(long) haul

I called and left a message. The guy called back quickly....from our doorstep. He wanted to see our place. It seems Allan likes to write when he's not shooting and he looks for quiet spots close to filming. The location guy (Noel, pronounced Nole) wanted to know if we were going to be home and if Allan could use our place if he needed it. Uhhhh, let me think about that....YES!

We would need to be out of the house though.

So they were filming the next day. The whole road was under surveillance all night. I decided to move the car that night instead of the morning. The night watch dude approached me and said I didn't need to move it until the morning. Of course, I had to drop the name of the location manager, Noel, and said that Allan (as if we were close friends) may need to use our place to write between scenes. There was no reason for him to have this information and it had nothing to do with me moving the car, I just felt that he needed to know that I knew what was going on.....he just responded, "Cool."

Amy just left that morning. A star could be in my house next, so of course, now I have to clean the place again at about 8 p.m. We (I) cleaned up the place and got ready for bed. Had to watch the latest episode of Republic of Doyle on the computer. I think you can only download it in Canada.

The next morning, I took pictures of the road and have videos of all of the takes from that scene. Noel never called. We went for a walk to see if we could view some of the other filming down the road, closer to the harbor. Only saw the extras. When we got back, we decided to ask Noel to see if he (read Allan) needed our place. Noel was right by our house, so we gave him the extra key just in case. Well, they finished filming early and it seems Allan didn't need our place :( but Noel stopped by to return the key and offered us $40 for being good sports. Fine with me, but I was really looking forward to bragging rights and a good story. I asked if they needed any extras and he said he'd send me an email with contact information.

Later that night, we went out. I returned only to discover that Noel gave us the wrong key. Not sure who it belonged to, but we needed our key back. I saw that they were still filming behind our house this time. I took a walk over to the scene and quickly ran into Noel. He was pretty upset with himself and had to make a phone call. He stopped by about 10 minutes later with our key and was very apologetic. A few minutes after that, I got the contact information for casting.

Noel sent me the personal email of the casting person (Natalia) with a note from to her introducing me. I wrote her and told her I'd be interested in being an extra. I sent in my picture as well. So now we wait to see if she responds. So far, nothing.

"It's Jake Doyle versus Allan Hawco - cool versus uncool," he laughs on the phone from the Republic of Doyle set in St. John's.

"For a long time I always wanted to have a GTO or a Charger. It would have been cool in my teens and there are a lot of adults who can pull it off, but it doesn't suit my personality. ... I don't have the disposition that does it properly," says Hawco, who also writes and produces the comedy-drama series.

"That's the parallel for any actor. You capture something in a character and you bring as much of your own personality that's realistic and possible to the character you're playing. There's always a separation - the character you're playing doesn't really represent who you are.

"The juxtaposition of those two cars is the perfect separation for Jake and Allan."

Deep down, Hawco says he's just not cool enough in real life. "There's no way I'd be able to pull off driving a really cool car because I'm not cool at all. I get to play a character who drives a GTO - he's awesome - but it would never work for me."

For the native of the Goulds, Nfld., a truck makes more sense. "My Dad always had pickup trucks growing up; that's probably why I have one myself.

"It feels good. It has a lot of power and 4WD - it had the best of everything I needed. It's a nice little mid-size pickup truck with a standard transmission," says the 32-year-old actor, who initially enrolled in business at Memorial University, but dropped that to study at the National Theatre School of Canada in Montreal.

But the truck does have one major flaw: there's no rear-defrost system. "It's the one … drawback to mid-size pickups," he says. "Because I live in a smaller city in Newfoundland, and a lot of the things I do involves needing the use of my truck, it validates the reason why I need it. My dad can also take it to go moose hunting. It suits the lifestyle I have now."

Growing up, he used to tinker with his father's old Mustang, but now he's not much of a gear head. "When I was younger, I knew a bit more about some of the older cars… Now I feel like I've lost all that knowledge. There's no room left in my brain for any of it.

"I don't even know how to plug in my VCR. VCR - who has a VCR any more? I don't even know what I'm talking about!" he says, laughing.

Hawco does appreciate the GTO's ride and handling. "I really like driving and I like to do my own stunts. We do a lot of cool car chases. I'm not a stunt driver, but for the most part I try to do most of the stunts in my car as possible. I feel really comfortable behind the wheel of a car - I've been doing it since I was 10."

He pulled some stunts back then, too. "When I was 10, I used to sneak into my mother's car, a Reliant K-car. We had a big, long driveway with a huge white fence at the bottom and a basketball net at the end. I used to get in and fly up and down the driveway with all my friends in the car.

"One time, I was flying up and down the driveway in the K-car with my buddies. I was so young, so small that when I hit the brake I hit the gas and I smashed the car right through the fence. …

"The basketball net flew about 60 feet into the backyard. The whole fence was destroyed. Weirdly enough, though, the old Reliant K didn't have a dent in it.

"Mom got in the car at night and she didn't even look at it. Dad came home from work the next day and blamed it on my brother. I held the secret for a lot of years," laughs the actor who also starred in the television dramas ZOS: Zone of Separation , Trojan Horse and H2O .

At 18, Hawco learned to drive a stick shift. "I was first learning to drive a standard on the crest of Prescott Street and Duckworth in St. John's. There's a light and I was on a hill. I hadn't figured out how to start up again on a hill. I was there 25 minutes spinning my wheels. I was terrified to roll back and slam into the person behind me. That was really embarrassing."

What Tom Thomson was to the wilds of Northern Ontario, and Miller Brittain was to the hardscrabble city of Saint John, David Blackwood is to coastal Newfoundland.

Blackwood's sublime prints, views of outport life and legends that illuminate Newfoundland's history, ghost stories, domestic life and local heroes, are visionary; Blakean in their epic scope, violent Nordic mysticism and luminous, shadow-stalked application of aquatint to paper.

As someone who grew up in New Brunswick, I'm more than familiar with Blackwood's work. I feel like I've been looking at it all my life, on everything from posters to book covers. And many of the 70 prints on display in the Art Gallery of Ontario's stunning new Blackwood retrospective in Toronto, Black Ice, remind me of my formative years, those happy days spent ducking dogfish hucked at my head while being thrown into the Bay of Fundy.

But I am not a Newfoundlander, and when artworks are as culturally specific as Blackwood's prints are to the island, it's best to call in an actual resident.

Luckily, Allan Hawco, the star and co-creator of CBC Television's hit dramedy Republic of Doyle, agreed to wander around the Blackwood show with me, offering his own insights into, and abundant love for, the work. A handsome natural charmer and born talker, Hawco only took his eyes off the Blackwoods when he had to, which was about every eight minutes, due to the unending attention of otherwise unflappable middle-aged ladies. Some guys get it all.

"Blackwood is a staple," Hawco says upfront, "a staple from a place that is so small but produces so much art - and if you don't know he's from Newfoundland, there's something wrong with you."

Looking at Blackwood's 1971 print Great Lost Party Adrift (which is about a nautical disaster, not a bridal shower), Hawco stops, struck by the depiction of dozens of men trapped on an iceberg, and discusses the role of death in Newfoundland art.

"This is based on a true story, a sealing disaster from 1914. Ninety men died waiting for a ship to rescue them, a whole town's generation of men. But look over here, at this one [ Spirit Departing - Once Told Tale, from 1968, featuring a linen-white spectral figure misting off a dead body]- there's so much loss in Blackwood's art, so much mourning. Mourning, but not morbid."

Another work, Uncle Sam Kelloway, from 1983, features a pair of knitted gloves and a set of tools resting on a table. Hawco smiles. "These are my dad's gloves! He still has a pair like this. I have a pair of these gloves. It's all so … present, still."

With all Blackwood's ghouls, masked mummers, pale infernal faces peering into black nights, fires (from torches, bonfires, burning houses and ships), coffins and cloaks, plus his endless acres of cold, gun-metal-blue ice, one wonders (well, I wonder, because all Atlantic Canadians love nothing more than teasing other Atlantic Canadians, especially those not from one's own province) if Blackwood overplays his magic-realist hand? If, in fact, the whole seaside gothic, campfire-spooky fairy-tale stuff is a bit of a shtick, something to sell to gullible mainlanders? Hawco is ready for the taunt.

"I hear what you're saying, but Blackwood's work isn't that easy, it's smarter than that, deeper.

"Yes, I do come from a storytelling culture, and my grandfather was a schooner skipper when he was 16 years old and supported the whole family, and, yes, I used to go mumming at Christmas, so maybe I'm a bit guilty of overdoing the Newfoundland angle sometimes - but all those things I just said, they're just the truth."

When I tell him I get frustrated by the fact that many Atlantic-Canadian artists, in all genres, completely ignore the region's urban, sophisticated history (and current reality), Hawco agrees.

"Yeah, I did all that average North American kid stuff too - I watched television, I listened to pop music. And I know what you mean about people faking being more rural and peculiar to seem more "real." But on the other hand, I know that when I hang out with my friends at home, everyone has a tale to tell, a fresh one, and they've got about two seconds to get it out before somebody comes up with a better one.

"Even if we are all now city people with laptops, we still can't let go of that part of our culture."

Although Hawco agrees that Blackwood's art is steeped, down to its deepest, midnight blacks, in Newfoundland lore, he rejects the idea of the work being the province's "official art."

"That designation would vary from Newfoundlander to Newfoundlander, and Blackwood would have a lot of competition for that title, if it ever existed. However, Newfoundlanders are very emotional about our stories.

"I don't like to be smug or exclusive, because every place in Canada has its stories - we feel special about where we come from, but I don't expect people to see us as special. And that's the difference, I think, between making a beautiful and very distinct, very specific record of our history, like Blackwood does, and the mere marketing of a culture, which anybody can do."