Another One Bites the Dust
I tried to leave sorrows behind me when I left the building at the Grand Opening of the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, understanding the significance of having been the only staff member who had not received a name tag. I wondered when I would get called into the CEO’s office for the termination of my employment. That weekend, I reflected on the Grand opening, and looked at the ceremonial program and museum program. I didn’t even want to share these with my children or parents. I was being officially erased from the center’s history.
I hadn’t connected all dots since my return from Fort Scott last December 2015. It was crystal clear now and I felt like an idiot. What were the CEO’s future plans and what was he intending to do with the Fort Scott scenery? Then realization dawned. That’s why he delayed the scenery restoration too; he was looking for someone else to restore the scenes and finally found someone else to do it.
I recalled a meeting early that spring where I was discussing the selection and hiring of individuals for the restoration crew. At that time, the CEO asked why I couldn’t just train in a crew to restore the collection and walk away to do other things. “It’s not that easy,” I responded, “Every drop is different. There is not set way to restore every single scene.” I then went on to explain that each drop had developed a unique shape and overall condition throughout the course of its life. The fabric would stretch in odd ways, the binding could break down, the paint could loose its vibrancy, or many other things would alter the restoration process.
Furthermore, there was the netting dilemma. All of the theatrical suppliers in the United States purchased from the same looms. The netting that we now buy is nothing like what was used a century ago. The knots slip and have to be hand-checked prior to gluing to the cut center. If the slipping knots are not sewn to prevent movement, the entire scene can sag over the course of a few months. “THAT is a nightmare,” I exclaimed, “but it only ever happened once; I learned my lesson.”
I was in the middle of two restoration jobs – Santa Fe and St. Paul during 2002. When I returned to St. Paul after doing a phase in Santa Fe, the entire treasure scene cut drop was sagging. The netting reminded me of silly putty. We had to re-net the entire scene, much to the detriment of the painted surface. I realized that it was the slipping knots. From that point on, I hand checked every single knotted intersection over yards and yards of netting. It is time consuming – but crucial to the restoration process. It’s not a problem for new scenery as there isn’t a single contemporary production that hangs for several decades.
On top of that, I expanded, there is a specific way to stretch the netting on a historic drop and it is not like stretching netting on a new piece of fabric; you have to gauge the thickness, the weave, the age – it’s hard. If you stretch it too tight, the painted surround puckers. If you don’t stretch it enough, the center sags.
Both the CEO and general director knowingly nodded at my description. “Well how do all the other restoration companies handle this problem?” they general director asked.
“Good luck finding another one,” I responded. “Most studios recommend replicas.” I explained that I was one of only two professionals specifically specializing in scenery restoration. I knew of only one other individual in the United States who was also a friend, Chris Hadsel, She specialized in small roll drops for Grange Halls or northeastern United States public halls. This was radically different that the dozens of counterweighted drops in Scottish Rite theatres that were my specialty.
“Look, “ I went on, “When Masons contact scenery companies or paint studios, the company representatives often explain that the drops are too far gone – the fabric is dry rotted. They offer to do a replica instead, but the composition NEVER looks the same as it is a different style of painting and paint medium.” I went on to give my standard speech explaining that exact replicas for these historical scenes are impossible due to the scarcity of dye and dry pigment colors, in addition to the rarity of artists well-versed in historical painting techniques. Contemporary scene painting methodology and paint application will never carry the same fluidity of motion, economy of brush stroke, or technical manner in which the original backdrops were painted; lacking the original artist’s sheer experience of working solely with the dry pigment paint system for his entire career.
A close approximation of the composition and painting techniques may be produced with certain accuracy, yet the technical expertise of contemporary scenic artists cannot compare with their predecessors. Contemporary scenic artists, no matter what their skill level or education, fail to deliver a product similar to scenic artists from the 1870s-1940s. Scenic artists often painted scenery 10-12 hours a day, six days a week, for 40-60 years. Their expertise is unequaled.
“Furthermore,” I went on to say, “This is why many scenic studios are unfamiliar with dry pigment painting to do a proper restoration. They recommend a painted replica, explaining that it will be cheaper than restoring the original.” I ended with, “If scenery restoration were cheap and easy, every Scottish Rite theatre across the country would have a restored scenery collection.”
“Can you replicate these historic scenes? “ the CEO asked. My first thought was, “What?!?” Then I promptly responded, “Of course I can, but even I don’t have the same experience as the original scenic artists.”
“You mean we could have painted new drops instead of restoring old ones?” The CEO insisted. Everything stopped. “Oh my God,” I thought, “he just missed the whole point of my conversation; furthermore, he has no idea that I am an accomplished scenic artist.”
I took a deep breath and calmly said, “Look, the whole point of designing a space to accommodate historic scenery is to have the paintings of Thomas G. Moses on display and not those of a contemporary scenic artist. We want to hang fraternal heritage for future generations to appreciate, not make a copy.”
I went back to my office where Jean Montgomery was working in the library. “I can’t believe it!” I shouted to down to the basement from the top of the stairs. Descending, I continued my rage, “They are looking for someone else to restore the scenery and they think I’m too stupid to realize it!”
I sat on the bottom step peering through the railing and said, “They actually think that there are a whole slew of people doing scenery restoration.” Then I sat up a grinned, “ Well, they’re going to have a hard time finding someone who knows what they’re actually doing.”
“Ya think?” Jean responded.
To be continued…
