Month: April 2019

Part 718: The Scottish Rite in Memphis, Tennessee, 1909

In 1909, Thomas G. Moses recorded that Sosman & Landis produced a scenery collection for the Scottish Rite in Memphis, Tennessee. The scenery is stunning, and some of the best that the studio produced during this period.

The first reunion in the Memphis Scottish Rite building was held from November 15-19, 1909. The “Dedicatory Class” purchased a grandfather clock as a commemorative gift for the building; it is still in use today. I learned about the clock while watching a 41-minute video posted to YouTube by the Memphis Scottish Rite. There have been 7,249 views and it certainly depicts local character.

The YouTube video is a pleasant peak inside the building and includes interviews with General Secretary, Glen Pitts; Director of the Work, Jerry Hanson; Organist, Mark Henderson; and Personal Representative, Joe Harrison. The credits note the producer that the producer is Gerald Leek and the host is James McCraw. Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNm6G2OsDNA

Unfortunately, the host of the video incorrectly credited the scenery production to local students. Specifically, he explained, “a lot of art students came in and painted every single one of the 128 backdrops.” This is not unusual, as when I visited the Salina Scottish Rite, those in charge suggested a similar scenario, except the students came from a fine art college in the east. In many cases, the manufacture of Scottish Rite scenery is attributed to a group of wunderkind, and not experienced scenic artists associated with a scenic studio, such as Sosman & Landis.

Later, while standing in the Memphis Scottish Rite library, our host explains that he is the Masonic historian for the Valley. This bit of information caused my ears to perk up and reconsider his comments about the history of the scenery. Now, it is obvious that this is a well-meaning individual; one who is really trying to do his best to preserve and share Masonic history. However, this entire scenario is more common than one might think, and once again I contemplate my response.

Do I say anything at all? It is seldom beneficial for me to contact a Valley and explain that their perceived history about the stage and scenery is not reflective of the actual facts. Fortunately, over the years I have fine-tuned my approach, starting most conversations with, “That’s very interesting, however, I have some additional information that might help you tell your story…”

In 1980, Dr. John Rothgeb from the University of Texas (Austin) mailed a letter to the Memphis Scottish Rite, General Secretary G. E. Rothrock, inquiring about the scenery. Rothrock responded, “In searching back thru the minutes of these Bodies, I find that the scenery was purchased from M. C. Lilley, who in 1909 was located in Columbus, Ohio.” That means, M.C. Lilley subcontracted the work to Sosman & Landis. Rothrock further noted that the present building was contracted in 1906 and the scenery was purchased in 1909, adding, “There was a controversy and a lot of correspondence was exchanged between the supplier and the Memphis Bodies.” Previously in the letter, Rothrock explained that only the minutes of the Board Meeting pertaining to the purchase of the scenery were left and that all other correspondence had been “destroyed.” There was no note as to when, or how, the records were destroyed. Fire? So, between 1980 and today knowledge pertaining to the purchase of scenery from M. C. Lilley & Co. was replaced with the scenery being painted by local students.

At what point was the actual history lost? How does the delivery of scenery from a major scenic supplier become attributed to local students? If this major piece of information is wrong, what other aspects of Memphis’ Scottish Rite history have been forgotten?

My research suggests that Scottish Rite history in many Valleys began to disappear after WWII. It started with the elimination of paid Scottish Rite historians and archivists, as the jobs were no longer perceived as necessary or valuable. In addition to the elimination to many of the stewards of Scottish Rite history, the purchase of new acquisitions ceases. Simultaneously, the careful inventory of Masonic libraries and museums are suspended in many areas. Why?

Then consider that as Scottish Rite bodies begin to leave their historic building, the institutional knowledge is lost and discredited, sometimes actively erased. I wonder if the intentional burying of history and cultural significance of artifacts had anything to do with justifying the move? This is still happening across the country today as historic buildings are sold and the membership liquidates the contents of their buildings.

I repeatedly read about Valleys citing declining membership and funds as the sole reasons for the move. What is almost never addressed, however, are the intentions for the future, especially that of their material culture and artifacts. If there is no perceived value, legacy or history attached to the artifacts, it makes their abandonment easier.

It will be easy to walk away from a bunch of backings created by student and harder to walk away from large-scale artworks created by nationally recognized fine artists.

To be continued…

Part 717: Walter C. Hartson (1866-1946 )

In 1909, Thomas G. Moses wrote “Walter Hartson joined our force at 20^th Street in August and seemed to be satisfied with conditions.” That year same year, the “Chicago Tribune” reported, “Walter C. Hartson, of New York, N.Y., and Jane Mahon Stanley of Detroit, Mich,” exhibited some of their at the picture galleries of Marshall Field & Company in Chicago (29 March 1909, page 6). Hartson had sporadically worked for Moses over the years and the two remained friends for the decades to follow. In 1902, Hartson worked for Moses as part of the Moses & Hamilton staff in their annex studio at the 14^th Street Theatre in New York. While working for Moses that year, Hartson also won the Gold Medal of the American Art Society. Two years later he won the First Landscape Prize in the Osborne competition. By 1922, Moses would reflect, “I am drifting back to the days when some of the present day successful artists were working for me… As I look backward over the names of the successful ones, I wonder what I would have done had I been gifted with the same amount of talent.”

Hartson was born in Wyoming, Iowa, on Oct. 27, 1866. He attended the Art Institute in Chicago, Illinois, and then continued his artistic studies in Holland, Belgium, France and England. Of his fine art, the “Chicago Tribune” described Hartson’s paintings as being “light and lively in color and effect” (Chicago Tribune, 26 June 1898, Page 33). Hartson was a member of the Chicago Society of Artists, the Salmagundi Club of New York, the Kit Kat club of New York, the New York Water Color club, and the Allied Artists of Ameirca (Poughkeepsie Journal, 4 January 1946, page 8). By the age of twenty-nine, Hartson was winning awards for his work.

In 1895, Hartson won the bronze medal at the Atlanta Exposition. By 1898 Hartson received an award for his “Fields of September” at the seventy-third annual exhibition of the National Academy of Design (Chicago Tribune, 26 March, 1898, page 1); the Third Hallgarten Prize. By 1900, Hartson exhibited in a watercolor exhibition at the Chicago Art Institute. The Chicago “Inter Ocean” commented on two of Hartson’s paintings in 1898: “Of course, the best may not have been in sight, but some signed by Walter C. Hartson, arrested me. It is in tone and treatment much like a McIlhenny that stood not far away. Both these are in treatment between Corot and George Inness, Sr., although not so rich in color as the later. They lay in color, and then wash it down until everything is blurred, enveloped, atmospheric and gray. Still there is sufficient firmness and purpose, good modeling and no muddiness. Only an experienced painter can do this difficult thing.”

Three months later during June1895, Hartson was again noted in the “Chicago Tribune,” for two of his paintings: “Two cleverly painted water-colors of Dutch scenes by Walter C. Hartson, a former Chicago artist are shown at Thayer & Chandler’s. Both are light and lively in color and effect, and consequently more interesting than much of his more serious work, in which he inclined to blackness and heaviness” (June 26, 1898, page 33). It was is his ability to capture light and atmospheric effects that translated so well to Hartson’s stage work. He continued to gain ground in the field of American fine art and became associated with a new movement. It is a 1913 article that places Hartson within this context of a shifting aesthetic.

On April 1, 1913, “The Brooklyn Daily Eagle” reported,“The remarkable advance that has been made in American art within the last few years is almost incomprehensible to the average layman, and something of a surprise as well as gratification to the student and connoisseur. Appreciation has kept pace with development. A few weeks ago a George Inness brought $24,000 at public sale. A few years ago this would have seemed almost incredible. The fact is however, that the brush work of “our men of America” has reached a degree of excellence that places many of them on the same plane with leading artists abroad in artistic merit, and the time appears to be not far distant when they wil rival the modern European painter in price getting. A real comprehensive school of art is being developed here – a definite, distinctive, ambitiously independent class of work which breaking away from the traditions of old, has mingled the best thought of the Old World with the ideas of the New – bringing an atmosphere unmistakenly American. We are showing some of the better work of Walter C. Hartson to illustrate the young school as demonstrated by one of the men rapidly coming to the fore with his exquisite color work.”

Hartson was associated with fellow landscape artists G. Glen Newell, Harry Franklin Waltman, and Arthur J.E. Powell. All four men were born in small rural towns, but sought their art careers in nearby metropolitan areas. Hartson, Waltman, and Newell studied extensively in Europe and each independently found their way to the art scene of New York. All three were accepted to the Salmagundi Club. Moses had also joined the club under the sponsorship of R. M. Shurtless when he lived in New York from 1900-1904.

Newell, Waltman and Hartson left the city about the same time to seek solace in the Dover Plains, each establishing a studio in the picturesque region. Hartman relocated around 1917 and worked from his studio in Wassaic, New York, following Newell with Waltman who slightly proceeded him. Later, Powell joined the trio. It was the rolling hills of the Harlem Valley that kept the four men occupied (Poughkeepsie Journal, 21 June 1953, page 6A).The artists captured scenes of Dutchess County and painted the area with great affection. Each artist became a member of the Duchess County Art Association. In 1977, a third exhibit of the four artists’ works was exhibited at the Thomas Barrett House. The local newspaper included a lovely article about the exhibit entitled, “Once Important, They’re Forgotten.” The author of the article commented, “They were very integrated with their community…Their paintings still hang in the libraries, in school, the bank. You get a very definite sense of place with these paintings. It is definitely the Harlem Valley” (Poughkeepsie Journal, 25 Feb. 1977, page 3). The work of the four continues to be part of the community’s heritage elsewhere too, as they also painted murals in a number of local churches.

Although I have not tracked all three in terms of theatrical work yet, Powell painted a decorative panel for the first scenic artists ball held in Chicago in 1927.

Of Walter Hartson, he died in 1946 at the age of 79.

To be continued…

Part 716: Higgins and Puthuff

Victor Higgins, A.N.A. (1884-1949) and Hans Duvall Puthuff (1875-1972) created a unique work of art for Sosman & Landis shop foreman, Charles E. Boyer during the early twentieth century.

Thomas G. Moses mentioned Boyer’s departure from Sosman & Landis in 1909. Four years earlier, he mentioned Higgins’ first departure from the scenic studio. In 1905, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “Victor Higgins, one of our promising young men, quit to take up picture painting and started with a strong determination to win, and I think he will.” He did succeed, yet returned to paint theatrical scenery, time and time again. Moses records one of the returns in 1909.

Higgins, was a close friend of Thomas G. Moses, remaining close until Moses’ death in 1934. Higgins was born in Shelbyville, Indiana, leaving home and entering the Chicago Art Institute at the age of fifteen. It was during his time in Chicago that Higgins also began painting for the theatre. Higgins worked at Sosman & Landis alongside well-known artists such as Art Oberbeck, Fred Scott, Edgar Payne, Ansel Cook,Walter C. Hartson, William Nutzhorn, David Austin Strong, and Hans Puthuff. Higgins also worked for New York Studios, the eastern affiliate of Sosman & Landis. In New York, he painted with William Smart, Art Rider, and Al Dutheridge. While in New York, he also studied with Robert Henri, a leading figure of the Ashcan school of art before heading to Europe for further artistic instruction in Paris and Munich.

While traveling abroad, he sent Moses several postcards at the studio. By 1909, however, Higgins briefly returned to work for Sosman & Landis, decorating the interior for the American Music Hall in Chicago. In 1912 Higgins was still spending significant time in Chicago, Higgins exhibited artwork with the Palette & Chisel Club, earning national recognition and the Gold Medal in 1913. Other artistic awards received by Higgins included the Municipal Art League (1915), the Logan Medal of the Art Institute of Chicago (1917), and the first Altman prize for the National Academy of Design (1918). His work eventually became part of permanent collections of the Art Institute in Chicago, the Corcoran Gallery in Washington, D.C., and the Los Angeles museum.

I am intrigued that Higgins, after all his fine art studies with various masters in Chicago, New York, Paris and Munich returned to periodically paint at Sosman & Landis. It says a lot about the camaraderie, especially in light of his traveling to California with fellow scenic artist for a sketching trip and their gifting a painting to the shop foreman.

Hanson Duvall Puthuff, Higgins’ co-worker and traveling companion, is nationally recognized for his paintings of Southern California deserts. Puthuff was considered as a member of the eucalyptus school of California landscape painters. Puthuff was a co-founder of the California Art Club and the Laguna Beach Art Association. An interesting side note is that Moses also belonged to the Laguna Beach Art Association.

Puthuff was born to Alonzo Augustus Duvall and Mary Anne Lee in 1875.  At the age of only two years old, Puthuff’s birth mother died and he was passed into the care of a close family friend – Elizabeth Stadley Puthuff. Elizabeth was a seamstress and young Civil War widow who became surrogate to the young child. He remained in her care until 1889 when he moved to Chicago to study at the Art Institute of Chicago. While in the Midwest he worked in Peoria, Illinois, painting murals in the city hall and local churches, and later moving to Denver where he worked in a variety of capacities, including that of a sign painter. This trip west continued, and Puthuff was soon working in California periodically. His work in Los Angeles included a variety of projects, such as billboard painting for the Wilshire Advertising Firm. His later focus of artistic study became the La Crescenta area around his home, the Sierras, and Arizona. It is noted that Puthuff received his first solo exhibition in 1904, yet continued to return to the scenic studio and paint.

Puthuff won awards in 1909 from the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition, the same year that he worked with Higgins at Soman & Landis. He was also awarded a bronze medal at the Paris Salon in 1914. By 1915 he received two silver medals from the Panarama-California Exposition. Puthuffs works are now part of collections in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, Laguna Art Museum, Laguna Art Museum, and Bowers Museum, as well as being catalogued in the Smithsonian American Art inventory. In 1926, Puthuff devoted himself to easel art, dying in Corona del Mar on May 12, 1972.

There is something to be said about artists who willingly bridged the scenic art and fine art worlds, keeping one foot in each studio. Did both Higgins and Puthuff only return to the scenic studio for a paycheck, or was it something more? Possibly to share the camaraderie of his fellow artists, and working on a communal project. There is something to be said about collaboration and a combined group effort; the joking and laughter of working with and near your fellow artists. Fine art is fulfilling, but often a solitary endeavor. Painting alongside others is an entirely different experience. It is the chatter, as well as the sharing of your soul. Talking about families, or other issues at hand forms that common bond, and possibly life-long friendships.

It is that wonderful feeling of being a creator within a community, just like a musician who plays in a band or orchestra. As Moses suggests in his memoirs, it was always more than studio work – they were a family.

To be continued…

Part 715: Charles E. Boyer, Sosman & Landis Shop Foreman

In 1909, Thomas G. Moses wrote, “After twenty years of good service, Charles Boyer, our foreman, quit us. We all regretted his going. Watt Williams came into the studio and worked as my assistant. Pretty good, but very careless.”

Moses was referring to the loss of Charles E. Boyer (1865-1935).

I have uncovered little about Boyer, but his name popped up in an interesting article that touches on another aspect of scenic studio life – the scenic artists’ sketching trips. Previously I have explored the sketching trips taken by Moses and other Sosman & Landis artists to gather information for scenery compositions and improve their skill.

A sketching trip taken by two Sosman & Landis artists was recorded in an article published in the La Cross Sunday Tribune on September 23, 1956 (page 13). The article provided the artistic provenance for quite an interesting oil painting.

The picture was a wedding present, given the Rev. and Mrs. Gustave Edwin Anderson, of 902 Avon St., as a wedding gift in 1921. The painting was a composite that combined two oil paintings, given by the bride’s father, Charles E. Boyer, noted as the “foreman of a studio in Chicago.” For me, this verified that it was the same individual that Moses mentioned in his diary, especially since the artists were noted as working for “Sosman-Landis Studio.” Boyer had received it as a gift from two young artists, H. Putoff and Victor Higgins, whom he befriended. This would be Hans Duvall Puthoff and Victor Higgins, who would later each become week known as nationally acclaimed fine artists.

Here is the article:

“Rev. And Mrs. Anderson Own Unusual Painting

Young Artists Unaware They Painted Twins

Some paintings are more than works of art; they are stories told in oils. The story of such an oil painting dates back to approximately to the summer of 1913 when two young artists, H. Puthuff and Victor Higgins began their career at Sosman-Landis Scenic Studio in Chicago.

Vacation had come and the two boys went out to California to visit one of their mothers. On leaving Chicago they promised the foreman, Charles E. Boyer, that each one of them would bring back and oil painting for him. Their vacation was a series of busy, happy days of painting. Soon the last days came and will them the question of what painting they were going to give the boss.

The mother suggested the twin pictures, but said, “We have no twin pictures. We have always worked separately and never conferred about our work.”

“Oh yes you have, boys. I’ll pick them out first. She did. Unknowingly each of the boys had painted different halves of the same foothill with canyon and Point Loma near San Diego, in the background. When placed together the sky matched perfectly and so did the contours of the hills, canyon and wheat field, although the wind had blown the grain in different circles because the boys had painted different days. And a tree in the foreground, with its slight irregularities, show signs of two different artists. Together the oils make a perfect whole.

Both men regretted giving their halves, but finally conceded that giving it to the boss was the best solution.

Although the date of 1913 does not agree with Moses’ entry, Boyer and Higgins did work at Sosman & Landis in 1909, the same year as Boyer’s departure. Moses wrote, “In 1909, Victor Higgins also returned to work at Sosman & Landis, completing the interior of the American Music Hall.”

Boyer died at the age of seventy in Chicago. His last residence was at 3512 Le Moyne street and was survived by his wife Retta, son Clermont daughter, Mrs. Ruth Boyer Anderson, and three grandchildren (Chicago Tribune, 26 June 1935, page 23).

To be continued…

Part 714: The State of Scottish Rite Scenery at Sosman & Landis in 1909

I return to the entries in Thomas Moses’ typed manuscript during the 1909. Over the course of the past three-month, almost 100 posts, I have rambled down side roads that provided insight into historical scenic art, stage lighting, counterweight systems, and the evolution of Masonic scenery. For quite a while, I focused on theatre installations secured by E. A. Armstrong Manufacturing Co. of Chicago and M. C. Lilley & Co. of Columbus, and subcontracted to Sosman & Landis under the guidance of Bestor G. Brown. I am trying to tie up loose ends that uncover interesting historical tidbits that never quite made it into the theatre history textbooks.

Moses returns to the Sosman & Landis main studio at the beginning of 1909, as he had been traveling quite extensively throughout all of 1908, although one could say this has remained his standard mode of operation since starting with the company in 1880. Moses explained the cause for his return to the main studio instead of the annex studio, writing, “Sosman seemed to think I was needed there more than at 20^th Street. Pausback took charge of the 20^th Street studio.”

Business was booming, and Sosman & Landis increased their forces. Of staffing at the two studios, Moses wrote, “We have quite a force now at Clinton Street. We have forty-eight on the payroll, which includes the sewing girls and foremen. At 20^th Street we have an average of twelve. I think we should turn out some work and we do. It is often a puzzle to me where it all goes, but the Masonic work requires a lot of time, and there is an average of eighty drops in each order so it makes plenty of work and is very interesting. The artists never grumble when they get it to do.”

Up to 1909, Sosman & Landis had delivered at least twenty-six Scottish Rite collections. In some cases more than one collection was delivered to the same location in less than a decade. The ones that I have verified include:

Chicago, Illinois (first, second and third installations)

Little Rock, Arkansas (first, second and third installations)

Oakland, California

Wichita, Kansas (first and second installations)

Guthrie, Oklahoma

Fargo, North Dakota

Salina, Kansas (first and second installations)

McAlester, Oklahoma (first and second installations)

Portland, Oregon

Duluth, Minnesota

Fort Scott, Kansas

Topeka, Kansas

Detroit. Michigan

San Francisco, California (first and second installations)

Fort Wayne, Indiana

Salt Lake City, Utah

Dubuque, Iowa

Yankton, South Dakota

Clarksburg, West Virginia

Wheeling, West Virginia

 

In 1909, I have verified that Sosman & Landis produced five Scottish Rite scenery collections: Dallas, TX, San Francisco, CA (second collection), Cleveland, OH, Kanas City, MO, Atlanta, GA, and Winona, MN. Even using Moses’ 1909 formula that Masonic installations averaged 80 drops per order, this would be 400 Masonic drops over the course of 365 days, not including the flats and other properties that would accompany the scenery collections.

According to scenic artist John Hanny who began with the studio in 1906, Masonic work only made up 24-30% of the studio’s entire output. This was also during the same time that Sosman & Landis had started creating scenery for the Ringling Brothers’ grand spectacles too.

We can therefore conservatively estimate that Sosman & Landis artists produced approximately 1200 drops during 1909. The output could have been more, but this likely means that the studio was producing approximately four drops every day of the week. Fortunately, they had a staff of forty-eight on payroll in the main studio and twelve in the annex to help with demand.

 

To be continued…

The following is the third 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 the final of three posts:

“When a manager, sometimes with help from the author, has roughly indicated the kind of scene he requires, the scene- painter makes a sketch, and if that is approved he proceeds to construct of cardboard a complete model, on a scale, say, of half an inch to the foot. It is here that the resourcefulness and inventiveness of the scene-painter are able to make themselves felt. The model shows every thing, down to the smallest detail — not only the landscape, but door and windows, those which have to open in the actual scene being made ” practicable ” in the model.

“Wings “and “top-cloths” [borders] are also shown, and even the pulley and ropes which will be used in the adjustment of the scene are indicated. This part of the work, as may be supposed, calls for abundant patience, but its importance is manifest, and no scene-painter begrudges the time he has to spend upon his model, even when he knows that he will have to toil early and late to get the work finished by the stipulated time.

The model, when at last it is completed, is submitted to the manager’s consideration. It may be that he or the author desires some alteration, generally an in considerable one. When the modification has been made, the model is handed over to the master carpenter, who constructs the framework which is to receive the canvas. Having been affixed to the frame, the canvas is prepared by the painter’s labourers, whose business also it is to mix the colours. These are ground in water, by means of such a machine as is figured in one of our illustrations. Now the artist draws the design in chalk or char coal, and then the colours are filled in, always, as I have said, with due regard to the artificial conditions under which the picture has to be viewed, certain colours, therefore, which appear very differently in artificial light as compared with natural light, being avoided al together, or modified, as the case may be.

That scene-painting, like most other modes of earning one’s daily bread, is not without drawbacks, I am not prepared to assert. Strange indeed would it be if this were not so. The work, as the reader will know for himself, has a plentiful lack of regularity, and while both master painters and assistants often have to toil under heavy pressure to get their scenes ready by the eventful night, the assistants, at any rate, sometimes have periods of enforced leisure.

The attractions of the vocation, however, to those to whom the work itself is congenial, far outweigh this disadvantage. If the practitioner of the art is clever and resourceful, if he can not only wield the brush swiftly and deftly, but is also facile in inventing a scene from the manager’s brief hints, which is a much rarer gift, he in no long time may rise to distinction, besides being liberally rewarded in a pecuniary sense for his industry and skill”.

To be continued…

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…

 

 

Part 711: The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting, 1902 

The following is the first 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” during 1902. Here is part one of three posts:

“SCENE -PAINTING is, of course, an art as well as an avocation. The scene – painter, it is true, can aim only at broad effects; delicacy and subtlety he must not attempt. And to the conventions of the ordinary painter he has to add others arising out of the circumstance that his work has to be viewed from a distance, not only in artificial light, but often in artificial light that is tinted. This, however, does not make his work less an art; it is one difficulty the more to over come; and the best scene-painter, other things being equal, is the one who most successfully adapts his art to all the manager’s exacting requirements.

In these pages, however, it is with scene- painting as an avocation rather than as an art that we are primarily concerned. That those who rise to distinction in the profession are not unhandsomely remunerated for their skill and pains may be taken for granted. In these days so much depends upon the ” mounting ” of a piece — audiences have, as a result of long indulgence, come to expect so much in the way of scenic beauty — that it would be strange indeed if the men whose function it is to supply the demand had to complain of inadequate recompense in current coin. Nor does the work fail to bring some measure of glory to those who are mainly responsible for it.

Such names as Hawes Craven, Joseph Harker, Bruce Smith. VV. Telbin, R. Caney, W. Harford, Henry Emden, W. T. Hemsley, T. E. Ryan, and Walter Johnston are almost household words among that largest of all “the classes” who frequent the theatres. A fleeting kind of fame, no doubt. But so also is that of the actor. The greatest of those who tread the boards and nightly move multitudes to ecstasy have no sooner quitted the scenes of their triumphs than they begin to fade into abstractions, and if they remain anything more than mere names it is at least as much because, like David Garrick, they were personalities as on account of their histrionic genius.

Although some of the big cities of the provinces, such as Liverpool, Manchester, and Birmingham, have their own scene painters, the great centre of the profession is London ; and it is the scene-painters of the metropolis who for the most part furnish forth the scenery for those touring companies that carry successful plays into the country. Yet even in London— and even though during the last few years theatres have been springing up all over the town — the number of scene-painters is not considerable. Painters and assistants together do not, probably, number more than about a hundred. To these must be added the articled pupils; and although many of these have acquired a consider able degree of proficiency, one still marvels how so small a body of men contrives to get through such an enormous mass of work.

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 many of these have acquired a consider able degree of proficiency, one still marvels how so small a body of men contrives to get through such an enormous mass of work.

To be continued…

Part 710: Scenic Art Training

Over a year ago, I was contacted by a fellow scenic artist in the UK. She was searching for information about instructional guides that described the painting process in the 19^th century. It is fun to converse with and assist a fellow scenic artist who is also focusing on the history of scenic art. While keeping an eye open over the past year, I stumbled across “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting” in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries,” published in 1902. One particular sentence that caught my eye as I started to read the article: “In these pages, however, it is with scene- painting as an avocation rather than as an art that we are primarily concerned.” This is a loaded statement that signified a shift in the scenic art profession, and one that should be considered today.

Before I post this article in its entirety (over the course of the next few days due to length) there is something to consider about our theatrical past, our future and the training of scenic artists. I say this from the perspective of one who has been criticized for not sharing enough about my personal scenic art and restoration techniques.

I’ll start with the historical context of sharing scenic art techniques with fellow scenic artists, or the general public. During the 19^th century, the mystery of scenic art was unveiled in multiple publications. This continued into the twentieth century, although the process somewhat shifted to stress a simple avocation. During this time, the roll of the scenic artist as “genius,” “visionary,” and “master artist” starts to disappear. The scenic artist becomes the mere translator of a scenic designer’s vision. For stage scenery, another concept enters the public perception of scenic art, and that is the idea that “anyone can paint.”

All the while, numerous instructional pamphlets and publications began to appear, most accentuating that scene painting is more of an avocation than an art form, and it can easily be studied and mastered. These publications promote that a book can adequately instruct any student, or interested individual, to paint theatre scenery. Even the title of the 1902 article attempts to convey the “mystery” of the scenic art avocation. This was part of a growing trend where 19^th century scenic art techniques and stage effects are shared with the general pubic for enjoyment and reference. Innovative and intriguing mechanical effects even appeared in “Scientific American” as popular topics. In some ways, this was the equivalent of a magician revealing its secret to the crowd, as inquiring minds wanted to know. Another fascinating publication was “Magic Stage Illusions and Scientific Diversions Including Trick Photography,” compiled and edited by Albert A. Hopkins in 1897. This is all part of a growing trend that intensified by the early twentieth century.

Meanwhile, between approximately 1850 and 1950, the perception of the art aspect to scenic art, becomes promoted as a craft. The scenic studios systematically cranking out scenery greatly contributed to this perception. The painting techniques and overall stage aesthetic of painted illusion also began to shift at this time. It is pretty easy to identify when examining backdrops over the course of several decades when they were painted; an artistry began to gradually fade, and is replaced with a more systematic and formulaic approach that has continued to this day. This does not mean that the skill wasn’t present in artists, but the paint application and actual training started to follow a different course. There is also the interesting introduction of the perception that a scenic artist’s job could be successfully completed by any well-intentioned and slightly skilled individual. In other words, with just a little time and some guidance, they could successfully paint stage scenery. In a similar vein, think about the manufacture of cars; a lot of companies make cars, but they are not all equal, ranging from $12,000 to $750,000. The all have four tires and a steering wheel, but there is a difference in quality, even when the basic function is the same.

Then we consider the actual training of scenic artists, as it began to shift from studio to school. I remain on the fence about scenic art being taught at a University versus in a paint studio. I am of a generation who received scenic art instruction at University and benefited from a liberal arts approach. Exploring scenic art techniques was placed within the wonderful context of supplemental knowledge discovered in humanities and art history classes. But I did not learn scenic art in a studio, where I lived and breathed it six days a week for six decades.

The entire American stage aesthetic also shifted during this same period, 1900-1930. This era included an increased appearance of draperies for settings instead of strict painted illusion. The decorative nature of popular art began to permeate the stage and the rise of scenic designer increased, delegating the scenic artist to become a translator for their vision. The dominance of the Düsseldorf and Hudson River Valley schools’ romanticism was somewhat replaced with stencils and paint-by-number on a variety of fabrics, including silks and plush velvet. However, for standard high school, community, ethnic hall or other productions, instructional manuals helped and encouraged amateur artists paint the necessary stage scenes. We can be thrilled that art permeated all aspects of our culture, but it also redefined the field scenic art.

Only so much scenic art instruction can be passed along in a book or online, even with a lovely YouTube video. This is a profession that requires hands-on instruction and mentorship, as well as intensive study and years of practice. In the end, not all scenic artists are equal. Now, this is my belief, and I have certainly been read the riot act about this stance, yet I cannot think of any profession where all individuals are equal, just look at the medical profession. If all scenic artists were the same, we would all charge the same rate and everything would look the same; there would be no need for unions or people receiving any higher rate than another..

While working with Vern Sutton at Opera in the Ozarks one summer, I heard him say something pretty profound to a group of young opera singers; his message could really apply to all artists. He was explaining how very few world class singers were out there. Unless he had specifically told an individual that they were world class, they weren’t; “you will recognize a world class voice instantly.” That same summer, I heard my first world-class voice and it was unmistakable, no question; there was only the one in the dozens of performers that year. The same can be said for scenic art. There are some who rise to top of their profession, whether as a rocket or bubble of air seeking the surface. Many scenic artists spend an increadible amount of money and time perfecting their techniques and knowledge of the industry.

Understandably, these journeymen scenic artists are hesitant to give their “secrets” all away, unless they are in a secure position. This is not a new stance, as I have repeatedly encountered this topic in scenic artists’ memoirs and newspaper articles throughout the nineteenth and twentieth century. Think of the entire point of guilds protecting trade secrets. I think of the newspapers that heralded a handful of scenic artists when there were hundreds painting during the 1890s. These were exceptionally skilled individuals. Only a few rose to the top of their profession, and they did not give free or reduced-rate workshops for aspiring artists. They may have painted alongside apprentices in fine art studios, or at the paint frame, but there was a hierarchy in the industry based on skill and experience.

When you have a formula, or trade secret that works really well for you – one that took years to understand or develop – would you share it with a direct competitor? Would you share a formula, or trade secret, with a fellow scenic artist in another region or country that did not directly compete with you? Would you share your research with the world before publishing? Knowing the time and expense that you invested in training and experience, would you share a recipe or technique with someone who is just starting out? I was once told, if you give something away, it can devalue what you are actually offering. In context, please consider, that I have likely done more pro bono work over the course of my career than actual paid work. I frequently give away much of my research and what I know, but I am not putting a restoration or painting recipe on a card, as it devalues what I have to offer as a professional and what I have worked so hard to accomplish.

Here is another consideration: If you are a teacher with health insurance, benefits and a retirement plan, it is part of your job to share your recipes and train your students. If you are a freelance artist and have struggled to do it all on your own, is it not your job to share and train. If you have a secure and full-time position in a paint studio, this is very different than an itinerant artist who never knows where their next project will take them. Skilled students directly benefit, and reflect positively on a university instructor or full-time charge artist in a shop; they are a direct credit to their mentor’s skill and leadership. This is not the case for the experienced freelance artist or any independent contractor. I can think of no other profession that expects professionals to share all of their knowledge with someone who is just starting out, unless they are grooming them to be a replacement at the end of a career. Enough of the diatribe, I welcome feedback and criticism of my thoughts.

To be continued…

 

 

Part 709: “Installation Shall be Under the Direction of Bestor G. Brown”

By 1910, the process of manufacturing and installing Scottish Rite scenery collections operated by Brown’s special system was running like a well-oiled machine. M. C. Lilley & Co. landed the work and subcontracted the scenery, stage machinery and lighting portion to Sosman & Landis. M. C. Lilley & Co. provided the costumes, regalia and other necessary paraphernalia.

Up to this point, I have discussed the scenery produced for Little Rock, Oakland, Wichita, Guthrie, Fargo, Salina, Portland and others at the turn of the twentieth century. Let’s jump ahead a decade at the peak production of Scottish Rite scenery in the Sosman & Landis studio, 1909-1910. During that two-year period, Sosman & Landis produced scenery and stage machinery for Kansas City, Kansas; Winona, Minnesota; Dallas, Texas; Atlanta, Georgia; Memphis, Tennessee; Guthrie, Oklahoma (second installation); St. Paul, Minnesota; Denver, Co; and Indianapolis, Indiana. Keep in mind that at this time the studio also refurbished the Wichita scenery from 1898 and delivered it to Yankton, South Dakota. There are other collections from this period that remain unidentified at this time.

I have also looked in detail at the promotion of Brown’s special system, a method of counterweighting the scenery, that was marketed by well known Mason, Bestor G. Brown. For Masonic context, Brown was a Past Grand Mater of the Grand Lodge of Kansas (1903) and a member of numerous Masonic orders, including the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry in both the Northern and Southern Jurisdiction. Brown also belonged to the Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias and Improved Order of Redmen. His profession was that of western sales manager for M. C. Lilley & Co., a supplier of fraternal, military and band goods. He was also considered the only Masonic Stage carpenter in the United States.

There is an interesting section in the 1910 contract between M. C. Lilley & Co., represented by Brown, and the Guthrie Scottish Rite:

“The installation shall be under the direction of Bestor G. Brown who will take charge of and handle the stage during the first reunion, without compensation or expense of any kind, provided of course, sickness or other preventing circumstances shall not operate and abridgement of any in terms of this contract or the pecuniary liability expressed therein.”

This is big, and I doubt that this is an unusual occurrence. It also explains why Brown was considered the Masonic stage carpenter, ruler of the realm behind the footlights. This single sentence in the contract places Brown on site during the first Scottish Rite Reunion that uses the new stage machinery and scenery. It means that at the completion of each Scottish Rite project there is an individual on site to supervise the initial operation of the system, keeping an eye on Masonic stagehands that are unfamiliar with the backstage aspects of a theatrical production.

There are two significant things to consider:

First of all, after most Sosman & Landis theater installations, the company representative superintending the site work remained on site as the theater opened, or at least operated the system to familiarize the client with the new products. In fact, Sosman & Landis had several employees who traveled from location, to location, installing scenery and stage machinery. The supervisor of each installation worked with a crew of carpenters and then operated the system for the client upon completion. Often after an installation – the superintendent of the work would show how everything worked upon completion. In 1887, newspapers reported that Sosman & Landis would, “complete everything, ready for the rise of the curtain, and will run the stage for the first performance.”

We also know that certain that at least one Sosman & Landis stage carpenter traveled without drawings. In the case of Charles S. King and the Crump Theatre project during the late nineteenth century, he was the only individual who was personally held the knowledge pertaining to the carpentry work and installation of the stage machinery and scenery. to install the stage systems. This was a smart move and may have prevented information from being shared with Sosman & Landis’ competitors, keeping new innovations safeguarded, just as guilds protected trade secrets. The knowledge of a new method for installing counterweight systems placed Sosman & Landis ahead of their competitors to deliver more scenery, as Brown’s special system placed the rigging lines close together.

As the scenery and stage machinery were subcontracted Sosman & Landis, it also makes sense that Brown would be on site, representing M. C. Lilley & Co. and directly communicating with the client. After all, the one installing the scenery may not be a Mason or hold that necessary “charm” when the client became a challenge. Also, keep in mind that it was M. C. Lilley & Co. who directly contracted the entire theatre portion of the project with each Scottish Rite.

The second article of note in this clause is that Brown would “take charge of and handle the stage during the first reunion.” He had to, especially if the Sosman & Landis stage carpenter was not a Mason. Fortunately for M. C. Lilley & Co. Brown was a Scottish Rite member in the Northern and Southern Jurisdiction, as well as a fraternal salesman. An active Scottish Rite Mason had to be the onsite eyes during that first reunion; and that was Brown, ensuring that everything operated as promised.

To be continued…