Seattle artist Gregory Blackstock dies at 77 - published in Seattle Times, January 27, 2023
| Gregory Blackstock is seen in 2006 at Pioneer Square’s Garde Rail Gallery, the first to show his work. (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times) |
"...a man “who was never bored,” whose intense engagement with the ephemera and variety of the world gave him the most intense pleasure..."
By the time Seattle artist Gregory Blackstock died on Jan. 10 at age 77 after a series of strokes, he had achieved a level of success well beyond that of many of his peers. Of his hundreds of distinctive, catalog-like drawings, only several dozen remain unsold, according to his dealer, Greg Kucera. His work was the focus of several documentaries, a book, as well as a solo museum show in Lausanne, Switzerland.
“He was the truest of the artists I’ve ever worked with,” said Kucera, whose namesake gallery has represented Blackstock since 2012. “He had no idea of the art market; he made work that interested him, with the attitude that, ‘If I like it, other people will like it too.’”
Although Blackstock was never officially diagnosed, his family believes that he had autism spectrum disorder with savant skills. A noted autism expert who spent time with Blackstock as an adult, described him as a “prodigious savant,” said his cousin Dorothy Frisch. This was not an identification that was available to his family when he was young, leading to their sending him for five years to a school for “troubled” youth, an experience he recalled later with great displeasure, Frisch said. When he eventually returned to Seattle, he took a series of low-paying jobs, including 25 years as a dishwasher at the Washington Athletic Club.
A turning point occurred around age 40, when Blackstock began creating the distinctive drawings for which he became known, where his remarkable skills as a prodigious savant came to the fore. By the time cousin Frisch brought him to the attention of his first Seattle gallery in 2003, he had several hundred works on paper rolled up in his closet, in which he had meticulously categorized and fluently depicted every manner of subject matter. The gallery, Garde Rail, jumped at the opportunity to show his pieces, according to Frisch. A dozen one-person exhibitions followed, first at Garde Rail, then with Kucera, and Blackstock was eventually able to live off the sales of his art, and his union pension.
A typical Blackstock work announces its subject with a bold, hand-lettered title: “MONSTERS OF THE DEEP,” “THE DISNEY MARRIED COUPLES,” “THE COMPLETE HISTORIC CONVAIR LINER AIRCRAFT.” The rest of the sheet features rows of tidy, straightforward renderings of the objects in question, often with helpful captions, based on his thorough research and prodigious memory — “World’s largest ray, but harmless,” “The 2nd leading source of maple sugar,” “Fastest record-holder among outboards.” Few subjects were too obscure or technical for his attention; besides collections like shoes, knives and knots, he also devoted an entire sheet to National Park Service warning signs. His interest in systems of order and description even extended to the thesaurus, the focus of sheets covered with hundreds of lines of text, clearly as much of interest to the artist as his more visually compelling compilations, like flags, carrots or architectural landmarks.
“He was the truest of the artists I’ve ever worked with,” said Kucera, whose namesake gallery has represented Blackstock since 2012. “He had no idea of the art market; he made work that interested him, with the attitude that, ‘If I like it, other people will like it too.’”
Although Blackstock was never officially diagnosed, his family believes that he had autism spectrum disorder with savant skills. A noted autism expert who spent time with Blackstock as an adult, described him as a “prodigious savant,” said his cousin Dorothy Frisch. This was not an identification that was available to his family when he was young, leading to their sending him for five years to a school for “troubled” youth, an experience he recalled later with great displeasure, Frisch said. When he eventually returned to Seattle, he took a series of low-paying jobs, including 25 years as a dishwasher at the Washington Athletic Club.
A turning point occurred around age 40, when Blackstock began creating the distinctive drawings for which he became known, where his remarkable skills as a prodigious savant came to the fore. By the time cousin Frisch brought him to the attention of his first Seattle gallery in 2003, he had several hundred works on paper rolled up in his closet, in which he had meticulously categorized and fluently depicted every manner of subject matter. The gallery, Garde Rail, jumped at the opportunity to show his pieces, according to Frisch. A dozen one-person exhibitions followed, first at Garde Rail, then with Kucera, and Blackstock was eventually able to live off the sales of his art, and his union pension.
A typical Blackstock work announces its subject with a bold, hand-lettered title: “MONSTERS OF THE DEEP,” “THE DISNEY MARRIED COUPLES,” “THE COMPLETE HISTORIC CONVAIR LINER AIRCRAFT.” The rest of the sheet features rows of tidy, straightforward renderings of the objects in question, often with helpful captions, based on his thorough research and prodigious memory — “World’s largest ray, but harmless,” “The 2nd leading source of maple sugar,” “Fastest record-holder among outboards.” Few subjects were too obscure or technical for his attention; besides collections like shoes, knives and knots, he also devoted an entire sheet to National Park Service warning signs. His interest in systems of order and description even extended to the thesaurus, the focus of sheets covered with hundreds of lines of text, clearly as much of interest to the artist as his more visually compelling compilations, like flags, carrots or architectural landmarks.
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| Like most of his works, Gregory Blackstock’s “The Roofs” (1999) features rows of tidy, straightforward, labeled renderings of his subject matter. (Ken Lambert / The Seattle Times) |
“Labeling things was really important to him,” said Frisch. “He couldn’t start a drawing until he had titled it and added all the captions; then he would fill in the artwork.” Much of his research took place at the library, and according to Frisch, “the librarians would later show up at his exhibits, with cards and flowers.” Even the Washington Athletic Club honored him after his retirement with a show in its lobby.
Blackstock was also a familiar figure as a street performer, where he indulged his love of accordion music outside of sports stadiums and downtown theaters. Given his shabby dress and odd manners, said Frisch, “you would never dream that he could get by in several languages, quote entire movie dialogue from memory,” or according to Kucera, “remember the location of every drawing he had ever sold.”
What is clear from the recollections of those who knew him best, said Frisch, is a man “who was never bored,” whose intense engagement with the ephemera and variety of the world gave him the most intense pleasure, and who in his own way, basked in the praise that his artworks eventually won for him, proudly embroidering shirts with his name and artistic bona fides.
Blackstock is survived by nine cousins. Memorial gifts may be made in support of the University of Washington Autism Center.
Blackstock was also a familiar figure as a street performer, where he indulged his love of accordion music outside of sports stadiums and downtown theaters. Given his shabby dress and odd manners, said Frisch, “you would never dream that he could get by in several languages, quote entire movie dialogue from memory,” or according to Kucera, “remember the location of every drawing he had ever sold.”
What is clear from the recollections of those who knew him best, said Frisch, is a man “who was never bored,” whose intense engagement with the ephemera and variety of the world gave him the most intense pleasure, and who in his own way, basked in the praise that his artworks eventually won for him, proudly embroidering shirts with his name and artistic bona fides.
Blackstock is survived by nine cousins. Memorial gifts may be made in support of the University of Washington Autism Center.
