Copyright © 2024 by Wendy Waszut-Barrett
My week at the Tyne Theatre & Opera House in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, England, culminated with a conference on Friday, August 2, 2024. “Theatrical Scene Painting in the 19th Century: The Artist and the Picture Frame” was the second theatre conference held at the venue.
The first conference occurred less than a year before (Sept. 13-15, 2023), with 120 delegates attending from the UK, Europe, Canada, and the United States.
Both events were organized by David Wilmore of Theatresearch and Rachel Snape, Heritage & Development Project Manager at the Tyne Theatre & Opera House. This year, the entire conference took place upon the stage, with delegates facing the auditorium. An Act Drop was hung (in reverse, facing the upstage wall), to set the stage for the delegates. The painting was from the brush of Deborah Mitchell in 1997, replicating an earlier curtain painted by Ernest Howard for the Royal Theatre Opera House, Northampton, 1896.
The morning panel featured three papers.
Raymond Walker (left) explored the visual aspects of Victorian scenery and how it evolved during the 20th century. Dr. David Wilmore (center) explored the original portraits for Gilbert & Sullivan’s “Ruddygore”, now on display at a private theatre (Normansfield). Karen Thompson (right) examined the Normansfield Scenery Collection and its conservation.
After lunch we were invited back to the stage for a stage machinery demonstration. The sloats in the stage cuts supported three of the eight ground rows I painted for the venue. The previous evening David Wilmore and Colin Hopkins (Project Site Manager & Stage Carpenter) led a crew to install the ground rows.
The afternoon panel in my presentation, “Scenic Art, Past & Present”, Grit Eckert’s presentation “We are still here!!! Scene Painting – a Historical Study and still a Theatrical Trade”, and Prof. Christina Young’s “19th Century Scottish Scenic Painters: Paint Frame to Picture Frame”.
As promised to those who could not attend the conference, here is my Powerpoint with text:
My name is Wendy Waszut-Barrett and I come to you as a theatre historian, scenery preservation specialist, scenic designer, and – most importantly – scenic artist. My presentation will look in detail at the paint medium used by 19th century scenic artists and its capabilities. Then I will explain how I became so passionate about the history of scenic art and how both past and present research has altered my understanding of theatre history.
Each aspect of my career creates a lens through which I view theatre history. For me, the phrase, “Preserving the Past” goes far beyond the conservation of historic artifacts; it also applies to the preserving the theatrical trades.
Although many scene painting techniques remain well-documented in various publications and memoirs, much has been lost from contemporary application – more specifically, the institutional memory in most scenic studios. I am going to shed some light on nineteenth-century scene painting practices. Understanding the nuances of the distemper painting system helps us appreciate the metamorphic nature of stage settings created by 19th- and early-20th-century scenic artists.
Distemper paint solely consists of two ingredients: color (dry pigment paste) and binder (cooked and diluted hide glue). It really is an amazing artistic medium. In dry form, both pigment and glue can be stored for decades, weathering a wide range of temperatures. There is also no waste during the painting process, as dried piles of pigment paste on a can be quickly reconstituted with water.”
In 1903, American scenic artist, Grace Wishaar (pictured on the left) explained “Distemper is a really beautiful medium. You can produce such fine effects with it! But it’s very tricky unless you know JUST how to handle it.”
Over a decade later, her colleague Frank Atkinson wrote the following statement about distemper paint in his scene painting manual “.. distemper colors change greatly in value as they dry out…the student must not let a few failures discourage him. True ‘color deductions’ will come with experience.”
In 1924, Joseph Harker described distemper paint in his publication “Studio and Stage” as ”a peculiarly difficult medium to handle” explaining “In some instances the color, when applied, dries several degrees lighter in tone than it was originally, while in others remains unaltered. Considerable skill, if I may put is so baldly, is therefore needed in the direct painting with this medium and no fixed rules can be laid down for overcoming the characteristics I have mentioned. Long and pain staking experience is alone capable of solving each fresh color problem as it arises.” For over 35 years, I have been challenged with each distemper painting project. That being said, there is no other paint I would rather use for stage settings.
Every time I pick up a brush and paint a backdrop, I become part of the scenic art timeline, continuing the legacy of those who came before me. I still prefer painting stage scenery with distemper paint. Nothing feels quite so pure to handle, or reflects stage lights quite so well.
Let’s look at how the paint was prepared. Pigment arrived at the scenic studio in three forms – dry powder, compressed block, or wet pulp. Blocks of dry color necessitated grinding prior to their transformation into a paste.
Pigment paste was placed on a scenic artists palette and mixed with diluted hide glue, also called “size water” or “working size” or just size – hence some artists referring to this as “size painting.” Both color and binder necessitated careful preparation, the tasks completed by skilled individuals. In larger studios, “Color men” supervised preparation and distribution of colors, as ill-prepared pigment paste (pigment granules that weren’t fully dissolved) could compromise an entire composition.”
Making size from hide glue was also a skilled task, each batch affected by heat and humidity. Water is added to dry hide-glue granules, or a slab, and slowly-cooked to a honey-like consistency, then diluted with water.
Here is an example of a scenic artist’s palette, filled with bowls of pigment paste, and a size warmer below. The pigment paste and size water were mixed together on the large palette, then immediately applied to the fabric. The preparation of pigment paste, cooking of size, and set-up of a palette takes time. However, the actual distemper painting process makes up for any lost time in the set-up.
As presented in my paper last year, there were two prominent scenic art traditions at play in 19th century; each defined by the viscosity (or thickness) of paint and its application. There was the use of transparent glazes (depicted in the left images) and opaque washes (depicted in the right).
Distemper was applied to scenery in two ways – “up” on a vertical frame or “down” on the floor. Both versions were transported to the United States, and referred to as “English” method (for up) and the “Continental” method (for down). Painting a drop that was tacked to the floor require long handles, or bamboo poles that extended the handle of a brush. Tacking backdrops to vertical frames often meant that either the frame or bridge upon which the artist stood on was movable.
Where do I fall within the framework of scenic art history? I am a hybrid. I was trained in the Midwestern United States using distemper paints (in the form of opaque washes) on a motorized frame at University. However, as a freelance scenic artist, pre-mixed paints and the continental method (floor) were preferred.
This is the motorized paint frame that I use in the States. My past eight shows have featured distemper settings.
Distemper paint and vertical paint frames were made for each other. As distemper paint permeates each underlying layer, drips are not an issue, even when the viscosity looks like milk. Distemper paint permeated the underlying layer, so even a drip will soon reabsorb into the fabric. Some contemporary (pre-mixed) color may reactivate, but not to the same extent as distemper paint – there is more of a layering effect which will cause pre-mixed paints to run.
From a paint process standpoint, a motorized paint frame allows the artists to quickly and accurately lay in vertical lines without a straightedge. It is an extremely quick way to paint lines.
Which means that painting vertical drapery folds is extremely effective, as you can play with the viscosity of paint for translucent effects.
Here is a view from the back of the frame, to show how thinly the paint is applied to the muslin.
Backlit with a simple white light, muslin painted with distemper can take on the appearance of glowing silk.
Here are three of the distemper palettes that I use while painting scenery, all ranging in size for the scale of the project. I have tweaked the traditional methods to use large baking pans – easier clean-up.
Regardless of what type of paint is used for stage settings, scenic art is more. It is a way of seeing and applying color.
That being said, distemper paint is the easiest was to teach color theory and scenic illusion for the stage.
The success of scenic illusion for the stage is understanding the nuance of each color, strategic color combinations, and economy of brush stroke.
I want to get us all on the same page in terms of color, as painted illusion necessitates the alternation of warm and cool colors. The three primary colors are yellow, red, and blue. Each primary and secondary color also has a characteristic – warm or cool.
The easiest example to see warm versus cool is yellow. I don’t want to get caught up in any specific color name – as they are dependent on suppliers. On the left is a warm yellow, and on the right is a cool yellow.
Of supreme importance in painting is the true understanding of value – going from light to dark. The success of painted illusion is based on the contrast of value
Scenic artists paint for a distance. This means that their artwork is intended to be viewed from afar – any careful blending will make a painted composition appear “fuzzy” from a distance. That is why a scenic artist contracts both value and hue. The audience’s eye needs to work, so the scene will appear more dimensional and realistic. When you examine the painting close-up, it all falls apart into dashes and dabs – an economy of brushstroke.
There is a rule of three for value selection – light, medium and dark, to work up any object. This contrast applies to foliage, architecture, drapery painting, etc. making the painted details remain visible at a distance.
Light, medium and dark values also alternate warm and cool colors. For example, the dark base is predominantly cool, the mid-tone warm, and the highlight cool.
Even when applying the same value, some compositions – such as foliage- with place warm and cool colors next to one another. This helps give definition to the shape. This strategic color placement helps reflect stage light and accentuate painted details, providing dimensions.
Here is a drapery example (on your left) of over blending, painting that shows a lack of contrast in both value and color. It can make the subject look fuzzy from a distance. The drapery painting on the right shows the contrast of value and color; draperies that will have definition when viewed from a distance.
And if we take color out of the composition, we can still see the difference and need for contrast with value for an object to remain visible from afar.
Many 19th-century, and early-20th-century, scenic artists were visionaries, They fully understood how painted illusion was supported with stage machinery and lighting. Pause – Scenic art is an interactive art form, partnering with various stage lighting systems.
Scenic artists understood the characteristics of various lighting systems, adjusting the color and value accordingly. Here is an example of scenery produced for electric light – blue, red and white, a popular combination from the 1890s to 1920s.
This all goes back to the color selection and application of distemper paint. The use of a warm and cool consistently creates a color that will reflect stage lights. Strategic color combinations increase the opportunities to reflect light – supporting day to night transitions on stage. So if you have a blue sky, you always make sure there is a small amount of warmth added (orange, red, etc.).
It was through documenting and preserving historic scenes that I realized so many backdrops could function as translucencies.
Here is an example from 1902. You can see hoe the view from behind the drop (on your right) reveals how little color was applied to the fabric.
This practice continued into the 1920s, despite stylistic changes.
Here is another comparison with a view from the front and from behind – to show how thin the paint is applied to the fabric. Those white areas on the left are stage lights shining through the fabric.
Here is a distemper detail that I painted for a Haymarket Opera Company production in Chicago, Illinois – L’amant anonyme by the Chevalier de St. George. I firmly believe that the key to distemper painting is how little pigment is used and the body of the paint – whether it is dense or flowing. Very thin paint, or low viscosity, will appear opaque with front lighting, but will remain extremely flexible. That is how I was able to pack eight 27’ ground rows, ranging in high from 30 to 60 inches in a standard suitcase. Although the scene appears quite opaque, there is very little pigment applied to the fabric. When you stand behind the scenes you recognize how thin each layer of paint was applied.
Another painted detail from the same show. In many cases, we have forgotten how much we can do with any ordinary white light source placed behind a distemper drop. And this has to do with the viscosity and layering of colors. The image on the left shows a section of distemper drop under work lights. The image on the right is the same painting, but with a standard white lamp behind the painting. Underlying colors are revealed – transitioning the entire palette without the necessity of colored light. No glass or gels. Again, this is the metamorphic nature of distemper paint that supported 19th century scenic illusion and spectacle.
Another detail with a gelled incandescent on the right. This is more of what we are used to. But when we combine colored front lights and illumination from the backside – possibilities are endless and the whole scene glows.
Another example of a translucency – one created with distemper paint – not dye; one that we are more familiar with in contemporary effects. This one shows how a sky can transition to sunset without the use of dyes.
Many audiences have never experienced the magical allure and metamorphic nature of distemper settings on stage.
This beauty, however, can instantaneously be destroyed with poor lighting.
When lit poorly, painted legacies from our past resemble dull-colored and thread-bare rags at best. Side light will especially accentuate wrinkles. Front light erases wrinkles in an instant.
In some cases, however, seeing is believing. Here is an 11-second video showing the transition from side light to front light.
This is nothing fancy, just a shift in direction. Keep this in mind the next time you encounter a deteriorated backdrop, because with proper lighting, some of the most damaged scenes can look fresh.
So why am I so passionate about the history of scenic art? It all started in college. As I took one scene painting class after another in college (same distemper painting class, different levels), I repeatedly queried my professor about early women scenic artists. His response – “They were all boys, get over it.” This was not a subjective statement, or one intending to put me in my place. My teacher was teaching what he had been taught. His statement, however, really lit a flame inside me. I decided to learn everything I could about scenic art, the people, and the processes.
Part of this quest involved extracurricular studies and museum exhibits. In 1989, I received an Undergraduate Research Opportunities Program (UROP) grant to process an historic scenery collection – the Great Western Stage Equipment Company, established in Kansas City, Missouri, ca. 1920s. I worked in the Performing Arts Archives, part of the University of Minnesota archives. This UROP grant was followed by another – Holak Collection. The second collection contained designs from two primary firms – the Chicago-based studio of Sosman & Landis Studio and their affiliate studio New York Studios.
The acquisition of these collections, spearheaded by my mentor, Prof. Emeritus Lance Brockman, was contingent upon their open access and use by students. Copy work was critical to his scenic art program. This meant that University students could request a design, set up their watercolor palette, and replicate the composition in the reading room. In addition to copying historic designs, I enlarged them on 5’ x 5’ flats – using traditional materials and exploring painting techniques. His future hope was to digitize the collection so that theatre students, academic colleagues, and professionals would have free access to all of these materials.
From 1999-2000, I worked with these two collections, and a previous, the Twin City Scenic Co. Collection, Minneapolis, MN, to create an online digital database. I was in charge of layout, contents, text, content and assigning metadata to over 3000 artifacts.
I still return to the collection, examining details of many designs. This project has continued to inform my own research.
Assigning meta data, replicating designs, and preserving historic stage scenes have all helped me make a series of immediate connections while working on site. It is my continued work with these collections over 35 years has allowed me to immediately locate many original designs for extant curtains. For example, when I unrolled a drop curtain at the Theatre Museum of Repertoire Americana in Mount Pleasant, Iowa, last January I remembered that the design was part of the Twin City Scenic Collection in the database, and quickly located the file in the scenery database.
For me, the past continues to informed my present, as a theatre historian, scenic designer, and artist. I still have that fire burning, a drive to learn all I can, while I can.
Such was the case when I catalogued and repaired the scenery collection at a 1912 Theatre in Santa Fe, New Mexico. From 2002-2005, I led a crew of eighteen local hires to preserve this 74 drops over the course of three years. I was also leading the preservation of a sister collection in St. Paul, Minnesota – same design, same scenic studio, but installed in 1911.
From 2016-2018, I worked with photographer and one-time scenic artist, Jo Whaley, on the publication “The Santa Fe Scottish Rite Temple: Freemasonry, Architecture and Theatre.” Jo and I were the volume editors; I was also one of three contributing authors.
We were granted permission to photograph all of the scenes with original costumes and properties. Again, these were scenic designs that I first encountered in 1990 while processing the Holak collection. The descriptions, installations, sizes, signatures were all engrained in my memory.
This is one of the reasons that I am so adamant to share my research, to help jog the memories of others, whether they be theaters owners, back stage crews, or the descendants of scenic artists and designers; many historic theaters do not understand that they are part of a much larger network. It also re-frames our understanding about scenic artists, painting process, and liberties taken from design to installation.
I am going to conclude with a topic that I introduced last year during the conference, English Scenic artist Harley Merry, aka Ebeneezer Brittain. He worked as a performer and scenic artist, emigrating to the United States in the late 1860s. I bring Merry to your attention, as it brings another aspect of the scenic art trade into focus. After moving to America, Merry was integral in organizing serval groups, including the Protective Alliance of Scene Painters in America.
This organization became the current scenic art union known as United Scenic Artists. Recently, the Union produced a video about their history, still listing these men as…
There is no doubt that each was skilled, but this group does not comprise the best that America had to offer at the time.
They only represent a small number of scenic artists working in a few specific regions. The picture is very telling, especially when you start realize those nationally-renowned scenic artists missing from the picture.
For me, these men represent those who had…
…the most to lose without establishing a protective alliance and keeping OTHER scenic artists out.
Artists like Mabel Buell. It was not until 1918 that women were allowed to join the Union – 2 years before women were able to vote. Mabel A. Buell’s late entry makes it appear that women were just beginning to enter the scenic art field; few and far between. This perpetuated misconceptions that the scenic artists were primarily white men.
It’s important to understand that when Mabel joined the Union, she was not only a scenic artist, but also was a scenic studio owner. Both she and her mother worked as scenic artists, as did her father and brother. As in many cases, it was a family affair.
By the way, this is Mable directing her employees (center picture). At times her staff numbered over twenty people.
When Mabel joined the Union, she was described as the “only girl in the profession.” Buell continued to be listed as such in the early 1920s. By this time GENERATIONS of women had worked as scenic artists. Some were wives, some were daughters, some were sisters, and some entered the profession all on their own.
Here are three examples of women scenic artists identified as the “Only” over the course of two decades. On the left is Grace Wishaar, listed as the only woman scenic artist by 1901 She had been painting for over a decade at this point. On the right is Irene Kendrick, listed as the FIRST and ONLY scenic artist in 1909. In the center is Mable Buell – pictured in the 1921; still listed as the only woman scenic artist in America throughout that decade.
Well, that wasn’t necessarily the case – Here are a few names women scenic artists from the mid-19th to early 20th century.
Although there are many, many more. These were women who painted stage settings and were listed as such in census reports, city directories, and newspaper accounts. Not all scenic artists were listed as such.
I believe historians try their best to represent the world as it was. However, at some point, the contributions of generations of artists were left out of theatre history. Aesthetic shifts, new design movements, and innovative technology continue to be credited to a select few.
The use of “ONLY” to describe a female scenic artist in newspapers, sends an underlying message – they are not a threat. After all, there is only one. The same language was used to describe scenic artists who were people of color.
Over the past few years, I have identified women, indigenous people, and people of color who worked as scenic artists in the 19th century. Many of these discoveries occurred while writing the 120 biographies of Soman & Landis studios). This research is for my upcoming book, “Sosman & Landis: Shaping the Landscape of American Theatre.”
Today, online databases provide massive amounts of information about individuals who worked as scenic artists. We are now able to identify thousands of individuals whose contributions to theatre history were either forgotten or ignored. This means that we are responsible for reframing the history of scenic art and theatre history.
Women and people of color who were often not counted, but they were present, they contributed to our shared theatre industry.
WE can no longer solely teach theatre history from the same books that have been used by generations of students.
WE are completely in control when choosing the lens through which we depict our industry’s past, present, and future of our industry.
To be continued…
