When Photo Realist painter Chuck Close accepted a commission from Parasol Press, it was a foregone conclusion that he would elect an unusual technique—and perhaps even predictable that it would be the mezzotint process, which was once popular for its extraordinary tonal range.

Mezzotint, invented in Germany in the 1600s, is essentially engraving in reverse. One begins with a completely black plate—that is to say, a plate that has had its surface chewed up by the teeth of a rocking tool so that the tiny burrs will hold the ink. The artist then smoothes out the surface wherever a variation is desired.

Instead of the rocker method, printer Kathan Brown of California used a commercial photoengraving technique. This provided a density of 200-dots-per-inch. (Most hand-rocked plates rarely exceed 90, and most magazine photos use a 130-dpi screen.)

The main reason for the unusual method of preparing the plate was, of course, Close’s taste for the monumental. having painted for so long on canvases taller than himself, he must have felt cramped coming down to a plate size of just 44 ½ by 35 inches. Even so, it was more than any etching press had ever been able to handle, and, once again, Ms. Brown was called upon to extend technical frontiers.

Finally provided with the materials and the means, Close spent about six weeks preparing the plate. He used the same method that he uses on paintings, dividing up the surface into dozens of squares that he worked on independently, beginning at the center of the face and moving outward. Keith resembles the super-candid photographic style of Close’s black-and-white paintings. It is cruel in its revelation of details—the skin as rough as the whorls of a huge thumbprint—and sweet in its rich tonal range, which starts in the soft, smoky blacks of the sweater and runs through a full gamut of grays to the paper-white of the background. Another thing that sets it apart is the evidence of its creation: the lines of the grid still scar the surface, and each individual square is set off by differences of tone. (This was at least partly caused by the pulling of proof states that wore down the oldest sections.) This does not bother Close, however, for he never intended to produce a copy of a painting. Rather than the typical graphic that merely supplements the artist’s work (“something to hang over the couch,” as he puts it), the print contributes to a deeper understanding of his techniques and intentions.