Until January 12, 1996 Taking a walk through the Bermuda National Gallery's current 40-work survey of the methodologies of printmaking is like tumbling headfirst through the whole of the artform's history.

Ah, the viewer will say to himself as he strolls through the BNG's Ondaatje Wing, there is Rembrandt's "The Raising of Lazarus,'' an exquisitely detailed 17th-century example of one of the earliest forms of printmaking -- the etching or intaglio print, in which the artist draws an image on a polished metal plate with a fine steel point, immerses the plate in a bath of acid and then presses a sheet of paper into the resulting lines.

And over there, the spectator will continue to marvel as he moves about the room, is Whistler's "The Little Model Resting,'' a simple but engaging sample of a late 19th-century lithograph, wherein the printmaker has created his image on a flat surface with a greasy kind of ink, then moistened the plate to repel the ink.

Meanwhile, the by-now-captivated viewer will whisper to himself as he exits the Ondaatje Wing and enters the main foyer, there's a collection of Graeme Outerbridge silkscreens, with which the artist has...Hey, wait a minute -- did someone say Graeme Outerbridge?! On the same walls as Rembrandt and Whistler? Unfortunately, someone did. In this very curious assemblage, which was put together by senior Gallery curator Marlee Robinson and sponsored to a great degree by the Christian Humann Foundation, the 45-year-old Mr. Outerbridge has been given pride of place over the likes of Goya, Manet and Degas, while Desmond Fountain, a deservedly admired artist in Bermuda but a peripheral figure at best internationally, hangs alongside Hogarth and David Hockney.

So why, ultimately, has the co-mingling of such decidedly uneven talents transpired? It certainly, as even a superficial comparison will indicate, wasn't because the above-mentioned or indeed any of the Bermudian works in the exhibition are of extraordinary calibre or interest. In fact, Mr.

Outerbridge's 1995 series of pink silkscreens called "In the Pink'' does not even convey the artist at his finest, while "Cry Wolf,'' a two-year-old linocut by 29-year-old Briton Helen Whight (a promising and recently departed young artist whose work has often been praised by this reviewer) is remarkable for its unremarkableness.

Of the prints in this collection of supposedly masterful works -- in the catalogue for the exhibition, Ms Robinson writes, somewhat ludicrously, that the assembly represents the output of "masters'' both old and new -- only Mr.

Fountain's highly sensual "Night'' can even remotely be considered on the same artistic playing field as a Lichtenstein or a Frink (both of whom are represented in the "Into Print'' collection). But even then, to call either him or David Robinson (a Bermudian graphic artist whose ink-jet with silkscreen "Devonshire Dock'' merits inclusion in the exhibition on the grounds that his studio in California is at least on the cutting edge of computerised printmaking) a "master'' in the same context as Goya or even the contemporary but internationally accomplished Frank Stella is to invite both embarrassment and derision.

Since, of course, a primary goal of "Into Print'' was also to provide the public with "a fuller understanding of the term `print,''' Ms Robinson was undoubtedly challenged by her mandate to assemble a collection that reflected the full spectrum of printmaking techniques (and indeed Ms Whight's "Cry Wolf'' is the sole example in the exhibition of a linoleum linocut, while Mr.

Fountain constitutes the only contributor of a pair of drypoint prints). On the subject of curatorial challenges, however, it would and indeed seems to be a sad state of affairs if the National Gallery of Bermuda cannot drum up at least some satisfactory examples of whatever it is it wants to illuminate, in which case it may as well close up shop altogether, or at the very least not attempt such ambitiously comprehensive exhibitions until it can do them well.

Ostensibly, yet another objective of "Into Print'' was to "show the quality of (artistic) collections on the Island,'' although it ultimately comes off looking like little more than one gigantic ego trip, which is rather a shame, since almost all of the old-master prints that Ms Robinson has assembled for `Into Print' a disappointment From Page 13 are fantastic (Hogarth's complex and intricately observed "Pit Ticket from the Royal Sport'' is a particular delight) and the exhibition itself culminates an exciting collaboration with the legendary US printmaker Kenneth Tyler, whose Tyler Graphics workshop in New York's Westchester County has provided 10 prints by such actual modern masters as Stella, Lichtenstein and Masami Teraoka. Of this inventive lot, the prints by Stella and Lichtenstein are in particular memorable, their "The Whale Watch'' (1993) and "Reflections on the Scream'' (1990) serving as epic, witty homages to Melville and Munch respectively.

No matter how inspiring or extraordinary these world-class prints may be, however, it is the unevenness of the selections as a whole that ultimately mires "Into Print,'' the disappointing curatorial hamfistedness that saddles what could have been a superior exhibition with an air of parochial second-rateness.

On a similar note, of course, there is also something decidedly incestuous about an exhibition which casts Mr. Fountain in the role of both exhibitor and lender, which acquires another print on display from the printer of the "Into Print'' catalogue and which includes a pair of rather unappealing prints by the controversial Briton Sir Eduardo Paolozzi (of whom Ms Robinson is a well-known devotee) because they are simply on hand.

"Just because it's Canadian,'' a high school English teacher used to tell this reviewer, explaining her criteria for choosing which books would be studied in an advanced Canadian literature course, "doesn't mean it's any good.'' By substituting the word "Canadian'' with "available'' or "Bermudian,'' the BNG would do well to pay heed to her credo as it plans any future projects.

DANNY SINOPOLI MASAMI TERAOKA'S "CATFISH ENVY'' (1993) -- The "Into Print'' exhibition culminates an exciting collaboration with legendary US printmaker Kenneth Tyler, whose New York workshop provided works by a number of modern masters.