Part 712: The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting, 1902
The following is the second in a series of posts pertaining to the article “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting,” published in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries” by W. Wheeler, during 1902. Here is part two of three posts:
“In former days each leading theatre had its own staff of scene-painters; now the rule is for the scenes to be distributed among several artists, regard being had, of course, to the special aptitudes of one just indicated, is that the work is no longer for the most part done in the theatres, but in buildings rented or acquired by the various artists, and by them adapted to their requirements. Almost the only exception to this rule is Drury Lane, which is such an enormous structure that there is room in it for at least some of the scenes that are presently to grace the stage to be painted “on the premises.” At Drury Lane, indeed, there is room for everything.
Other theatres have to store their scenes in railway arches, and so forth, and my readers will doubtless remember how not so very long ago a fire in one of these arches wrought havoc among the beautiful scenes which Sir Henry Irving had accumulated; but Drury Lane Henry Irving had accumulated; but Drury Lane.
This leads me to speak of yet another change that has come over the -” mystery ” of scene -painting. Formerly the canvas was spread on the floor, and the artist traced his designs with a brush having a handle long enough to permit of his standing over his work. The inconveniences of this modus operandi are obvious enough. In the first place, the work could only be done in a building with a large superficial area. The Covent Garden Opera House requires scenes seventy feet long by forty feet broad, and though the stage of Covent Garden is the largest in this country, scenes
for an average theatre have to be some forty feet by thirty-five feet. The position, too, was an awkward and tiring one for the painter, who must have known excellently well what backache means, and who was also reduced to the painful necessity of treading his work under foot. Now all these drawbacks are avoided by the simple expedient of a windlass and a slit in the floor, through which the canvas, attached to a frame, is raised or lowered so as to bring that part of it which is being operated upon at the moment on a level with the painter’s arm.
It is still necessary, of course, that the painter should have a fairly lofty building to work in, but he requires comparatively little floor space. In Macklin Street, between Holborn and Drury Lane, a large warehouse has been converted into painting rooms by two well-known scenic artists. Other scene-painters have appropriated and adapted such buildings as factories and mission chapels rather farther afield, where probably space is a less costly commodity than it is within a stone’s – throw of the Holborn Restaurant; and there is one painting room so far away from theatre-land as Lewisham. Mr. Bruce Smith, who works only for Drury Lane and Covent Garden — though he does not, of course, monopolize the contracts given out by these two theatres, since he is only capable of doing the work of two or three men and not of a round dozen — does some of his painting at Drury Lane; and, as he is one of those who can do two things at once, friends who call upon him here seldom find him too busy to have a chat.
Before passing on to describe how scene- painting is done, I should mention the rather curious circumstance that our ingenious neighbours across the Channel still paint on the floor. That they produce good results, at whatever inconvenience to themselves, may, to use one of their own idioms, go without saying, for so artistic and theatre-loving a nation as the French are not likely to be content with inferior work. Speaking generally and roughly, the French scene – painter aims, perhaps, at rather quieter effects than his English compeer, but it would require a robust patriotism to assert that they are less artistic.
To be continued…
