Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 1087 – Henry C. Tryon, “Scene-Painting, Some hints to the Public Regarding a Special Department of the Painters’ Art Not Well Understood,” 1880

Copyright © 2020 by Wendy Waszut-Barrett

Yesterday I resumed “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar” after a short break. Although I returned to the year 1921, an 1884 article prompted me to revisit a friend and colleague of Thomas G. Moses – Henry C. Tryon. This is just one example of the many rabbit holes I get sucked into while doing research. But I have no deadline and can enjoy these sidetracks.

Moses first worked with Tryon at Sosman & Landis in 1884, writing “Henry C. Tryon came to the studio to work.  He enthused Young and I more than anyone ever had.  He was a pupil of Thos. Moran and James and William Hart and was very clever, but awfully eccentric.” In 1884, Tryon left two scenic art positions; one as scenic artist at the Tabor Grand Opera House in Denver, Colorado, and the other as scenic artist for the Salt Lake Theatre in Utah. He returned to Chicago, joining the Sosman & Landis staff for a year.

Now I am in the midst of writing historical analyses, conditions reports, replacement appraisals and collections care programs for the historic scenery collections at the Tabor Opera House in Leadville, Colorado. Some of the scenery is signed and dated, including jungle wings painted by Henry E. Burckey in 1890. Burckey and Tryon partnered in the early 1880s and then both worked at the Tabor Grand in Denver.  Burckey was still working at both the Tabor Opera House in Leadville and the Tabor Grand Opera House in Denver in 1890. You can find more information about Burckey at www.drypigment.net (keyword search “Tabor Opera House” or “Burckey”).

So, I am killing two birds with one stone this week, but there are lots of moving parts. While researching Burckey and Tryon for the Tabor project, I came across a series of article written by Tryon in the 1880s. He describes the scene painting profession, and I am compelled to share them as part of the “Tales of a Scenic Artist and Scholar” storyline.

Here is the first one published in the “Chicago Tribune” on December 19, 1880:

SCENE PAINTING.

Some hints to the Public Regarding a Special Department of the Painters’ Art Not Well Understood.

Chicago, Dec.8.-

Theatrical scenery is painted in “distemper,” dry color being mixed with a vehicle consisting of glue and water, much the same as is used with whiting for calcimining rooms. Stage scenery and drop-curtains are never painted in oil colors. While the color is less brilliant than when mixed with oils (the artist being compelled to get his brilliancy by skillful arrangement of dull color), the glare of varnish and oil is avoided which would destroy the realism of the scene. Scenery, then, being painted in watercolors, the danger from fire is much less than popularly supposed; in fact, when it does take fire it burns very slowly for a long time. The canvas is much less combustible than before being painted. Scenes painted on both sides are almost fireproof.

The qualities required of a first-class scenic-artist are of a much higher order than is generally supposed, and the technical difficulties to be overcome to produce any brilliant effect whatever for the stage are so numerous that, with a thorough knowledge of drawing, color, and composition, and the clearest possible idea on the part of the artist of what he desires to do, he will fail utterly, without great practice, to convey to the audience the effect that he may have already, in his brain, arranged in the clearest and most tangible shape. The artist in oil colors can produce any effect which his mind conceives. The scenic-artist must first overcome many very difficult obstacles. One of the chief difficulties arises from the fact that the colors dry out several shades lighter that they are when applied. (Throw a little water on the floor and the difference in color will illustrate this difficulty). The artist is compelled to paint with one color while thinking of another. He must think with every brush mark how the colors will “dry put.” The difficulty in doing this can be imagined when it is considered that all exterior scenes are painted from a pallet making a constant change of thousands of different tints. Then the effect of a night light is a serious drawback. Whoever has observed the changes in the colors of fabrics from the light of day to the artificial light of gas must have noticed how some colors are heightened and others dimmed by being brought under the yellow gaslight.

The scene-painter working in the broad glare of day must consider with every brush mark the effect of this gaslight on his color. A brilliant effect by daylight may, under an artificial light, be entirely destroyed, and also the reverse holds true; but must not be accident with the scenic-artist.

Do the audience in the theatre ever realize the immense difficulty of painting a scene while within three or at most four feet from the canvas, to produce the proper effect at a distance of from fifty to 150 feet, the artist being compelled to see his work in his mind’s eye this distance, when his first opportunity to dee his entire work is after it has been finished and on stage? The result of constant practice in this direction is, that, as he acquires knowledge, and consequently power and decision, he gradually choses larger brushes, until the skillful artist is enabled with the roughest and apparently most hideous “swashes” of the calcimining brush to produce effect as soft, tender, and full of appropriate  meaning as is done by the most labored, painstaking care on smaller surfaces by many landscape painters. In scene-painting, as in all other art, it is only the novice who takes the life out of his work by petty, contemptible smoothing down with small brushes. “Pictures are made to be seen, not smelled,” said Reynolds. In decorative painting mechanical finish is the important requisite, but in scene-painting it is no more an excellence than is mechanical finish in any other art.

The popular impression is that because scenes are thus painted with broad, bold, rough marks it is scarcely more than a grade or so advanced beyond mere decorative painting; but think for a moment of the knowledge of drawing, perspective, composition, and color required to enable the artist to produce on these large surfaces a scene which to the audience must be realism, when he can only see at any time a limited portion (say ten feet square) of his work – on a “drop” say thirty feet by fifty – while working within three feet of his canvas, and to be seen across a large theatre, The fact is, that a scenic artist is able to paint a small picture with much greater ease and readiness that he can with his theatrical work, because he has the knowledge to paint the small subject without very great obstacles attending his work on the large canvas.

Another thing to be considered in this connection: The scenic-artist does not always – in fact, seldom- have the leisure to do work at his best. He has neither the time nor opportunity to correct his work. When a picture is finished in an artist’s studio the artist sees where a change here and there will enhance the value of his work, and can perfect it. The scene-painter must call his work “a go” and start on the next scene. “We press your hat while you wait,” is the sentiment. The manager comes to the artist, and says we want a street – Paris, 1600 – to-night. He must have it then, though the heavens fall. “Time, tide, and managers wait for no man.” Many times in the experiences of all scenic-painters are they obliged to work thirty-six hours at a stretch,, their meals brought to them, and stopping for nothing else, each of those hours working against time, with no sentiment other than to get through, get out of the theatre and to the rest that exhausted nature loudly demands. Still he must be criticized on this very work. The audience doesn’t know anything about his having worked all day, and all night, and all day.

The great scenic-artists of the world are great artists, and so recognized in the world of art. Poor dead Minard Lewis was the very Prince of scenic artists, and his genius was the wonder and admiration of every artist of every department of art in New York. Yet the theatre-going public who for thirty or forty years had admired and applauded his beautiful work did not know or care to know his name.

The position of scenic-artist in a first-class theatre is one of great responsibility, which is properly recognized “behind the curtain line,” but the general public has no interest in the personality of the scenic artist, supposing in a vague sort of way that the manager paints the scenes. It is no unusual thing for scenery to be lavishly commended by the press and public, the manager receiving the press and praise for his “enterprise, taste and liberality,” while the artist whose brain and hand has created it all is never mentioned or even thought of. Scene-painters, like all other artists, have their ambitions, and are grateful for proper and honest appreciation. Much injustice has been done to them (perhaps through thoughtlessness) by the public press and this is strongly felt by every scenic-artist. If the newspaper dramatic critics would take the same interest in the scene-painters themselves that they do with other individual members of the theatrical business and that they do with other artists, and would find out under what adverse circumstances they generally labor, their sense of justice would cause them to be more discrimination in their reports. If a theatre during an extended period is uniformly negligent in the matter of scenic accessories, it would be but simple justice for the public critics to inquire whether it is due to the incompetency of the scenic-artist or to the economy of the manager. The truth in this matter can always be easily discovered, and when blame is laid, as it frequently is, it should not be done in loose and indiscriminate manner which injures most the artist who is frequently not to blame. If the dramatic critics would visit and become acquainted with the scenic-artists they would be welcomed, and would perhaps gain in the interest of dramatic art and progress some ideas from that unknown and unthought of portion of the theatre 9the paint gallery) that would be a revelation to them. The sooner the press and public recognize the scene-painters as artists and deal with them individually as with other artists – commending or condemn them on their own merits, – the better it will be for the elevation of scenic art.

            -Henry C. Tryon

To be continued…