The three horizontal seams on the Napoleon Drop Curtain at the Brown Grand Theatre were separating; the thread completely failing, leaving gaping holes in the painted composition. Each needed to be reinforced prior to hanging.
Although this is not a common occurrence, I have encountered it before on historic scenery at Scottish Rite theaters in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and Pasadena, California.
In each case, the historic scenery was treated at least twice with flame retardants, possibly more. I have noticed that when some historic drops are re-treated with a secondary type of flame retardant, a chemical reaction occurs, causing the fabric to become stained and brittle. Not only will the fabric deteriorate, but the paint will actually begin to flake off. Such is the case with the Napoleon Drop Curtain.
We know for certain that the Napoleon Drop Curtain was treated with a flame retardant as the back clearly states “Flame Proofed”– twice. It is possible that an overly strong solution was applied to begin with, or that a secondary application was added over the years. Some fire marshals will demand that historic scenery be treated ever few years; they have no idea that this will destroy historic scenes.
In regard to the failing seams on the Napoleon Drop Curtain, the only remedy is to reinforce them, thus preventing the further separation of the fabric panels. I reinforced one seam earlier this week as a test sample. This was to make sure that I could manipulate the drop, as well as verifying the strength of the glue and width of the necessary patch. Today I realized that all of the seams were different widths.
There are two factors accelerating the overall deterioration of the painted surface on the Napoleon Drop Curtain: flame retardant and primer. The primary issue is that the pigment has begun to separate from the primer. Saturating areas with an extremely diluted hide glue has helped some. However, I have been hesitant to treat any areas that were not dusting. My hesitation stems from the overall thickness of the combined primer and paint layers. I have actually never encountered such a thick layer of dry pigment paint on an entire drop before, and the added weight to the fabric is quite something.
The weight makes the drop difficult to shift. This drop is incredibly heavy, and it has nothing to do with the actual fabric. The weight comes from the paint. This excess weight is also taking a toll on the fragile fabric. Typically, I am able to easily move a drop once it is on the stage floor. Keep in mind that the drop is on plastic, so it should easily slide in any direction that I want it to go; I just have to get a little air under the drop and it should readily move. The easiest way I can describe this process is playing with a parachute in gym class. Giving a little flip to the edge gets air under the fabric, lifts it up, and helps move the entire drop. When it is airborne, you guide the direction of where the drop will land. Usually, I can do this by myself with very little effort, but not the Napoleon drop curtain. It took two of use today to shift the drop.
The drop curtain was flipped face side down to reinforce the two remaining seams. This was not an easy task. When we flipped the drop face up again, I just about burst into tears. There were entirely new areas of damage to the painted composition. This time the damage was in vertical lines running down one area of the drop. I could not believe my eyes.For the life of me, I could not figure out why there was vertical damage, and not horizontal.
There is that moment of stunned silence when I find myself at a loss. Then my brain goes into overtime, trying to process what has happened and what this means for the rest of the restoration and hanging process. I thought of all of the obstacles that will occur when it is hung from the pipe and raised. I needed to come up with a process to minimize any further damage during handling and hanging.
When I was patching four horizontal tears on the the backside of the drop, I noticed a vertical crease running though an entire fabric panel. At the time, I could not imagine was caused it. This flaw was original to the creation of the drop and not recent. It is now contributing to the paint separation, as are other areas with fabric flaws.
Here is my plan for today:
When the paint restoration is completed it will need to dry overnight. Despite the air conditioning, an abundance of rain this week has not helped lower humidity levels or dry time. Early Monday morning, I will roll the drop onto a tube. Due to limited time and supplies, I am forced to use fabric-wrapped PVC tubes. This in itself is incredibly tricky, as old drops seldom easily roll without creases. The new top batten will already be attached and ready to go. The idea is that the drop will be slowly unrolled as it is lifted; a time-consuming process, as it will need many hands gently unrolling the drop. Once suspended, and the lines leveled (hemp system), the bottom batten will be added. Attaching the bottom batten is pretty straight forward as the original lines are still visible. This is an original batten, by the way. The problem is that I will not be there for the actual hanging, scheduled next Friday.
How the drop responded during handling does not bode well for the overall longevity of this piece.
I was recently asked how long the restored drop could last. Considering the deteriorated fabric and flaking, I explained that it could possibly last for another forty, or even fifty, years. However, at some point it will need a backing piece, one that covers and supports everything. That is always a last resort and should be delayed as long as possible. The repairs to the back will cause a huge problem during the backing process. The added thickness and weight will also become problematic. After seeing the vertical lines today, I don’t know if it will last more than a few decades now, especially when I start factoring in the humidity and heat in Kansas. Temperatures on the stage greatly vary.
I have been restoring historic scenery for quite some time. There are always wildcards that you can’t anticipate, but this one is really unique. For a drop painted in 1978, this should be in much better shape. There is just so much paint on the fabric. The seams will hold, but it is impossible to determine when the actual fabric will give way. I say this, having handled drops three times the age of this one, with absolute confidence that they had several decades left in them.
The thickness of a paint layer ultimately determines the lifetime of a backdrop. The seaming matters too. Over time, I have noticed that vertical seams support the weight of bottom battens better than horizontal seams.
On September 17, 2021, I was interviewed by Tony at KNCK Radio. He asked a variety of questions my current scenery restoration project at the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas. Here is the link to the interview:
I have never encountered random patching on a historic backdrop. Patches are usually placed with a purpose; to repair some sort of damage to the fabric. The Napoleon drop curtain at the Brown Grand Theatre in Concordia, Kansas, has dozens of patches that range from approximately 1” x 1” to 3” x 8”. Only a handful of these patches cover damaged fabric. The placement of the rest remain a mystery.
Initially, I surmised that an enthusiastic individual came up with a solution to prevent light spill, covering thin areas with a patch, but now I am beginning to wonder. Today, I had to remove a few of those patches along a horizontal seam for reinforcement. There was nothing odd about the fabric beneath the patch.
As I removed each patch, I was surprised to find no thinning fabric or apparent damage beneath. This was very perplexing, and I started to take a closer look at the actual patches, the glue, and placement. Here is an example of another patch that I removed to prepare the area of a reinforcement strip.
It was apparent that the patches were placed while hanging, just based on glue drips alone. Glue saturated the drop, and a variety of muslin patches were pressed into place. Not all patches were well cut or placed. This haphazard process not only cracked the paint, but also left some staining on the front when the glue seeped through.
Here are my observations:
Multiple hands cut the patches. Some had perfectly frayed edges, with all of the thread removed. Others had wadded up bunches of thread in the corners. A few patches were even cut with pinking shears. I could not help but think of the individual who was was actively working to prevent frayed edges.
Multiple individuals slathered glue on the area to be patched. Some used an abundance of glue to the point that there is more glue on the surrounding fabric than under the patch. In some cases, so much glue was added that it dripped down like tree sap.
Quality greatly varies in placement. There are so many examples where one can say “not like this.”
Here are a few examples of what not to do when patching a drop:
1. The glue goes on the patch first, not the drop; it never goes on both. The reason for this is to prevent the glue from seeping through to the painted surface.
2. Do not place one patch over another; it’s pointless.
3. Fray the edges of each patch, do not use pinking shears. This helps secure the edge of the patch.
4. Smooth down the frayed edges of each patch. This helps secure the edge of the patch.
5. Smooth down each patch and don’t forget to remove wadded up threads attached to the patch. This helps secure the edge of the patch.
Here is how to place a reinforcement patch on a seam:
Back to the project…Reinforcing a seam is a pain. Ideally, I use one long strip. However, this could not be the case with this project, as the original seams were very poorly done. Typically, I press open up the seam, and place prepared patch. Keep in mind that the patch is to prevent the seam from pulling apart; evenly supporting the weight. I reinforce seams when the thread begins to fail. A thread that fails is often the subject of flame retardant. In some areas, the seam on the Napoleon Drop Curtain would not lay flat, as it was uneven. That meant slowly making my way across the drop with 3’-0” lengths.
In addition to reinforcing one of the three horizontal seams, I finished securing the painted patch at the top. I still have a little paint touch up, but it seems good to go for the new top batten. There is just a little more painting to go.
The wild card of my project at the Brown Grand Theatre is replacing the top of the drop curtain. It is a long process, that requires several steps and several days of dry time.
This portion of the project all stemmed from a horizontal rip that began along the top batten years ago.
What should have happened when this damage was initially identified, was a simple patch. In other words, remove the top batten, repair the fabric, replace the top batten, and rehang; problem solved. Instead, the old four-inch pine batten was replaced and a new six-inch oak batten, placed well below the original damage. The excess fabric was then wrapped around the backside of the batten. Even this repair may have been reversible, except the excess fabric was glued to the batten.
Furthermore, the new top batten was not adequately prepared prior to use. Specifically, the sharp edges were not rounded, shaved, or sanded, so another rip began to appear in the same location as the previous one. On top of everything else, the glue used to secure the excess fabric was solvent-based, so it continued to off-gas after the new oak batten was attached. A chemical reaction occurred that rapidly deteriorated the fibers and irreparably damaged the top of the drop. This meant that the top twelve excess inches wrapped around the oak batten became damaged beyond repair; they could no longer support the weight of the drop. A simple reinforcement strip along the top was no longer an option. The damaged excess fabric needed to be removed and the new top edge would be “sandwiched” between two reinforcement strips for adequate support.
Although this seems like a complex repair, the biggest problem is dry time. Each step requires a good day for the glue to dry. The drying goes slow because the patch needs to be compressed for a secure seal. This is not like the application of a normal patch to a puncture where you lightly press and walk away. I am using hide glue for this repair.
Three days ago, I glued the fabric extension to the backside, creating the back patch. While this dried, I prepared a painted front patch. By yesterday afternoon, I had managed to secure the painted front patch to the edge of the top, as I could not glue the entire patch at once due to size. Today, I will continue to attach the remainder of the front patch.
In addition to the top patch, I will also need to reinforce all of the seams. This will be the most difficult repair in the entire project. It is time-consuming and tricky. There were four panels of fabric sewn together when the drop was constructed. The three horizontal seams have begun to fail, so this will require a reinforcement strip that runs the entire length of each seam.
While all of this is happening, I continue to work on consolidating loose paint and addressing areas with paint loss during dry time.
I am currently in Concordia, Kansas, working on a scenery restoration project at the Brown Grand Theatre.
I returned to the theater yesterday morning to discover bat guano scattered across my clean drop. This was something that I did not anticipate and added a layer of annoyance. It would not be a one-time issue.
My recent encounter with bats makes me leery of them now. I am sharing this story, as it taints my view of bats at the Brown Grand. My first “residential bat” experience occurred last month. It was when Jenny Knott visited my studio and helped document my restoration process. Keep in mind that my studio is in the woods and for the past eighteen years bats have never been a problem. That being said, I had never been in close proximately to a bat in any house. There is nothing quite like waking up to a bat that is repeatedly slamming itself into your screen window and then erratically flying around the room.
I did not run screaming from the room, but immediately panicked and hid under the covers. I would have stayed there until the morning if it hadn’t been ungodly hot at the time. Jenny and I dealt with it, eventually directing the winged critter into another bedroom at 2am in the morning. I had always thought that I would handle a bat encounter better, with calm determination as I vanquished the unwelcome invader from my home. I was wrong. I think the majority of my fear stems from the unpredictability of their flight pattern.
Anyway, after cleaning the droppings from the drop, I proceeded with my plan for the day. By the way, don’t worry, I am fully masked and gloved for this project anyway. I continued addressing the minimal cracks and paint loss throughout the painted composition. As I scooted along on a piece a plastic, I explored the varieties of the painted surface and actual colors. First of all, the drop had been touched up by a well-meaning individual at some point, but there was also a slight sheen to some of the original colors. I surmised that the reflective quality was result of two different things: the strength of original size (glue) in the paint and a later sealant added to some areas.
The main colors affected were all greens. Most of the painted green draperies will not reactivate with water. I have never encountered this problem with a strictly dry pigment and diluted hide glue (size water) mixture. This suggest that a premix paint was added to the dry pigment/size water medium. This means that an additional binder is added to the mix, and the paint will remain fixed.
Also, the malachite green (in the shadow areas of the drape) is the most reflective of the colors, but these dark colors are definitely composed of dry pigment and will reactivate. Some dark dry pigments are notorious for dusting, even upon initial application. They require a stronger size water than normal. However, you have to make sure that there is not too much glue in the size water or it dries shiny. That is possibly what happened here.
The light greens are also a problem, as they do not reactivate with water at all; suggesting that premixed paint was added to the mixture upon application. I suspect that it was the same white paint used to prime the drop. The white primer does not reactivate when water is introduced either. This is problematic and contributes to the overall flaking and dusting of colors. The dry pigment paint mixture never fulled bonded to the primer.
This same pre-mixed white paint was likely added to lighten the green drapery colors. I have explored the addition of premix to dry pigment mixtures in the past to analyze the final finish. White dry pigment is a wild card. It can lighten a color an unbelievably amount when only a little bit is added to the mix. This makes mixing light colors extremely tricky and why I always try to lighten color with another color of a lighter value instead of white. A premixed white paint (casein, latex, acrylic) will lighten colors at a different rate and remain more predictable. It is never an option when restoring an historic drop.
In addition to the color issues, there is also a sealant problem. At some point, a sealant was applied a few areas; the brushwork is very identifiable. Overtime, the sealant darkened and remains fixed. My guess is that the composition was dusting, and someone tried to consolidate the loose colors.
In addition to repairing minor paint damage, I also continued to work on the top of the drop. The entire top section was removed, damaged beyond repair from a solvent-based glue that was applied when the top sandwich batten was replaced. Yesterday, I prepared, placed, sized and base-coated the top patch. This will be applied to the frontside of the patch placed yesterday.
Finally, the new top battens were delivered by a volunteer, and they look absolutely beautiful!
I am currently in Concordia, Kansas, working on a scenery restoration project. With a population of approximately 5,000, this town is located in central Kansas; an area known as the Smoky Hills region of the great plains.
My project is to repair and restore the second drop curtain delivered to the Brown Grand Theatre in 1979; a painted replica based on the original one delivered by the Twin City Scenic Co. in 1907.
The painted composition is extremely deteriorated, with some of the problems stemming from overly thick layers of primer and dry pigment paint.
In my humble opinion, the key to a painted scene’s longevity is making sure that the painting remains flexible. This applies to any historic setting, whether it was painted with thin glazes (as in the English tradition) or opaque washes (as in the European tradition). The primer and the paint layer can never be too thick, even when a translucent area is back painted. I believe that it is a lot easier to accomplish this objective with dry pigments and diluted hide glue than with premixed paints. Dry pigment colors can maintain their vibrancy even after a ridiculous amount of size water is used, yet still sit on top of the previously applied color, maintaining an opacity unparalleled with premixed paints.
So, why is a thick layer on the surface of a drop curtain a problem? A thick primer and/or paint application means that it is drop becomes subject to cracking, flaking and dusting down the road, especially when handled a lot.
Normally this would not be a big problem for a permanent installation; such is the case with most drop curtains in historic theaters, as the drops stay on a dedicated line set and are never moved. However, the Brown Grand drop curtain has been handled excessively over the past decade. It has been lowered to the stage floor at least three times since its installation in 1979. The drop was lowered to the stage floor when the top sandwich batten was replaced, swapping the original 4-inch wide pine for 6-inch wide oak. It was lowered when the rigging was recently replaced too. I have to wonder if the rigging crew allowed the drop to accordion to the floor, as with some modern drops. There are tell-tale horizontal creases that suggest that method. It was lowered a final time just prior to my arrival this week. The lowering and raising process takes a toll on a thickly painted compositions, resulting in an abundance of creasing and abrasions. These weaknesses accelerate the aging of the scene if left untreated and eventually becomes irreparable.
I noticed that many areas of paint loss on the Napoleon drop revealed a white prime coat beneath, and the white paint had a slight sheen to it. This may be that too much size was added to the whiting during initial application – or that another paint product was used. However, there is not a good bond between the primer and paint. In other areas, the prime coat has completely detached from the fabric, revealing raw fibers below. In addition to cracking, flaking, and dusting pigment, there is a substantial amount of surface contaminants. Removing the top layer of dirt has been tricky, but I went color by color, determining which colors would need extra attention during consolidation.
After cleaning the drop, I addressed areas with minimal cracking and paint loss. Using a damp brush, loose color can quickly conceal the damage and fill the void. I say, “easily,” but this is really a tricky process that has taken me quite a few years to fine tune. First of all, not all of colors will work, especially if any pre-mixed paint was added to the dry pigment colors. Secondly, this method only works for small cracks, not large areas of paint loss. It is important to remember that you have one shot to get it right, and a very limited window of time to shift the paint. For this Brown Grand drop curtain, I could successfully shift some yellows, browns, reds, sienna, dark blue and black (yes, there is black on this one, not Van Dyke). The greens are immovable, suggesting that something else is going on and another type of paint may have been applied at the onset.
This whole approach takes a great amount of skill and years of practice. If you do it wrong or overwork an area, you can actually remove the color and further damage the composition. Light colors are incredibly tricky, including skies, as a tide line will also appear if your brush is too wet. However, this process does not introduce any new color to the composition. That being said, there will still have to be a significant amount of in-painting for this project.
My second task yesterday was preparing the top of the drop for a fabric reinforcement. Twelve-inches of the top of the scene had to be removed, as off-gassing from a solvent-based glue used while replacing the original top batten had irreparably damaged the fabric. Using hide glue, two long patches were secured to the backside, four inches below the new top. It will remain under weights for twenty-four hours, and then I will continue with that particular project later today. This was not part of the planned project, so we had to scramble for materials. This included a quick shopping trip in Salina, Kansas.
By the way, this is a solo project. I am not using any assistants or volunteers for the restoration. Much has to do with the increased Delta variant in this region. We just lost a close family friend to COVID in the area a few weeks ago.
If it weren’t for the potential health risks for all involved, this would be a fantastic teaching opportunity. Regardless, I am tried to document my process and share daily updates with all stakeholders. This is the best way to communicate without having people stop by and check in on my progress.
In 2002, I was hired by the Brown Grand Theatre to restore three backdrops: a Garden Scene, Woods Scene and Rocky Pass. Each backdrop was a victim of severe water damage. At the time, the venue still had its original hemp system and paint bridge. There were no counterweights of any kind; no sandbags to ease a stagehand’s burden, just three ropes. I remember trying to lift one of the scenes and just dangling, but I was a lot lighter then so it could have been just me. The Brown Grand Theatre project was one of many during the summer of 2002. I was also restoring historic scenery collections at Scottish Rite theaters in St. Paul, Minnesota, and Santa Fe, New Mexico. That summer, I was overwhelmed with projects, and completed the Brown restoration on my way home from Santa Fe. The Brown Grand stage house was absolutely captivating, but I did not have any time to adequately document the paint bridge, rigging, or many other intriguing details.
I returned to the Brown Grand Theatre in 2009. This time, my project was to remove and minimize the staining from tar drips; collateral damage during a roof repair. It was a quick job, completed after another large restoration project, this one at the Scottish Rite in McAlester, Oklahoma. Again, my stay at the theater was very brief within no time to document any other stage artifacts, the rigging or paint bridge. I will always regret not stopping to snap a few images.
Last year, I was again contacted by the Brown Grand about some damage to their scenery. The general manager explained that the front curtain was in desperate need of repair. This really surprised me, as it was a painted replica from 1979. In the 1970s, the original drop curtain was replaced after it was deemed irreparable. I was extremely familiar with the replica, as well as the original and couldn’t image what caused the rapid deterioration.
The project was granted-based work, so we waited for approval. The timeline remained fluid, as I was unwilling to schedule prior to the vaccine roll out. We decided tentatively for the fall of 2021 – late September. I really wanted to be fully vaccinated before I started planning restoration projects again and coming in close contact with people that I didn’t know. All this time, I was basing the project timeline on a few current pictures and memory. I added that until I saw it in person it had to remain a “guesstimate,” so in July I swung by the theatre. I was on my way home from Colorado with Michael Powers after meeting the New York Times reporter in Leadville.
I was not prepared for the transformation that had occurred to the Brown Grand stagehouse since my last visit.
All of the details that I never had time to photograph were gone. An entirely new rigging system, fly floor and paint bridge had been installed. I was devastated, woefully disappointed with the new version; it also worked less well than the old system. Regardless of my disappointment, I assessed the damaged drop. The majority of the damage was caused by good intentions and amateur repairs. We could not fully lower the drop to the floor, as the paint was quite thick, and we would need multiple hands on deck. However, I got a good sense of the condition. I also suggested that they lower the grand border for my return, so that I could address some of the damage to that too.
At some point an enthusiastic individual came up with a solution to prevent light spill through the thin areas of fabric on the drop curtain. Instead of placing a curtain behind it to block the light spill, dozens of patches were glued to the back. It had been patched while hanging too, with a substantial amount of glue. The actual application of the patches not only cracked the paint, but also left some staining throughout.
As I discussed options, we decided to leave the patches on, since removing them would likely cause more damage than just touching up the front. The “plan” was for me to arrive on a Monday and depart on a Saturday. The project was to conceal areas of paint loss and staining, as well as patch new damage (rips and punctures). There was also another tar drop to deal with – same place. Prior to my arrival, they would lower the drop and then raise it after my departure. Both top and bottom battens would remain on during the repairs. I would arrive on a Sunday, work Monday through Friday, and depart on Saturday morning. On my first day, however, I would verify the work for a week and do a zoom presentation to the Board of Directors. This would be an opportunity to immediately address any surprises. Before my departure at the end of the week, I would make another presentation to the Board about my completed work. I reserved two additional days for unanticipated work, or damage that occurred when the curtain was initially lowered to the stage.
Upon my arrival yesterday, I was able to fully inspect the entire drop curtain and grand border. I was not prepared for the “improvements” made to the top and bottom sandwich battens since my last visit in 2009.
I’ll start with Surprise #1 today: The 4” top pine batten of the drop curtain was completely replaced with a 6” oak batten. It wasn’t just replaced; the drop was shortened when they place the new boards below older damage at the top. Therefore, the top 12” were wrapped around the batten, all the way to the backside. Prior to wrapping the drop around the oak, a piece of muslin was glued to the wood with a solvent-based product and assembled quickly. This glue seeped through the base layer of muslin to the surface. The glue then proceeded to off gas, causing the painted fabric to rapidly deteriorate. Like tissue paper, any pressure to remove it from the glued areas caused it to disintegrate. I was successful in removing some of the fabric, but not the majority of it. The top 1′-0″ of the drop is not usable and damaged beyond repair. It and will have to be removed, as it cannot support weight or be salvaged. Fortunately, the timing is lucky, as I doubt the drop would have lasted the season.
The bottom batten was only altered on the ends. Again, oak was added to the ends of the original sandwich batten. In both cases, the sharp edges of the oak damaged the nearby fabric.
These issues will be address next weekend. For now, I begin the process of cleaning, repairing and paint touch up.
It is another fantastic article about the Tabor Opera House scenery and the venue’s sole full-time employee, Tammy Taber! Tammy’s institutional memory of the building is astounding, as she began working under the leadership of Evelyn Furman. To me, she is not only the heart and soul of the building, but also a dear friend.
The easing of many COVID-19 restrictions this summer opened a floodgate for work for me. Feast or famine; I really wish that it could be a just steady stream of work and not the unexpected deluge. I began to travel again, resuming projects put on the back burner during the spring of 2020. One project overseas finally came to fruition, and I scheduled a trip to the West Flanders region of Belgium.
My involvement with the municipal theater (Schouwburg) in Kortrijk began in 2018. I was contacted by Bruno Forment, now a research fellow at the Orpheus Instituut (https://orpheusinstituut.be/en/orpheus-research-centre/researchers/bruno-forment). I first met Forment in 2016 when he organized an OISTAT Research Committee workshop in Stockholm, Sweden. OISTAT is the International Organization of Scenographers, Technicians and Theatre Architects (https://www.oistat.org/). I attended the event with Rick Boychuk and my husband Andrew Barrett, giving a presentation on historic theatre scenery at Scottish Rite theaters in the US. This event became a turning point for me, as I immediately connected with many of the attendees. One of my close friends surmised the encounter with the statement “You found your peeps!” Although I really dislike the term “peeps,” she was spot on. Despite our various nationalities, occupations, ages, and career trajectories, we were all trying to preserve the theatrical past for future generations.
Two years later, in June 2018, Forment contacted me about a historic scenery collection at Schouwburg Kortrijk, asking, “How crazy would it be for you to spend time in Belgium working on these rare materials? There aren’t that many experienced specialists like you around, even in Europe.” I was extremely honored to even be asked and immediately accepted the offer.
The Forêt asiatique scene consisted of fifteen pieces, a small fraction of a much larger scenery collection delivered to the venue between 1913 and 1936. Here is a link to the entire scenery collection at Shouwburg Kortrijk: (https://beeldbank.kortrijk.be/index.php/search?q%5B%5D=zwanenzang&view=). Numbering over 400 pieces in all, the scenic artifacts included backdrops, borders, wings, and profile pieces, all from the studio of Albert Dubosq (1863-1940). Here is a link for more information about Dubosq as he is absolutely fascinating: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Albert_Dubosq.
The project interested me for a variety of reasons, far beyond any restoration project. First and foremost, Dubosq was a contemporary of Thomas G. Moses (1856-1934) and many of the other nineteenth-century American scenic artists that I have written about at www.drypigment.net. Both Moses and Dubosq began their careers as gilders for decorative art firms, soon transitioning to the world of scenic art. Each became extremely well known and eventually ran a large scenic studio. Near the end of their respective careers, both Dubosq and Moses focused on scenic design, with their own scene painting falling far behind their managerial duties at the studio. The variety of scenic output from Dubosq’s studio was very similar to that produced by Sosman & Landis in Chicago, Illinois. Moses was the last president for the firm, having started at the studio in 1880. In fact, the painting techniques and color palette of Dubosq and Moses are almost identical. I planned a trip to Kortrijk in 2019 to see the scenery first hand, one that coincided with the Prague Quadrennial (Prague, Czech Republic) and Stage|Set|Scene (Berlin, Germany).
Forment wrote a book about the history and significance of Kortrijk’s scenic collection, entitled “Swan Song of an Illusion: The Historical Stage Sets of the Municipal Theatre of Courtrai” (Zwanenzang van een illusive: De historische tonneeldecors van der Schouwburg Kortrijk). Here is a link to his publication: http://www.erfgoedzuidwest.be/nieuws/zwanenzang-van-een-illusie-de-historische-toneeldecors-van-de-schouwburg-kortrijk He has recently published another book about Belgian scenic artists and stage illusion entitled “Dream Landers: Wizards of the Painted Stage Décor” (Droom Landers: Tovenaars van het geschildrede toneeldecor). Here is the link to his publication: https://www.standaarduitgeverij.be/boek/droomlanders-9789022338186/
In addition to identifying the significance of the collection, Forment actively worked to secure a storage facility for the large framed pieces in the scenery collection. A large archival and research complex, named the Tresoor (after the French word trésor), is located a short drive from Schouwburg Kortrijk. Just like buried treasure, however, many artifacts housed at the facility are difficult to extract from their storage. Much of the collection is neatly stacked in a vertical shelving system, with a loading dock at the end of a massive bay. Unfortunately, it is a logistical challenge to remove any one item from the Tresoor and transport it to Schouwburg Kortrijk. Throughout the transportation process, loose pigment floats to the ground; a colorful dust cloud contaminating everything it passes. Storing historic scenes off site is often necessary but takes a toll on the actual pieces.
The discovery of the Dubosq’s scenery was so well received by the Belgian government that five of the settings were identified as Flemish treasures, including the Forêt asiatique. This meant that these artifacts now fell under the guidance of a governmental heritage organization named the Topstukkenraad. The organization was established to protect a variety of artifacts integrally inked to Belgium’s heritage. But this prestige and financial assistance came at a cost. Although the settings are now preserved under a ministerial decree and recognized with the title of “Flemish Top Heritage,” their handling, restoration and future use are extremely restricted. In addition to limiting handling and display, the designation inadvertently placed the scenery into a fine art category, permanently changing its primary function.
Everything becomes complicated when historic stage settings are solely perceived as fine artworks. First and foremost, theaters do not share the same financial support or staffing resources as museums and archives. To many art historians and conservators, stage scenery is simply considered a large-scale painting, yet it is radically different from artworks that hang on a gallery wall. A painting in a museum is stoically viewed under fixed lighting. Such is not the case with historic scenery for the stage. Few individuals outside of the theatre industry understand the true metamorphic quality of scenic art, specifically how it partners with stage lighting systems. Scenic art, regardless its age, remains part of an interactive artform intended to withstand the handling of many. Scenic shifts are necessary in many productions. This means that standard conservation techniques do not always work for historic stage scenery, as they cannot withhold the demands of a scene change.
When stage scenery is identified as fine art, many methods selected for repair and preservation are based on traditional methods employed in art conservation, not those familiar with theatre history or stage technology. Therefore, the conservation of each drop follows strict conservation guidelines without considering the funtion. Accepted conservation practices are not always appropriate for the stage. Many art conservation materials are solvent based, posing fire threats as accelerants. The standard film for fabric repair, BEVA 371, immediately ignites when it comes in contact with flame; it is not an appropriate material, yet is repeatedly cited for scenery conservation. Furthermore, original flame retardants on historic scenery, such as alum, can interact with application of contemporary conservation materials.
I was initially brought into the Forêt asiatique restoration conversation in 2018 to propose and explain alternative approaches; scenery restoration methods that not only preserved stage artifacts but also facilitated their continued use. The intent was to begin a dialogue with all scenery stakeholders: theatre managers, art conservators, and heritage representatives. By December of that year, Ververken asked me to provide a formal proposal to restore the Forêt asiatique setting, working with local volunteers. I identified restoration materials, techniques, layout, and labor. I submitted the proposal by January 2019, identifying various options for cleaning, paint consolidation and repair. My estimated timeline for the project was a little over a month. There were many areas that intentionally remained vague in my proposal, as there are differing levels of conservation. Methods could vary from basic cleaning and stabilization to full restoration. It was up to the Topstukkenraad to determine the extent of restorative work on the Forêt asiatique scenery. After receiving the submission of my initial proposal, Topstukkenraad representatives advised that they would directly supervise my work on site, immediately stopping a process if they believed the artwork in jeopardy. Each method was to be presented, discussed, and approved throughout the duration of the project, then re-evaluated as it commenced. Realistically, this meant that any estimated timeline could immediately quadruple mid-project. As with any project moderated by a third party, we began to play a game of telephone, exchanging ideas with crucial buts of information being lost along the way. I continuously responded to a battering of queries and comments about my approach, yet we pressed on.
The main issue with my involvement throughout the duration of project has remained timing; I was brought on a little too late. One scene, identified as the Palais Roman setting, became a test piece in 2018. It was treated with standard conservation materials and techniques, the work completed by Griet Blanckaert. Blanckaert is the manager at Rocockx Restoration EBVBA, as well as a professor at the University of Antwerp and Staf Vos. Explaining to this regional expert why alternative methods may work better for future scenery restoration projects is like trying to balance on a tightrope in a tornado.
Regardless of restrictions and past testing, we continued to advance with a plan to commence the Forêt asiatique restoration project during the summer of 2020. Restoration spaces were selected, I assembled potential material suppliers, and the selection of assistants began. And then COVID-19 cases spiraled out of control worldwide. When the United States went into lockdown, I realized that all of my travel plans for the foreseeable future would be cancelled. At first, we bantered around alternative dates for that fall and winter, with my explaining that this could become long and draw-out political foray in the US. The remainder of 2020 was then spent as a series of quick exchanges, with long pauses in between. We all monitored COVID-19 hot spots, travel restrictions, and safety protocols. The project continued to shift focus, with new goals being implemented for 2021.
Despite restoration delays, there was still hope that the Forêt asiatique setting would be displayed in 2021 as part of the theater’s delayed centennial celebration. The new goal was to exhibit select pieces from Forêt asiatique during the 2021 triennial for contemporary art, entitled “Paradise Kortrijk 2021.” By March 2021, the Topstukkenraad approved the use of unrestored scenery for the city-wide exhibition. Parts of the stage setting were incorporated into a contemporary art installation designed by Sarah Westphal, entitled Forêt océanique.
The exhibit of this temporary display also prompted a new directive from the Topstukkenraad in regard to the Forêt asiatique restoration. On March 5, 2021, I received an email, stating, “We would like to organize a workshop with you and other experts during the exhibition. We find your restoring method very valuable and want other experts to hear about it from you in person. It is inspiring to share the different perspectives with each other, and we hope that others will also be inspired by your method.” In summary, the Topstukkenraad advised Schouwburg Kortrijk to organize a meeting with heritage counselors and restoration experts to debate the scenery treatment proposal. August was selected, as the Forêt asiatique setting would be available for examination on stage as part of the triennial art exhibition. In other words, I was being invited not only to present detailed examples of my restoration techniques, but also field impromptu questions from Topstukkenraad representatives. Keep in mind, that at this point, no one from the Topstukkenraad had ever examined the actual scenery in person. Up until this point, the agency had based all their directives on photographs and Blanckaert’s reports.
The restoration workshop was scheduled for August 20, 2021. The findings of this meeting would recommend specific techniques for not only restoration of the Forêt asiatique setting, but also other settings in the collection. Although I confirmed my willingness to participate in the August workshop, I did not finalize any travels arrangements until three weeks before the event. My overall hesitation stemmed from shifting travel restrictions and the increased spread of the Delta variant. Getting into Belgium wasn’t my primary concern, it was getting back home. I was also swamped with work. Even short-term travel delays could be disastrous for my other projects. In the end, my travel overseas was scheduled from August 16 to August 24. A preliminary meeting and presentation occured on August 18, with formal presentations on August 19 and 20. In regard to my continued questions, it appeared as if everyone was on vacation until the day I stepped on a plane. It was a leap of faith for me, with the only reassurance that I had Belgian friends who could house me if everything fell apart. Travel overseas was a complicated, and a negative COVID-19 test was required 1-3 days, necessary before boarding a plane, both to and from Europe.
I spent a month on preparation for my presentations in Kortrijk. In addition to presenting findings from past restoration projects, I did a series of case studies, assisted by Jenny Knott. We documented the handling of dry pigment, hide glue, cleaning, consolidation of loose paint and fabric repair. For a week, Knott helped me photograph and film my methods for historic scenery preservation.
The scenery restoration workshop was the first of its kind; an international gathering of specialists to discuss how historic settings for the stage should be categorized, repaired, and handled. In additional to Topstukkenraad representatives, the group included CEMPER representatives (Center for Music and Stage Heritage, https://cemper.be/), Alexander Ververken (managing director Schouwburg Kortrijk), Heleen Allary (public relations at Schouwburg Kortrijk), Griet Blanckaert (manager at Rocockx Restoration EBVBA), Bruno Forment (research fellow Orpheus Institute), Chris Van Goethem (Erasmus University, Brussels), Raphaël Masson (Director of Conservation and the head conservator at Château de Versailles), and me. The outcome: another test has been requested. This time, I am to be onsite with Blanckaert to look at alternative restoration techniques.
My greatest hope for the workshop was to foster a constructive dialogue, one that could be shared internationally and used as a resource by many others in charge of historic scenery collections. In that sense, it was very successful. Schouwburg Kortrijk is just one example of many scenarios playing out worldwide. We are living at a time when record numbers of historic theaters are planning or undergoing renovations. During these projects, many historic stage artifacts are resurfacing, emerging from decades of storage. Tucked away in off-stage nooks or attics, many pieces remain hidden in plain sight. All the while, those directing the work have no real understanding of stage scenery or the cultural significance of painted illusion, stage machinery and lighting systems. Scenic art was designed and delivered as part of a whole, partnering with specific machinery and lighting systems. There are no guidelines to direct the handling and conservation of these stage artifacts, and that is wherein lies the problem. There needs to be an intercontinental league for the preservation of historic stage scenery.
I took a pause after spraining both wrists on May 1, 2021. It has been a long recovery, and if I could just sit still, they would probably heal faster. I wish that there was a wonderful tale to tell, but I simply tripped and fell in my driveway. Yes, I was going too fast and was preoccupied at the time. No, the injury has not slowed me down. However, the accident greatly limited my ability use the track pad on my laptop or move the mouse for my computer. Typing was also challenge.
Fortunately, this injury occurred after submitting my 1300-page report to the Tabor Opera House Preservation Foundation, detailing the historic scenery and stage machinery at the venue. In the end, I divided the scenic artifacts into fourteen distinct theater collections, compiling conditions reports, replacement appraisals and an historical analysis of each piece. Some of the collections were founded on scenic artists, some on stage hardware, and others on textile manufacturers. This document far surpassed my doctoral dissertation, which says a lot. There were too many moving parts, too many pieces to juggle, cross-reference and illustrate. And yet, I continued to write my daily blog about the life and times of scenic artist and studio owner, Thomas G. Moses (1856-1934), entitled “Tales of a Scenic Artists and Scholar.”
In hindsight, my sprained wrists gave me permission to take a break from my blog and solely focus on a few major projects and my family. After all, since the fall of 2016, I had dutifully posted daily about historic scenic art, theatres, and theatre technicians. Then work started pouring in this spring as COVID-19 restrictions were lifted; everyone resumed projects that were placed on hold in 2020. Feast or famine.
As several of my projects received a green light, I began traveling again. In July, I headed to Colorado with one of my historic rigging advisors, Michael Powers. Our Colorado stops included Trinidad, Leadville, and Aspen.
The Leadville stop was to meet New York Times reporter Elisabeth Vincentelli, and photographer Benjamin Rasmussen. At the time, I couldn’t explain why I was staying in Leadville. While on site, however, I took the opportunity to further examine the historic wings and shutters still trapped above the attic loft.