Month: June 2017

I first encountered the Jevne & Almini Company when creating an index for the typed manuscript of Thomas Gibbs Moses. It was an independent study project for my mentor, Lance Brockman. This decorating firm would remain in the back of my mind for almost three decades until I started making a few connections during January 2017. Moses was one of many nineteenth-century scenic artists who would begin their careers at the fresco studio of Jevne & Almini.

While working as a decorator for the company, Moses recalled a project at Hooleys Theater where he first encountered the scenic art of Charles Graham (1852-1911). In 1874. Moses wrote, “In June I was sent to Hooleys Theatre to work. On the scenery [were] employed J. Francis Murphy and Chas. Graham. I was put in charge of the proscenium boxes, mostly gilding. I could see the work being done on the paint frame. I was more convinced that scenery was what I wanted to do; more opportunity to do landscapes.”

Hooley’s Opera House, the Parlor of Home Comedy, was dedicated on 21 October 1872 and later became known simply as Hooley’s Theater (1872-1924). Located at 124 West Randolph Street, the cut stone and iron building occupied twenty-three feet of street frontage.

The auditorium had a seating capacity of 1,500 and the stage was 50 feet wide and 65 feet deep. Mr. Hooley and his stock company first appeared on Monday evening, 31 August 1874. This upcoming performance was why an eighteen-year-old Moses was working at the theater that June.

Charles S. Graham (1852-1911) was born in Rock Island, Illinois. He became a topographer in 1873 for the Northern Pacific Railroad and it was this position became his training ground as a draftsman and artist. However from 1874 to 1877, Graham painted theatrical scenery in both Chicago and New York. It just so happened that it was on one of his first scenic art jobs that Moses encountered his scenery painting. By 1878, Graham started as the staff artist at Harper’s Weekly and remained there until 1892. He was also a contributing illustrator for a variety of other publications, including the New York Herald, the Chicago Tribune, the American Lithograph Company, and Collier’s. The work of Graham is best known in the publication “Peristyle and Plasaisance” where he created a series of watercolors depicting scenes from the 1893 Chicago world’s fair. Advertisements stated that the illustrations illustrated “nooks and corners of the Fair as no photograph could do.”

Amazingly, it was one of Graham’s 1878 illustrations for Harper’s that caught my eye years ago as it beautifully captured scenic artists at work in a theater.

It was created for “The Sunday Telegraph” (New York, September 28, 1902) and titled “The Scene Painter is No Ghost.” Here is the article that accompanied Graham’s illustration:

“How many theatregoers can give the names of three scene painters in New York? Playhouse patrons admire their art, and even applaud it on opening night, but they know nothing about it, and it is a most unusual occasion when the artist is called before the curtain. He is not discussed at clubs or in the drawing rooms. The cheapest show girl in a Broadway burlesque, with just about brains enough to remember he name over night, gets her picture in the magazines several times in the course of a season and is written about as if she really was of some importance.

Up on the paint bridge, seventy feet above her head, is the scene painter. He is putting the finishing touches to a drop that has taken him many days to paint and more years of hard study to learn how. The press agent never worries him for his photograph, the dramatic reporters couldn’t find him if they went back on stage. The show is over, the lights are put out and a deathly stillness settles upon the theatre. The watchman lazily makes his rounds and finds the scenic artist and his assistants at work finishing a drop or a border or priming new ones. When the artist leaves the theatre the streets are still. He reaches home and over his pipe wonders if the game is worth the candle.”

To be continued…

Drapery painting for the theater has a long tradition dating back centuries. Many of the earliest examples depict the same techniques practiced by early-twentieth century artists. It is part of a painting tradition that creates a composition to be viewed from a distance. The three-color painting techniques described in the past two installments to depict drapery for the stage were not only used in eighteenth century painted curtains and scenery for court theaters, but also in ceiling frescoes. Murals placed high above used the same techniques that early-twentieth century scenic artists also would produce for the stage. There remained the separation of color and value that allowed the eye to complete the illusion, making these painted compositions extremely successful when viewed from a distance.

The similarities were not coincidental as many scenic artists found early work and training in fresco studios. As I began compiling a database on North American scenic artists this past fall, I repeatedly encountered nineteenth century scenic artists who began their careers at fresco studios. I had started explored the connection between theatre decorators and scenic artists while touring Europe last year; large-scale paintings intended to be viewed from a distance followed many of the same rules that scenic artists used in terms of value and technique. One decorating studio that provided a start for many nineteenth century scenic artists was the Chicago-based firm of Jevne & Almini. Founded by Peter Magnus Almini (1825-1890) and Otto Jevne (1823-1905) in 1853 many theatre artists and recent immigrants found work in their studio.

Jevne was born near Lillehammer, Norway, and learned the trade there as a fresco painter. He had a variety of skills in both stained glass and fresco work. In 1872, he applied for a patent concerning the improvement in lath-and-plaster walls and ceilings. The invention related to a novel form of wooden lath and “the combination therewith of plaster in such a manner that the wall or ceiling may be made of much thinner and lighter, and at he same time have a firmer texture and be less liable to exhibit the lines or strains caused by lath over time in common walls and ceilings” (US Patent 124,138).

Almini was born in Linderås, Småland, Sweden, and learned his painter’s trade in Eksjö, working his trade in Russia and Finland. For six years, Almini lived in Stockholm and was the assistant superintendent in the decorating of the royal palace.

The two immigrated to the United States around during the early 1850s. What they created for many public spaces, Americans gazed at in wonder. In I. D. Guyer’s 1862,“History of Chicago; Its Commercial and Manufacturing Interests and Industry; Together with Sketches of Manufacturers and Men Who Have Most Contributed to Its Prosperity and Advancement with Glances at Some of the Best Hotels; also the Principal Railroads which Center in Chicago,” the firm of Jevne & Almini is highlighted in the chapter “Interior Decorations.” The publication states that Jevne and Almini had “inculcated and infused a higher level of Fresco Painting” in the city since 1853. The firm is credited with decorating the Crosby Opera House, the Sherman House, the Chicago Chamber of Commerce, Trinity Church, First Presbyterian, Wabash Avenue Methodist Church, and many State Capitol buildings that included Georgia, Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, and Wisconsin. They also were involved in the decoration of many early Masonic Halls, including those in the American Express Building.

Jevne & Amini were not simply known for their plaster innovations and decorative painting skills. The two were also quite infamous as publishers, printing a journal devoted to art and architecture titled “Chicago Illustrated.”

In 1865, Jevne & Almini joined with Louis Kurtz to form the Chicago Lithographing Co. Kurtz drew the prints for one of the company’s portfolios, titled “Chicago Illustrated.” Their portfolios are some of visual records depicting life in this bustling city before the fire of 1871. They had a winning talent for not only printing descriptive lithography of landscapes, architecture and cityscapes, but also printed letterheads, cards, bonds, and checks.

Kurtz (born Ludovicus Ferdinandus Josephus Kurtz von Goldenstein) had previously gained recognition in Milwaukee as a scenic artist at his father’s German-language theatre. Moving to Chicago in 1864, he produced some of the stage designs for McVicker’s Theatre and Crosby’s Opera House.

It was his work at Crosby’s that introduced him to Jevne and Almini as they had decorated the building. This trio later added Otto Knirsch and Edward Carqueville to their ranks at Chicago Lithographing Co. Knirsch and Carqueville had previously worked at the Edward Mendel and Currier & Ives firms.

Many visual artists for the theatre found their initial vocation as illustrators, draftsmen, and decorators. Jevne & Almini was the perfect firm to expose artists to a variety projects and unique skill sets. As previously discussed, scenic artists often worked for a variety of venues during the nineteenth century, not just the theatre. They found work wherever they travelled whether it was illustration, drafting, sign painting, interior decoration, or stage scenery. Additionally, Jevne & Almini advertised as “dealers in artists’ and painters’ materials, oil paintings, steel engravings, chromo lithographs, &c.”

They are credited with establishing the first art gallery in Chicago. This would be the forerunner to the Academy of Fine Arts (1879-1882), later the Art Institute of Chicago.

After the 1871 fire, Jevne and Almini separated, each going their own way and founding new companies: Otto Jevne & Co., 226 E. Washington Street and P. M. Almini & Co., 344 State Street.   Whether together or apart, their contributions as two of the leading figures in Chicago’s art scene and businessmen paved the road for many future immigrants working in the city.  Of special note is the assistance that Almini provided to fellow artists as a member of the Academy of Design and vice-president of the Master-Painters and Decorator’s Association of Chicago and the treasurer of the National Association of Painters and Decorators when they were founded. As many other artists, he studied ancient and modern art, always sketching for study and leisure. He was also one of the charter members of the Svea Society, organized in 1857. Interestingly, Almini also became a Mason, belonging to both the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite and the Ancient Arabic Order of the Noble Mystic Shrine.

To be continued…

Frank Atkinson described the painting techniques for shiny fabrics, noting that the configuration of the folds was of lesser importance to the reflective quality. He writes, “Thus satin, with its large, sufficiently remarkable folds, is distinguished still more by its singular brilliancy and the beauty of its reflection.”

In other words, the brush strokes that denote the final highlights are of the utmost importance for reflective fabric. As previously discussed for dull materials, the shape of the fold and suggestion of texture was paramount. This was not necessarily the case with shiny fabric where the placement of the highlight becomes crucial. A good example of this technique is depicted in the front curtain for the Masonic Theater in Grand Forks, North Dakota.

The painted front curtain’s highlights are indicative of the specific fabric. Interestingly, the lightest color does not simply follow the fold but frequently crosses it, catching the light.

This light color may be placed as jagged lines, some even placed at an angle across the fold. It is the placement that creates visual interest and suggests the reflective characteristics of the material. Furthermore, the painting of gathered, or Austrian draperies, also use an interesting highlight at the seam. In some cases, the highlights are painted in loops that indicate the puckering along the gathered line.

It is this particular application of highlight that allows the audience to immediately identify the fabric and understand its unique characteristics.

This now brings us to the patterns placed on either dull of shiny draperies. There is also process to create pattern on ornamental decoration on draperies. Many painted curtains with incredibly complex patterns do not necessarily alter the shape as they cross the deep recesses and peaks for each fold. Simple shapes need to follow the shape of the fabric whereas complex designs do not. For a standard stripe, the scenic artist will carefully follow the curvature of the material, reinforcing each rise and fall.

If the print is complex, one only needs to accentuate the highlight. For the painting of complex patterns of draperies, a stencil could be applied over the entire area of the fabric drape; it does not have to conform to the shape of each fold. Placing the appropriate highlights and shadows on the pattern allows the eye to successfully translate the overall appearance from a distance. It will appear as though the pattern is moving with each fold, even though it doesn’t. This is the same approach as with the broken lines that visually tie it all together.

To be continued…

In 1916, Frank Atkinson wrote the book, “Scene Painting and Bulletin Art.” As part of a discussion on the painting of drapery, he wrote, “The imitation of different fabrics depends chiefly upon the character of the folds.” In other words, the drawing of each fold is crucial when suggesting a specific fabric for the painted composition. Additionally, the brush strokes would define whether the fabric is rough, smooth, dull, or brilliant. The painting technique would denote the material’s texture as “coarse or fine.”

The first consideration in drawing the curtain depicts the thickness and weight of the fabric as suggested by the drawing of curtains. So to make a thick and heavy curtain, the folds are sift and heavy. At the Fargo Scottish Rite, the treasure chamber setting included rugs and other velour curtains.

Similarly at the Salina Scottish Rite, the scenic artists again added the soft and heavy folds characteristic of red velvet or velour.

The salmon curtains at the Yankton Scottish Rite differs in folds and technique, the curtains are thin and lightweight, possibly representative of silk; crisp folds with sharp peaks. The matte highlights are wide and solid, differing from the fine squiggly lines of sateen and other shiny materials that present an almost reflective quality.

In addition to the drawing of folds and paint application is the color palette and which colors are applied as the initial base coat. For dark fabrics of rich jewel tones, there is deep base applied to the entire area. Van Dyke Brown, deep red, Prussian blue or malachite green. After applying a deep base, the mid-tone color designates the folds. Finally the highlight accentuates each rise, contrasting with the deep shadow. The division of the value attributes to the final depth of the folds. For a fabric that is somewhat lighter in color, the mid-tone is used as a base color and the application of the darkest color defines the folds. Finally, wide highlights accentuate the height of each fold.

There is a certain value where using a dark base transitions to a light base. Also, the amount of mid-tone placed on a dark base or a dark placed on a mid-tone base that defines the color of the drapery. By the time a curtain is intended as a cream color or lighter, the base is the lightest color. The mid-tone is applied second and the darkest third. Typically, these two shadows are placed after the light base and include both a warm and a cool wash, reinforcing the depth in the recess of each fold.

To be continued…

There is an historical approach to painting drapery for any stage composition. A simple technique that allows an artist to create artfully draped fabric. Just like broken lines that suggest a hung tapestry, there is a standard and simple approach. For the next few installments I am going to examine a variety of scenic art techniques for painting drapery.

Preserving the past does not solely imply the handling and conservation of specific artifacts. Sometimes, it refers to the study and application of a historical technique. As artists we always observe composition, light, space, and the work of others. For me, there is a constant exploration of various techniques to expand and fine-tune my own skill set. I am always looking for examples to use in the future, tucking away my observations for possible use artistic endeavors. Then the time comes when I search my memory and recall a way to paint a current project. I page through my sources and locate an example to use as a resource or inspiration.

Recently, I was asked to paint two small tapestries for an opera set in Duluth, Minnesota. The scenic designer was a good friend of mine and it had been several years since we had an opportunity to work together. As soon as I saw the design and venue, I remembered the 27th degree for the Scottish Rite depicting a Gothic Interior with tapestries hanging on the wall. I also remembered an historical backdrop from the Chicago Lyric Opera collection that had been on display for USITT.

I had observed this same unique scene painting technique for both commercial and fraternal designs, suggesting tapestries on the stage. It involved the painting of horizontal broken lines across the composition. From the audience, it made the painting appear as a tapestry. Typically, the lines were painted in van dyke, burnt umber, or a cool neutral and spaced ½” – 1” apart. The key was not to paint in a solid line, but use a broken line and allow the viewers eye to fill in the gaps.

A similar technique used a dashes line. This also provided the impression of texture for the fabric. Once example of this particular dashed-line technique was the front curtain in Grand Forks, North Dakota. Personally, I felt that this particular technique did not read as well from a long distance since the paint application was too even.

As a side note, broken lines always read as more natural and less graphic. However, there is a balance in the actual paint application. You have to consider how far the break needs to be or how solid to paint the line. Solid lines that are too solid and long, even for grouting in brick walls, look odd and formulaic.

The Tapestry technique also included the creation of swags in the fabric. In these situations, shadows and highlights were painted into the tapestry to suggest slightly bunched up areas. This meant that the horizontal lines would be painted with a slight curve over each bump – a very effective illusion.

Eventually, a dry-brush technique replaced that of individual lines to suggest tapestry.

My research suggests that this practice was started around the 1920s. It would make sense, as this was the same time that a lot of the studio practices shifted under the guidance of new leadership as many studio techniques were streamlined. Another example if how netting was attached to cut drops. Before the 1920s, netting was attached with individual dots of glue on each knotted intersection. Late, those that glued netting to the backs of cut drops and leg drops used huge swaths of glue along the edge. Many of the changing techniques were the result of decreasing labor and saving time to complete a drop. Therefore, dry brushing was a quick way to get a similar tapestry effect.

To be continued…

I recently came across a debate that concerned the refinishing of antique furniture. There were a series of online discussions started by individuals who wanted to give antiques a more contemporary “feel” for upscale residential homes. The debate ensued as this was going against all advice given by the “Antiques Roadshow” experts. How many times have your heard, “Don’t strip and refinish that antique? Below is one of many statements concerning the proper handling of antique artifacts.

“Never Paint or Refinish Furniture

You should not refinish wood furniture is if the piece is a valuable antique or a unique designer piece that, although not an antique, nevertheless has a lot of value. It’s always a good idea to look for any designer markings on old furniture and to do an Internet search on it before you refinish it. An antique will diminish in value if refinished improperly, and your best bet is to contact a professional in antique furniture preservation.”

Wow. I immediately thought of the destruction of the Fort Scott collection and a subsequent loss of shared heritage. This above statement could be rewritten to apply to historical scenery collections:

“Never Paint or Refinish Historical Scenery

You should not remove the original wooden battens and replace them with pipe pockets is if the scenery collection is a valuable example of theatrical heritage or the work of a significant designer. It is always a good idea to look for any scenic studio stencils and documentation, as well as doing an Internet search on it before you alter it from its original condition. An historical drop will diminish in value and significance if restored improperly, and your best bet is to contact a professional in the field of scenery preservation.”

The Fort Scott collection was significant from the fact that its production occurred during the final Scottish Rite building boom and was solely produced by one scenic artist. As the Fort Scott collection can no longer be viewed in its intended venue, the historical significance solely remained in the original construction, painting, and stage hardware. As the majority of these significant aspects have been stripped away, it has lost much of its significance. All that remains is the preservation of historic painting techniques by one artist. It can no longer be presented as a nationally significant collection as it almost been altered beyond recognition.

It is like a painting an original Chippendale chair and turning it into something else entirely. As with the antique chair, the Fort Scott drops are now a pale remembrance of their former selves.

To be continued…

When I evaluated the Milwaukee Scottish Rite Collection, I encountered tags noting that it had been flame proofed and tested in 1995.

There were burn marks on many of the stage right sides of the drops. The holes were about eighteen inches up from the stage floor and the size of a dime.

This has been a continued battle for decades as Scottish Rites become public rental facilities and cannot rove that the scenery was originally flame proofed. In some regions, a Fire Marshall will insist that the historic scenery get sprayed with a flame retardant.

I understand that fire codes exist for a reason. There is the need to implement safety regulations to protect both the audience and performers. However, I have observed that the application of todays flame retardant on dry pigment scenery alters the painted surface. Cracks appear and the color begins to flake off.

This is an area of study that I have been waiting for an opportunity to explore. A series of test really needs to occur before another collection is sprayed and possibly destroyed. The Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center May 5, 2017 online article notes that a solution of fire retardant was applied to the drops. I wondered about the product that was used and if it will interact with the dry pigment over time.

In Fort Scott, the idea of applying a flame proofing formula to this collection greatly concerned me and I knew that it would have to be addressed at some point prior to hanging the collection. As the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center was a new public performance space, the facility would have to follow current fire codes. While on site in Fort Scott, the crew and I decided to do a fire test on remnants that had come off one of the sky borders. We were all curious to see how quickly the fabric would ignite if exposed to flame.

We went to the parking lot across the street from the Fort Scott Scottish Rite. All of us believed that the old and dry fabric would immediately burst into flames. We lit the corner of our sample on fire and it took quite a while before the fabric began to ignite. Then the flame lessened and within seconds died out, leaving only a burnt edge on our sample. We all looked at each other in surprise and then someone said, “Do it again!” We repeatedly lit our small piece of fabric to see if it could stay lit. Each time the flame was extinguished within a few seconds. We could not successfully light this piece of fabric that was over ninety years old! I was thrilled as the test both proved that the scenery had been originally treated with flame retardant and that it was still working.

Now would this hold up to today’s safety standards? Possibly not, unless an argument could be made that the flame retardant would irreparably damage the painted surface of this historical artifact. The fact that the drop didn’t burn certainly says something about the effectiveness and longevity of the traditional techniques. Once again, I was flabbergasted by how well these painted scenes survived the test of time.

To be continued…