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Drawn to History 

One of the last studio discoveries was a number of jumbo charcoal sticks, some used, and some new. An entire box or bag must have dropped into this crack and I saved and every recovered shard. These jumbo sticks were used to draw out the composition for every drop.

In 1929, Moses wrote, “Started my painting on the McAlester job by drawing in the Barins Anti-Chamber…”

Charcoal markings were also found on the backsides of drops too. In scenic studios, they marked the size of drops and their eventual location as they were transferred from the sewing room to the paint studio. Charcoal also listed the subject of specific stock scenes.

I envisioned the beautiful display that could display these artifacts and provide artistic provenance for the collection at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center. This was going to be billed as the Thomas Gibbs Moses collection, a Scottish Rite Mason and nationally recognized scenic artist.

We had the primer that formed the basis of the painting, the charcoal sticks that were used to draw the composition, and a detail brush that was used to apply the dry pigment. Furthermore there was the artist’s sweater and Scottish Rite paint cap AND his writings from the diary. I envisioned a lovely display for all to see, one that would draw international audiences. The careful handling of both the scenery and artifacts would be stunning. Restored drops were almost indistinguishable from new ones. It would be like walking into a Scottish Rite theatre during 1924 – but with all of the modern conveniences. Could it get any better than this?

I anticipated the looks of the visitors on the opening day of the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center. We had just enough time to transport the collection back to Minnesota, restore a few scenes, and hang them for the June 24, 2016 opening! It was going to happen and this was the perfect collection for a heritage center.

I looked to the long-term goal. The restoration of this collection could be a wonderful training ground for students across the state of Minnesota. This was an opportunity to share knowledge about both dry pigment painting and restoration techniques. This might revitalize a trade that was on the verge of extinction.

To be continued…

Keep it under your hat

 Austin immediately found another dust-encrusted piece of fabric after the paint sweater. But this one was a paint cap. It had the same colored dry pigment specks as the sweater and I imagined the paint flying through the air as Moses painted the drop. It suggested the speed at which Moses painted, one of his greatest strengths.

The speed at which scenery was painted reduced the overall labor costs, thus returned the greatest profits to the shareholders. In 1881, Moses had recorded, “The others were able to draw more, because they were better in the artistic end, but I had it over them when it came to speed.” And it was this speed that mattered in both a studio and as a freelance artist.

Upon closer inspection of the little black cap, I noticed the Masonic insignia. This wasn’t simply any painter’s cap, it had a Scottish Rite eagle on it! It was just too much to comprehend and I floated back to the hotel after work. When you receive news that is so absolutely fantastic, there is a moment where you just want to keep it to yourself. I didn’t immediately call my husband, tell my mother, or notify any colleague. For just a day, I savored the discovery with the crew.

(Moses wearing New York)

(Had while painting drop curtain)

(Moses painting landscape in center of studio photo)

(Studio photo)

This was a turning point in my career and I could feel that this was simply the beginning. These artifacts, their discovery, and their further linking Freemasonry with scenic art would continue to expand.

To be continued…

Rags to Riches

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

Then a grey knitted rag appeared, so filthy that the dirt just fell from it. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was an old paint sweater as I noticed the paint spots. 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. The various spaces in the building would have received a coat of white primer.

In the dim light, I intently peer at the little areas of color. Was this the patter in the fabric? Soon, I determined that it was in fact dry pigment and a wide range of colors! Luckily, I was extremely familiar with the appearance of dry pigment paint on my clothes. When it sets on top the fabric, it looks like little dabs of pastels (colored chalk), not simply blobs of paint.

I knew that this sweater belonged to a scenic artist, and the likely hood that it was Moses’ was very great. The nearby artifacts would support this theory, as well as his diary entries from his time spent painting in Fort Scott, but there would be one aspect about the sweater that would support my theory and it wouldn’t happen util after my return to Minesota.

Later, I would stage the sweater for a series of photograph to document detail of the sweater with measurements in my Bloomington office. During this photo shoot I looked at the pocket button. When I looked at 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 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. 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 handwritten 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…

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 had 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. In June 2014, all contents in the building had been auctioned off. By 2015 any artifacts remaining in the complex were only small piles of discarded items. Up here, there were only mounds of dirt and debris.

I tried to imagine the space as it was 1924 – a paint studio, complete with impromptu paint tables holding pots of color and brushes, maybe even buckets of water and a drop tacked onto the temporary frame. My initial hope had started to plummet, realizing that Austin might have been right and only the single barrel of whiting remained – 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 Moses’ onsite paint studio. The barrel of whiting could have technically have belonged to any onsite painter, not just a scenic artist. I needed more information.

There was almost too much dirt to even identify what was beneath my feet or what the floor was constructed of in the dim light. I continued my trek across the space, carefully looking down and trying to spot any anomaly amongst piles of dirt. Did I bring my flashlight up here? No, of course not. I tripped and kicked up some dust. Coughing, I also realized that I didn’t have my particle mask. It was next to my flashlight in the auditorium.

Oh well, I thought. Opening the barrel of whiting would warrant another trip up here anyway. I continued onto the barrel, careful not to trip in the dark – again- and I recognized 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 swollen beyond recognition! I had a mental image of shouting “Charge!” and attempting to race up a staircase with my swollen ankle. What was I thinking?!?!

These distracting thoughts ceased as I neared the barrel of whiting, seeing a splotch of bright blue against the grey. I recognized it as dry pigment. Brandon noticed another one near the edge of the ledge too. There were colorful reminders of the past with every step! And the color wasn’t only on the floor, but there were also splatters of dry pigment all over the brick walls. At this point, I was ecstatic and internally celebrating the confirmation of my theory.

Austin, the youngest of our crew, became curious and crouched onto the dirty floor, crawling to the gap between the floor and brick wall. He got down on his hands and knees, brushed the dirt aside, and reached down into the gap. It reminded my of a movie scene from my youth when of Flash Gordon reached his hand into the tree trunk hole as a test of courage.

I kind of smirked as I thought, “Oh to be young again….” This smirk quickly turned to astonishment as he pulled a paintbrush from the crack. But this was not just any paintbrush, it was a scenic artist’s brush called a fitch!

To be continued…

A Prime Discovery

The typed manuscript of Thomas G. Moses (1856-1934) provides an abundance of information concerning his design process and the creation of the painted scenery. His typed manuscript was created in 1931 and based on handwritten annual diaries. Moses first mentions working with the Valley of Fort Scott in 1923 writing that he felt “we were in line for the contract.” His story continues with his return in early May, “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 few days.  His intention was to return in two weeks to commence the painting to the scenery. At this time Moses battled a chronic cough and was beginning to have some health issues. He was 68 years old, overworked, constantly traveling, and taking little time to rest and recuperate.

On October 23^rd of that same year, he left for Fort Scott and immediately started work upon his arrival, staying until November 25^th. He recorded,” 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 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. 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, Austin was looking at the converted sewing machine engine on a ledge high above the stage floor, contemplating its removal as a souvenir. This machine tracked the moon for the 21^st degree ruined abbey scene and showed the ingenuity of Masonic stagehands. As he checked out the machine, we asked him to look around and see if there was anything else of note up there.

“Just an old wooden barrel,” was Austin’s response. My heart started to race and I immediately asked what was in it.

“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, but too heavy to ship back to the 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…