Pencil(s) mass-produced as a matter of course in mid-century America, but if I had to guess the ethos of today’s Japanese pencil industry comes closest to that which obtained during our woodclinched Golden Age. Quality for quality’s sake is not entirely passe, even if it is much more expensive.
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Oh, just chalk it up to amateur photography. I just try to arrange something that looks pleasing and go from there. Coincidentally, I just now posted some pictures that feature the eraser.
The Blackwing’s erasers are essentially useless. I once described them as being “pink graphite smearers” rather than as erasers. There are a few different erasers I use, but none so much as the Pilot Foam Eraser—it’s really something else. If the texture is dense and I need to spot-erase, I use a Staedtler battery-operated eraser. Others include the Kokuyo Campus 2B eraser, SEED Gold, and Faber-Castell.
On a side note, the Blaisdell Calculator pencil is resistant to complete erasure, including from the Pilot.
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(Smiling). You’re far too modest about your ability to arrange the 602 in the most ravishing poses. “I know it when I see it.”
How true. There is nothing as counterproductive as a defective rubber. On second thought that might not literally be true. Dreadful. Dreadful.
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There’s something suggestive about that first photo….I just can’t quite put my finger on it.
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Uh um…..the second photo.
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Keep this blog PG-rated! 🙂
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