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While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is recovering from travel and catching up on current projects. She is reposting a few weeks from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her twenty-first post from March 6, 2017.

For additional installments, visit www.drypigment.net

Part 21: Rags to Riches

We slowly made our way across the old studio, pulling a variety of theatrical artifacts from the gap such as lining sticks, a pounce wheel handle, 1924 newspaper, teaspoons, Masonic buttons, miniature wooden battens to support scenic designs, and more. By this time I had my little mound of treasured items near the ledge.

Then a grey knitted rag appeared, so filthy that the dirt just dropped in clumps. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was an old paint sweater. Little dabs of white paint were all over the sweater. I was trying to determine whether this could possible an article of clothing that belonged to a scenic artist. If the spots were just white it could have belonged to any painter working throughout the building during its construction. Most of the spaces would have received a coat of white primer.

In the dim light, I peered at little splotches of color. This was all dry pigment, and a wide range of colors! I am familiar with the appearance of dry pigment on my paint clothes. It sets on top of the fabric and looks like little dabs of pastels (colored chalk) on the surface, not simply blobs of latex paint. This sweater belonged to a scenic artist. The likely hood that it was Moses’ was also very great based on his diary entries. The nearby artifacts would support also my theory.

After my return to Minneapolis, I staged the sweater for a series of photographs to document as many details about the sweater as possible.

During this photo shoot I noticed a loose button on one of the pockets. When I examined the left pocket, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and that little voice of intuition say, “Check the pockets.” I stuck my fingers in the pocket and felt something. Tears came to my eyes as I pulled out pink and white silk flower petals.

There is something about finding an article of clothing belonging to an artist that is awe-inspiring, especially when you have studied this particular artist for a few decades. It is something else entirely when you discover such a personal aspect about the artist. The petals in his pocket meant something to him, enough for him to pick them up and tuck them in his pocket.

Moses was a romantic and it is very apparent in the writing of his diaries, typed manuscript and newspaper submissions. He incorporated poetic phrases and sentimental touches to many situations.

And Moses noticed flowers, commenting on them throughout his life.

In 1925, Moses wrote:
“… we were busy watching the annual Flower Parade through the principal streets of the city…However, as it was our first view, we will have to admit that it had some very interesting features in it, as many of the floats were made of the actual live flowers, the others artificial.”

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is recovering from travel and catching up on current projects. She is reposting a few early installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her twentieth post from March 5, 2017.

Part 20: Little Boxes

 Discoveries in loft above the Fort Scott Scottish Rite stage prompted an extensive search of the area. Soon, I was crawling through the dirt and peering into a two-feet deep gap along the studio floor where we discovered the paintbrush. It quickly became apparent to my crew that this was not a case of “finders keepers,” as had been the case with the remainder of trash piles scattered throughout the scenery collection with every new item. These would be part of an exhibit at the entrance of theatre in the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center. They were wonderful companion pieces to the scenery acquisition.

In the same spot from where we discovered the scenic brush, colorful pieces of wood began to emerge. I immediately identified these slats as pieces from dry pigment boxes. The crew looked at me in puzzlement every time I added a colorful wooden slat to my pile. Occasionally they asked, “Are you taking THAT back to Minnesota too!?!” Their queries were understandable as most of my finds resembled broken bits of wood, in the dim light. Although each pigment box remnant was covered in filth there were still traces of the original colors.

All the while we pulled up scraps of wood, I kept thinking of the folk song “Little Boxes” and Malvina Reynold’s lyrics:

“There’s a green one and a pink one

And a blue one and a yellow one

And they’re all made out of ticky-tacky

And they all look just the same.”

Some boxes even included the stenciled shipping labels. The dry pigment had been shipped to “Sosman and Landis c/o the Scottish Rite Fort Scott, Kansas.” For me, this was a smoking gun!

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is recovering from travel and catching up on current projects. She is reposting a few early installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her nineteenth post from March 4, 2017.

For additional installments, visit www.drypigment.net

Part 19: Colorful Ruminations above the Stage

I climbed twenty-feet up above the stage, using the narrow metal ladder to reach a level that had once possibly been Thomas G. Moses’ onsite paint studio. At the age of sixty-eight, Moses would have ascended this same ladder multiple times every day during his brief stay in Fort Scott to paint the scenery. I was reminded once again that scenic art has never been a profession for the weak.

The platform, or studio floor, above the stage area was now in abandoned ruins. By June 2014, all of the contents in the building were auctioned off. Over a year later, any artifacts remaining in the complex were small piles of discarded items. Above the stage, there were only mounds of dirt and debris.

I tried to imagine the space as it was 1924 – Moses’ paint studio, complete with impromptu tables with scattered pots of color and brushes everywhere. Buckets of water and a drop tacked onto the temporary frame would have completed the picture. There might only be the single barrel of whiting too and nothing else.

Regardless, my first task was to look for splotches of dry pigment color on the floor, marking paint spills or where the colorful powder had leaked from either bags or boxes. Areas with dry pigment could verify and onsite paint studio. The barrel of whiting could technically belong to any onsite painter and not just a scenic artist. I needed more information to verify the presence of a scenic art studio.

There was almost too much dust and debris to even identify what was beneath my feet in the dim light. I continued my trek across the space, carefully looking down and trying to spot any anomaly amongst piles of dirt. The space was only partially lit by the overspill of the few stage lights that still worked.

Did I bring my flashlight up here? No, of course not. I tripped over a pile of rubbish and kicked up some more dust. Coughing, I also realized that I didn’t have my particle mask. It was next to my flashlight in the auditorium. Oh well, opening the barrel of whiting would warrant another trip anyway.

I continued to move toward the barrel, minding my step and realizing that I could be courting disaster. No flashlight, no particle mask, and no railing along the steep edge. All I needed to do was to cough, trip, stumble and fall to the stage floor. The idea of this catastrophe resulting from Murphy’s law made me giggle. I had already tripped over the tubes downstairs and my ankle was almost swollen beyond recognition!

These thoughts ceased when I neared the barrel of whiting and saw a splotch of bright blue against the grey floor. I recognized it immediately as dry pigment. Brandon then pointed out another splotch near the edge.

Each was a colorful reminder of the past! The dry pigment was not limited to the floor, but splattered all over the brick walls. I was ecstatic and internally celebrating the validation of my theory.

Austin, the youngest of our crew, became curious and knelt on the dirty floor, brushing away piles of dirt. He crawled to the six-inch gap between the edge of the studio floor and exterior brick wall. Reaching into the gap, he probed the area. He was holding something when he withdrew his arm – a paintbrush!

However, this was not just any paintbrush. It was a scenic fitch! This confirmed that a scenic artist had worked up here. This evidence and the written information recorded in Moses’ typed manuscript just verified the location of his onsite studio!

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is recovering from travel and catching up on current projects. She is reposting a few early installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her eighteenth post from March 3, 2017.

Part 18: A Prime Discovery

The 1931 typed manuscript of Thomas G. Moses (1856-1934) provides an abundance of information concerning his design process and the creation of the painted scenery. Moses first mentions working with the Valley of Fort Scott in 1923, noting that he felt they “were in line for the contract.” His story continues with his return during May 1924, writing, “I made a colored sketch for the decorations and then gave another showing of my scenes and closed the contract.”

By August of 1924 Moses finalized the onsite details, met with his carpenter and put in a full days work before continuing on his way to Colorado, Utah, California and Washington. In October he returned again for only a few days. He immediately departed with the intention of returning in two weeks to commence the painting, but poor health and unexpected work intervened. At this time Moses was battling a chronic cough and was beginning to have some severe health issues. He was 68 years old, overworked, constantly traveling, and taking little time to rest and recuperate.

Finally, on October 23^, Moses left for Fort Scott and immediately started painting upon his arrival. He stayed until November 25, recording,” Fulton and I dug in to the work, and it was some hustle to get through, which we did on the 17^th of November. At the finish I got a payment of $7,000, the balance to be paid within a month. Our extras brought the contract up to $22,000.00.” Moses did not return again to Fort Scott until August of 1925.

While we were onsite, I was able to identify where Moses had painted the majority of the scenery – 20’ above the stage floor on the stage-left side. His onsite studio in 1924 was accessible by a narrow ladder that climbed up the back wall of the theatre – on the stage left side.

A few days before our departure, one of the riggers was contemplating the removal of a converted sewing machine as a souvenir. It had been used to track the moon light box across a night sky in the Twenty-first degree. It was located on a ledge high above the stage floor. As he examined the machine, we asked him to look around and see if there was anything else of on the nearby platform.

“Just an old wooden barrel,” he responded. My heart started to race and I immediately asked if he could identify the contents.

“I can’t tell as it’s still sealed. But there is a pile of white stuff next to it and the same type of powder leaking out of the seams.”

“Oh my God,” I thought and my heart leapt. He found a barrel of whiting!

Now this might not sound exciting to many people – an old wooden barrel leaking white powder twenty feet above the stage.

What many people don’t know is that whiting was the product used by scenic artists to prime painted backdrops. The chances that this was an original barrel purchased by Moses and abandoned onsite after completing the job was very likely. Whiting was cheap and too heavy to justify shipping it back to the Chicago studio.

The traditional formula for drop primer was mixing strong size (diluted hide glue) with a fine powder that primarily consisted of silica, zinc, lead, or a mixture of thereof. The powder was soaked in a galvanized tub of water overnight, making sure that it was thoroughly dissolved and free from lumps. Then it was then “slaked” before using; this process separated out the gritty substance from the chalk. The chalk was scooped out and mixed with strong size. The primer was evenly worked into the fabric of the drop, thus providing a clean and uniform base on which to draw the design.

If an entire unopened barrel of whiting was up there, what other treasures could be hidden away under a layer of filth? Would I be able to verify that Moses used this space as a temporary onsite studio? We headed toward the ladder to check out this exciting new discovery.

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is recovering from travel and catching up on current projects. She is reposting a few early installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her seventeenth post from March 2, 2017.

Part 17: Rolling the Drops

The drops were loosely rolled to transport down the winding staircase to the first floor in Fort Scott. There, they would need to be unrolled and rolled again onto cardboard tubes for shipping. Prior to any final rolling, however, they we carefully matched up with all of the corresponding scenes. Entire scenes were not lowered simultaneously; we slowly worked from upstage to downstage in succession for safety reasons.

A year earlier, I had completed this same task with Paul Sannerud and was absolutely dreading it. For the Winona scenery, we carefully flattened each scene on the floor and rolled each drop onto 6” tubes of PVC. This was an option due to the shorter length of twenty feet – the height of each scene. For Fort Scott we needed longer tubes -twenty-five feet, hence the cardboard tubes from North Carolina.

I had found a company that manufactured shipping tubes to order. Unfortunately, due to the initial contractual delays, the tubes were very late in arriving – so we had to alter my anticipated process. Instead of “lower, take downstairs, roll and stack” it became “lower, take downstairs, place somewhere, and wait to roll.” This meant that I had to divide each scene on the first floor and remember where all of the scenes were once we started rolling – as there would be a specific placement in order to unload the collection from the truck into the storage unit.

The difficulty of this task is always trying to roll a piece of fabric that is not flat. When a drop hangs for decades, the shape becomes altered over time and it is no longer a perfect rectangle. People fail to understand that the fabric continues to stretch from a variety of factors. Primarily, uneven pick points allow the weight of the batten at the bottom of the drop to reshape the rectangle into a trapezoid – often undetectable from the auditorium. Then there is the hourglass shape with curling edges on each side of the drop – very identifiable from the audience.

Furthermore, the air currents bellow out the center. Think of it as the center of the drop moving forward and backward, gradually stretching the fabric, resulting in a central sagging. These alterations are almost unperceivable, until you lay the fabric on the floor. Some areas will form bubbles, like when you played “parachute” in gym class. Remember how all of the edges could be brought to the floor and the center puffed up? A similar thing happens to the drop when all of the fabric settles to the ground, there are still irregularities in the center.

Another way to understand the difficulty of this task is to think of rolling linoleum on a tube. The rigidity allows it to roll perfectly. This is not what happens with old fabric and wrinkles appear. When wrinkles appear during rolling, the fabric subsequently creases and the paint it cracks off, thus forming an irreparable line.

Even after restoration, wrinkles often occur during rolling. That is the reason why I am so adamant about only restoring scenery on site. You might have a restored a drop and it looks perfect on the floor, but the rolling and transport will damage all of your work. Therefore, you would need to do additional work once it arrived at the space; work that would be extra and drive up the overall expense. This was another point of contention with the CEO. He refused to believe that the drops couldn’t be restored off site and transported without harm. In the end, he found someone to restore them off site. Upon inspection of the first few “restored” drops during February 2017, all of my fears about transportation after restoration were verified.

In Fort Scott, there was not a single space on the first floor where we could fully layout any drop. This added an additional layer of complexity to the process. Prior to rolling, we had to loosely “accordion pleat” about two-thirds of the scene.

I had always rolled up the drops on the floor, but my lead rigger Brandon invented a rolling machine that saved our backs, knees and the painted surface on many drops! He called his invention the “rigger–mo’-roll!”

He picked up sawhorses and casters from Kansas City to create a fabric roller. It took a while to assemble, but I was amazed at the end result. Not perfect, but the weight of the fabric would keep the rolls mostly taut and minimize the wrinkles. In the end, each drop would weigh 100 lbs. and take four robust individuals to safely transport it anywhere.

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting early installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her sixteenth post from March 1, 2017.

Part 16: Stonehenge

I need to explain a little history about the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry prior to discussing the Fort Scott Stonehenge composition. I will simplify this history as much as possible so that your eyes don’t glaze over before getting to the scenery part.

The Scottish Rite is divided into two jurisdictions that are based on geographical demarcations. The Southern Jurisdiction is west of the Mississippi and south of the Ohio River. This means that the majority of the country belongs to the Southern Jurisdiction. I am not going to discuss what caused the division or the reason for the appearance of multiple Supreme Councils (governing bodies) in the North.

In the past, I have argued (in various publications and in my doctoral dissertation) that the earliest degree productions were performed in the Northern Jurisdiction.

Why? My theory is competition.

You see, during the mid-nineteenth century there were competing Supreme Councils in the Northern Jurisdiction of the Scottish Rite. This was not the case in the Southern Jurisdiction where one Grand Commander ruled from 1859-1891 (Albert Pike).

If you are in competitive environment, WINNING requires more members and more money. Staging degrees was a great way to promote a superior ceremonial experience that would subsequently bring in more money. Keep in mind that during the 1920s there was even a candidate class of 1000! That is a pile of cash that results from initiation fees and membership dues.

Now in the Southern Jurisdiction, Grand Commander Pike passes away in 1891. Prior to his death, Scottish Rite stages were beginning to appear in the Southern Jurisdiction – especially Minnesota, a state that straddled the western geographical demarcation of the two jurisdictions. By the 1880s, small stages were appearing in Minnesota lodge rooms with settings for the obligatory (or indispensable) degrees. Each degree could be an individual play with the potential for multiple acts. Each act could have numerous scenes. Money determined the size of scenery collections. Some Valleys had small stage with a set of ten roll drops while others had massive auditoriums with over a hundred drops that would be lower from a fly loft.

Grand Commander Pike in the Southern Jurisdiction was against the elaborate staging of degrees, stating, “The Rite in this [Southern] Jurisdiction is a Rite of instruction, and not of scenic pomp and stage-show…I can not conceive of a more useless occupation than the arranging and performing of degrees, neither the effect nor the purpose of which is to make men wiser or better, but which are acted as melodramas…” This pretty much sums up why a lot of Masonic theaters didn’t appear throughout the Southern Jurisdiction until AFTER Pike’s death in 1891.

At this point, the Supreme Council initially takes a “non-action” as no one wanted to stop the growth of the Scottish Rite. This neutral action enabled the expansion of degree productions and theatrical interpretations of the degrees.

But some of the interpretations went a little too far – especially in Kansas. New designs began to appear – Stonehenge – for the Vedic scene in the 30th degree. There are two extant scenic designs depicting this composition – so the drop in Fort Scott, Kansas wasn’t an anomaly. But was it regionally specific to Kansas? You see, many regions developed unique interpretations for each degree.

Just a few hours to the west of Fort Scott in Wichita, there was another unusual composition that appeared. The stagehands still refer to this as the “goddess degree.” And I first encountered it during the summer of 2015 on our road trip from Fort Scott to Guthrie, Oklahoma.

Enter a new friend and kindred spirit Janet Wolter. Wolter co-authored “America, Nation of the Goddess: The Venus Families and the Founding of the United States” with Alan Butler.

We met while volunteering at the Minneapolis Scottish Rite library. One of our first discoveries was a handwritten Grange ritual. It was at this point when I exploring the ritual for the National Grange of the Order of Patrons of Husbandry. Beginning in 1867, it too had secret meetings, oaths, and passwords, incorporating themes from Greek and Roman mythology. This intrigued me and I thought about the Stonehenge and Goddess scenes in Kansas, telling Janet about my discoveries.

She suggested that Grange characteristics might have been incorporated into the ceremonies of other organizations. Were these new Scottish Rite compositions a type of outreach to Grange members? Was the Grange in Kansas an overt influence on the staging of Scottish Rite degree productions?

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting the first fifteen installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her fifteenth post from February 28, 2017.

Part 15: Raising Hell

Many Scottish Rite degrees can be narrowed down to three instructions: follow directions, respect others, and do the right thing. Doesn’t sound much like devil worship, does it? That being said, Scottish Rite Valleys are reluctant to show one particular stage setting to the general public – Hell. Throughout the country the composition is also referred to as Hades, the Dante drop, or the Inferno scene.

A simple explanation for the inclusion of this subject is that the scene depicts the fate for those who fall prey to temptation. It reinforces WHY you want to do the right thing. “Be a good person” doesn’t always work. “Be a good person or this terrible thing will happen to you” provides incentive. The setting often includes one cut drop and a backdrop, sometimes two cut drops for added depth and scenic effect.

Compositions frequently include a variety of demons and tortured humans.

Very seldom did the scene remain as a red cave, but that is the case in a few Valleys, including McAlester, Oklahoma. Fort Scott included one of the most popular depictions and was NOT painted by Thomas Moses in 1924. This scene was painted much earlier in 1904 and enlarged to fit the Fort Scott space during the 1924 installation.

It matches the same scene used in other Scottish Rite theatres, including Grand Forks, ND, St. Paul, MN, and Santa Fe, NM. It was a stock design, and a shiny one at that, being replicated multiple times during the first two decades of the twentieth century. But what makes this scene special? What is the visual appeal? The sparkles.

The hell scene used foil paper strips to outline many of the figures and rocky outcrops. Why? It was a scenic illusion to reflect the fiery pits of hell. As the drop would slightly move, the crinkled foil strips would reflect the light and sparkle, thus creating the appearance of flickering firelight.

Pretty cool effect, but very labor intensive. Especially when you consider attaching each strip with glue after having already spent a significant amount of time attaching the netting to the cut drops. It was an expensive scene to purchase. Refurbishing the hell scene in 1924 would have saved a significant amount of money for the Fort Scott Scottish Rite and a significant amount of time for Thomas G. Moses.

This is one of the scenes that make evaluations and restorations a delight. People always want their picture taken with this setting – especially if there is an entire group. The caption reads, “Work is Hell.” But then there also is hanging the restored of the scene and shouting “Let’s raise hell!” Or the response you give to your spouse when he asks, “How was work today?” and you respond, “It was hell.”

To be continued…

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting the first fifteen installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her twelfth post from February 25, 2017.

Part 12: The Volcano Scene 

The 17^th degree of the Scottish Rite can be one of the most exciting degree productions on a Masonic stage. Lighting flashes, thunder rumbles, the ground trembles, and a volcano explodes, toppling buildings in the foreground of a painted composition. A red plume of lava shoots into the air, while rivulets of lava stream down the mountainside and gradually spill into a lake. Slowly, the sky and water become a bright blood red.

The first time I documented this scene was at the Winona Scottish Rite Theatre, were volunteers assisted in successfully presentation.

This scene is often labeled “17^th degree Vision” and could include a variety of scenic effects, all dependent on the amount of money that the client was willing to invest. The Fort Scott scene was like Winona and quite elaborate, using netting, transparencies, translucencies, and a variety of rigging mechanisms to lower painted panels on the front of the cut drop.

The staging relates to the breaking of the seven seals in the Book of Revelations. Cataclysmic events occur and a variety of painted visions are magically revealed in transparent sections of the composition. Fort Scott had five small drops for the visions.

These small paintings were almost always the work of an inexperienced artist as it was a perfect opportunity for them to show their skills in drawing and figure painting. If it really was a horrific end product, it wouldn’t matter due to its placement on stage, plus the dim lighting would conceal most of the flaws.

I have often wondered whether these small scenic art projects were the work of the owner’s nephew at Sosman & Landis Studio. Over the years, I have stumbled across comments concerning this familial relation who was constantly given an opportunity to prove his artist ability and consistently failed. This might have been the perfect project to prevent him from ruining the remainder of any Masonic installation.

In my mind I imagine the following dialogue:

Artist 1: What are we going to have him paint this time? He doesn’t seem to be getting any better and he’s so slow!

Artist 2: Give him the Vision drops again.

Artist 1: But he can’t paint figures and it will take him forever!?!?

Artist 2: I know, but at least it will keep him busy and you can’t see much of the painting during the degree anyway.

Artist 1: Well, the art does represent the end of the world.

In the past, I have posted painted details of anatomical oddities from various Vision scene figures: breasts that were placed just below the collar bone, hair that defied gravity, hands that were unbelievably large, and faces with unnatural eye placement. Similarly, figures from the York Rite’s Sepulcher scene were often sporadic in terms of quality too. I frequently post these details with my standard comment,” and this is why drawing classes are important in scenic art training!”

The figures for Fort Scott were an interesting mixture of skill, but very inconsistent. I was reminded of the Vision scenes in Winona, Minnesota where one was “okay” and four were “pretty awful.” Although Thomas Moses was not a fabulous figure painter, I wondered if his onsite assistant was responsible for these paintings.

To be continued…