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Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Tyne Theatre & Opera House Conference, 2 August 2024.

My week at the Tyne Theatre & Opera House in Newcastle-upon-Tyne, England, culminated with a conference on Friday, August 2, 2024. “Theatrical Scene Painting in the 19^th Century: The Artist and the Picture Frame” was the second theatre conference held at the venue.

*Photograph by Mike Hume of Historic Theatre Photos*

The first conference occurred less than a year before (Sept. 13-15, 2023), with 120 delegates attending from the UK, Europe, Canada, and the United States.

*Second Annual Conference at the Tyne Theatre & Opera House, 2 Aug. 2024.*

Both events were organized by David Wilmore of Theatresearch and Rachel Snape, Heritage & Development Project Manager at the Tyne Theatre & Opera House. This year, the entire conference took place upon the stage, with delegates facing the auditorium. An Act Drop was hung (in reverse, facing the upstage wall), to set the stage for the delegates. The painting was from the brush of Deborah Mitchell in 1997, replicating an earlier curtain painted by Ernest Howard for the Royal Theatre Opera House, Northampton, 1896.

*Backside of Northampton Act Drop painted by Deborah Mitchell.*

The morning panel featured three papers.

Raymond Walker (left) explored the visual aspects of Victorian scenery and how it evolved during the 20^th century. Dr. David Wilmore (center) explored the original portraits for Gilbert & Sullivan’s “Ruddygore”, now on display at a private theatre (Normansfield). Karen Thompson (right) examined the Normansfield Scenery Collection and its conservation.

After lunch we were invited back to the stage for a stage machinery demonstration. The sloats in the stage cuts supported three of the eight ground rows I painted for the venue. The previous evening David Wilmore and Colin Hopkins (Project Site Manager & Stage Carpenter) led a crew to install the ground rows.

*Colin Hopkins attaching a ground row to a sloat. Photograph by Mike Hume of Historic Theatre Photos*

*Preparing a ground row for attachment to the sloats.* Photograph by Mike Hume of Historic Theatre Photos

The afternoon panel in my presentation, “Scenic Art, Past & Present”, Grit Eckert’s presentation “We are still here!!! Scene Painting – a Historical Study and still a Theatrical Trade”, and Prof. Christina Young’s “19^th Century Scottish Scenic Painters: Paint Frame to Picture Frame”.

As promised to those who could not attend the conference, here is my Powerpoint with text:

My name is Wendy Waszut-Barrett and I come to you as a theatre historian, scenery preservation specialist, scenic designer, and – most importantly – scenic artist. My presentation will look in detail at the paint medium used by 19^th century scenic artists and its capabilities. Then I will explain how I became so passionate about the history of scenic art and how both past and present research has altered my understanding of theatre history.

Each aspect of my career creates a lens through which I view theatre history. For me, the phrase, “Preserving the Past” goes far beyond the conservation of historic artifacts; it also applies to the preserving the theatrical trades.

Although many scene painting techniques remain well-documented in various publications and memoirs, much has been lost from contemporary application – more specifically, the institutional memory in most scenic studios. I am going to shed some light on nineteenth-century scene painting practices. Understanding the nuances of the distemper painting system helps us appreciate the metamorphic nature of stage settings created by 19th- and early-20th-century scenic artists.

Distemper paint solely consists of two ingredients: color (dry pigment paste) and binder (cooked and diluted hide glue). It really is an amazing artistic medium. In dry form, both pigment and glue can be stored for decades, weathering a wide range of temperatures. There is also no waste during the painting process, as dried piles of pigment paste on a can be quickly reconstituted with water.”

In 1903, American scenic artist, Grace Wishaar (pictured on the left) explained “Distemper is a really beautiful medium. You can produce such fine effects with it! But it’s very tricky unless you know JUST how to handle it.”

Over a decade later, her colleague Frank Atkinson wrote the following statement about distemper paint in his scene painting manual “.. distemper colors change greatly in value as they dry out…the student must not let a few failures discourage him. True ‘color deductions’ will come with experience.”

In 1924, Joseph Harker described distemper paint in his publication “Studio and Stage” as ”a peculiarly difficult medium to handle” explaining “In some instances the color, when applied, dries several degrees lighter in tone than it was originally, while in others remains unaltered. Considerable skill, if I may put is so baldly, is therefore needed in the direct painting with this medium and no fixed rules can be laid down for overcoming the characteristics I have mentioned. Long and pain staking experience is alone capable of solving each fresh color problem as it arises.” For over 35 years, I have been challenged with each distemper painting project. That being said, there is no other paint I would rather use for stage settings.

Every time I pick up a brush and paint a backdrop, I become part of the scenic art timeline, continuing the legacy of those who came before me. I still prefer painting stage scenery with distemper paint. Nothing feels quite so pure to handle, or reflects stage lights quite so well.

Let’s look at how the paint was prepared. Pigment arrived at the scenic studio in three forms – dry powder, compressed block, or wet pulp. Blocks of dry color necessitated grinding prior to their transformation into a paste.

Pigment paste was placed on a scenic artists palette and mixed with diluted hide glue, also called “size water” or “working size” or just size – hence some artists referring to this as “size painting.” Both color and binder necessitated careful preparation, the tasks completed by skilled individuals. In larger studios, “Color men” supervised preparation and distribution of colors, as ill-prepared pigment paste (pigment granules that weren’t fully dissolved) could compromise an entire composition.”

Making size from hide glue was also a skilled task, each batch affected by heat and humidity. Water is added to dry hide-glue granules, or a slab, and slowly-cooked to a honey-like consistency, then diluted with water.

Here is an example of a scenic artist’s palette, filled with bowls of pigment paste, and a size warmer below. The pigment paste and size water were mixed together on the large palette, then immediately applied to the fabric. The preparation of pigment paste, cooking of size, and set-up of a palette takes time. However, the actual distemper painting process makes up for any lost time in the set-up.

As presented in my paper last year, there were two prominent scenic art traditions at play in 19^th century; each defined by the viscosity (or thickness) of paint and its application. There was the use of transparent glazes (depicted in the left images) and opaque washes (depicted in the right).

Distemper was applied to scenery in two ways – “up” on a vertical frame or “down” on the floor. Both versions were transported to the United States, and referred to as “English” method (for up) and the “Continental” method (for down). Painting a drop that was tacked to the floor require long handles, or bamboo poles that extended the handle of a brush. Tacking backdrops to vertical frames often meant that either the frame or bridge upon which the artist stood on was movable.

Where do I fall within the framework of scenic art history? I am a hybrid. I was trained in the Midwestern United States using distemper paints (in the form of opaque washes) on a motorized frame at University. However, as a freelance scenic artist, pre-mixed paints and the continental method (floor) were preferred.

This is the motorized paint frame that I use in the States. My past eight shows have featured distemper settings.

Distemper paint and vertical paint frames were made for each other. As distemper paint permeates each underlying layer, drips are not an issue, even when the viscosity looks like milk. Distemper paint permeated the underlying layer, so even a drip will soon reabsorb into the fabric. Some contemporary (pre-mixed) color may reactivate, but not to the same extent as distemper paint – there is more of a layering effect which will cause pre-mixed paints to run.

From a paint process standpoint, a motorized paint frame allows the artists to quickly and accurately lay in vertical lines without a straightedge. It is an extremely quick way to paint lines.

Which means that painting vertical drapery folds is extremely effective, as you can play with the viscosity of paint for translucent effects.

Here is a view from the back of the frame, to show how thinly the paint is applied to the muslin.

Backlit with a simple white light, muslin painted with distemper can take on the appearance of glowing silk.

Here are three of the distemper palettes that I use while painting scenery, all ranging in size for the scale of the project. I have tweaked the traditional methods to use large baking pans – easier clean-up.

Regardless of what type of paint is used for stage settings, scenic art is more. It is a way of seeing and applying color.

That being said, distemper paint is the easiest was to teach color theory and scenic illusion for the stage.

The success of scenic illusion for the stage is understanding the nuance of each color, strategic color combinations, and economy of brush stroke.

I want to get us all on the same page in terms of color, as painted illusion necessitates the alternation of warm and cool colors. The three primary colors are yellow, red, and blue. Each primary and secondary color also has a characteristic – warm or cool.

The easiest example to see warm versus cool is yellow. I don’t want to get caught up in any specific color name – as they are dependent on suppliers. On the left is a warm yellow, and on the right is a cool yellow.

Of supreme importance in painting is the true understanding of value – going from light to dark. The success of painted illusion is based on the contrast of value

Scenic artists paint for a distance. This means that their artwork is intended to be viewed from afar – any careful blending will make a painted composition appear “fuzzy” from a distance. That is why a scenic artist contracts both value and hue. The audience’s eye needs to work, so the scene will appear more dimensional and realistic. When you examine the painting close-up, it all falls apart into dashes and dabs – an economy of brushstroke.

There is a rule of three for value selection – light, medium and dark, to work up any object. This contrast applies to foliage, architecture, drapery painting, etc. making the painted details remain visible at a distance.

Light, medium and dark values also alternate warm and cool colors. For example, the dark base is predominantly cool, the mid-tone warm, and the highlight cool.

Even when applying the same value, some compositions – such as foliage- with place warm and cool colors next to one another. This helps give definition to the shape. This strategic color placement helps reflect stage light and accentuate painted details, providing dimensions.

Here is a drapery example (on your left) of over blending, painting that shows a lack of contrast in both value and color. It can make the subject look fuzzy from a distance. The drapery painting on the right shows the contrast of value and color; draperies that will have definition when viewed from a distance.

And if we take color out of the composition, we can still see the difference and need for contrast with value for an object to remain visible from afar.

Many 19^th-century, and early-20^th-century, scenic artists were visionaries, They fully understood how painted illusion was supported with stage machinery and lighting. Pause – Scenic art is an interactive art form, partnering with various stage lighting systems.

Scenic artists understood the characteristics of various lighting systems, adjusting the color and value accordingly. Here is an example of scenery produced for electric light – blue, red and white, a popular combination from the 1890s to 1920s.

This all goes back to the color selection and application of distemper paint. The use of a warm and cool consistently creates a color that will reflect stage lights. Strategic color combinations increase the opportunities to reflect light – supporting day to night transitions on stage. So if you have a blue sky, you always make sure there is a small amount of warmth added (orange, red, etc.).

It was through documenting and preserving historic scenes that I realized so many backdrops could function as translucencies.

Here is an example from 1902. You can see hoe the view from behind the drop (on your right) reveals how little color was applied to the fabric.

This practice continued into the 1920s, despite stylistic changes.

Here is another comparison with a view from the front and from behind – to show how thin the paint is applied to the fabric. Those white areas on the left are stage lights shining through the fabric.

Here is a distemper detail that I painted for a Haymarket Opera Company production in Chicago, Illinois – L’amant anonyme by the Chevalier de St. George. I firmly believe that the key to distemper painting is how little pigment is used and the body of the paint – whether it is dense or flowing. Very thin paint, or low viscosity, will appear opaque with front lighting, but will remain extremely flexible. That is how I was able to pack eight 27’ ground rows, ranging in high from 30 to 60 inches in a standard suitcase. Although the scene appears quite opaque, there is very little pigment applied to the fabric. When you stand behind the scenes you recognize how thin each layer of paint was applied.

Another painted detail from the same show. In many cases, we have forgotten how much we can do with any ordinary white light source placed behind a distemper drop. And this has to do with the viscosity and layering of colors. The image on the left shows a section of distemper drop under work lights. The image on the right is the same painting, but with a standard white lamp behind the painting. Underlying colors are revealed – transitioning the entire palette without the necessity of colored light. No glass or gels. Again, this is the metamorphic nature of distemper paint that supported 19^th century scenic illusion and spectacle.

Another detail with a gelled incandescent on the right. This is more of what we are used to. But when we combine colored front lights and illumination from the backside – possibilities are endless and the whole scene glows.

Another example of a translucency – one created with distemper paint – not dye; one that we are more familiar with in contemporary effects. This one shows how a sky can transition to sunset without the use of dyes.

Many audiences have never experienced the magical allure and metamorphic nature of distemper settings on stage.

This beauty, however, can instantaneously be destroyed with poor lighting.

When lit poorly, painted legacies from our past resemble dull-colored and thread-bare rags at best. Side light will especially accentuate wrinkles. Front light erases wrinkles in an instant.

In some cases, however, seeing is believing. Here is an 11-second video showing the transition from side light to front light.

This is nothing fancy, just a shift in direction. Keep this in mind the next time you encounter a deteriorated backdrop, because with proper lighting, some of the most damaged scenes can look fresh.

So why am I so passionate about the history of scenic art? It all started in college. As I took one scene painting class after another in college (same distemper painting class, different levels), I repeatedly queried my professor about early women scenic artists. His response – “They were all boys, get over it.” This was not a subjective statement, or one intending to put me in my place. My teacher was teaching what he had been taught. His statement, however, really lit a flame inside me. I decided to learn everything I could about scenic art, the people, and the processes.

Part of this quest involved extracurricular studies and museum exhibits. In 1989, I received an Undergraduate Research Opportunities Program (UROP) grant to process an historic scenery collection – the Great Western Stage Equipment Company, established in Kansas City, Missouri, ca. 1920s. I worked in the Performing Arts Archives, part of the University of Minnesota archives. This UROP grant was followed by another – Holak Collection. The second collection contained designs from two primary firms – the Chicago-based studio of Sosman & Landis Studio and their affiliate studio New York Studios.

The acquisition of these collections, spearheaded by my mentor, Prof. Emeritus Lance Brockman, was contingent upon their open access and use by students. Copy work was critical to his scenic art program. This meant that University students could request a design, set up their watercolor palette, and replicate the composition in the reading room. In addition to copying historic designs, I enlarged them on 5’ x 5’ flats – using traditional materials and exploring painting techniques. His future hope was to digitize the collection so that theatre students, academic colleagues, and professionals would have free access to all of these materials.

From 1999-2000, I worked with these two collections, and a previous, the Twin City Scenic Co. Collection, Minneapolis, MN, to create an online digital database. I was in charge of layout, contents, text, content and assigning metadata to over 3000 artifacts.

I still return to the collection, examining details of many designs. This project has continued to inform my own research.

Assigning meta data, replicating designs, and preserving historic stage scenes have all helped me make a series of immediate connections while working on site. It is my continued work with these collections over 35 years has allowed me to immediately locate many original designs for extant curtains. For example, when I unrolled a drop curtain at the Theatre Museum of Repertoire Americana in Mount Pleasant, Iowa, last January I remembered that the design was part of the Twin City Scenic Collection in the database, and quickly located the file in the scenery database.

For me, the past continues to informed my present, as a theatre historian, scenic designer, and artist. I still have that fire burning, a drive to learn all I can, while I can.

Such was the case when I catalogued and repaired the scenery collection at a 1912 Theatre in Santa Fe, New Mexico. From 2002-2005, I led a crew of eighteen local hires to preserve this 74 drops over the course of three years. I was also leading the preservation of a sister collection in St. Paul, Minnesota – same design, same scenic studio, but installed in 1911.

From 2016-2018, I worked with photographer and one-time scenic artist, Jo Whaley, on the publication “The Santa Fe Scottish Rite Temple: Freemasonry, Architecture and Theatre.” Jo and I were the volume editors; I was also one of three contributing authors.

We were granted permission to photograph all of the scenes with original costumes and properties. Again, these were scenic designs that I first encountered in 1990 while processing the Holak collection. The descriptions, installations, sizes, signatures were all engrained in my memory.

This is one of the reasons that I am so adamant to share my research, to help jog the memories of others, whether they be theaters owners, back stage crews, or the descendants of scenic artists and designers; many historic theaters do not understand that they are part of a much larger network. It also re-frames our understanding about scenic artists, painting process, and liberties taken from design to installation.

I am going to conclude with a topic that I introduced last year during the conference, English Scenic artist Harley Merry, aka Ebeneezer Brittain. He worked as a performer and scenic artist, emigrating to the United States in the late 1860s. I bring Merry to your attention, as it brings another aspect of the scenic art trade into focus. After moving to America, Merry was integral in organizing serval groups, including the Protective Alliance of Scene Painters in America.

This organization became the current scenic art union known as United Scenic Artists. Recently, the Union produced a video about their history, still listing these men as…

There is no doubt that each was skilled, but this group does not comprise the best that America had to offer at the time.

They only represent a small number of scenic artists working in a few specific regions. The picture is very telling, especially when you start realize those nationally-renowned scenic artists missing from the picture.

For me, these men represent those who had…

…the most to lose without establishing a protective alliance and keeping OTHER scenic artists out.

Artists like Mabel Buell. It was not until 1918 that women were allowed to join the Union – 2 years before women were able to vote. Mabel A. Buell’s late entry makes it appear that women were just beginning to enter the scenic art field; few and far between. This perpetuated misconceptions that the scenic artists were primarily white men.

It’s important to understand that when Mabel joined the Union, she was not only a scenic artist, but also was a scenic studio owner. Both she and her mother worked as scenic artists, as did her father and brother. As in many cases, it was a family affair.

By the way, this is Mable directing her employees (center picture). At times her staff numbered over twenty people.

When Mabel joined the Union, she was described as the “only girl in the profession.” Buell continued to be listed as such in the early 1920s. By this time GENERATIONS of women had worked as scenic artists. Some were wives, some were daughters, some were sisters, and some entered the profession all on their own.

Here are three examples of women scenic artists identified as the “Only” over the course of two decades. On the left is Grace Wishaar, listed as the only woman scenic artist by 1901 She had been painting for over a decade at this point. On the right is Irene Kendrick, listed as the FIRST and ONLY scenic artist in 1909. In the center is Mable Buell – pictured in the 1921; still listed as the only woman scenic artist in America throughout that decade.

Well, that wasn’t necessarily the case – Here are a few names women scenic artists from the mid-19^th to early 20^th century.

Although there are many, many more. These were women who painted stage settings and were listed as such in census reports, city directories, and newspaper accounts. Not all scenic artists were listed as such.

I believe historians try their best to represent the world as it was. However, at some point, the contributions of generations of artists were left out of theatre history. Aesthetic shifts, new design movements, and innovative technology continue to be credited to a select few.

The use of “ONLY” to describe a female scenic artist in newspapers, sends an underlying message – they are not a threat. After all, there is only one. The same language was used to describe scenic artists who were people of color.

Over the past few years, I have identified women, indigenous people, and people of color who worked as scenic artists in the 19^th century. Many of these discoveries occurred while writing the 120 biographies of Soman & Landis studios). This research is for my upcoming book, “Sosman & Landis: Shaping the Landscape of American Theatre.”

Today, online databases provide massive amounts of information about individuals who worked as scenic artists. We are now able to identify thousands of individuals whose contributions to theatre history were either forgotten or ignored. This means that we are responsible for reframing the history of scenic art and theatre history.

Women and people of color who were often not counted, but they were present, they contributed to our shared theatre industry.

WE can no longer solely teach theatre history from the same books that have been used by generations of students.

WE are completely in control when choosing the lens through which we depict our industry’s past, present, and future of our industry.

To be continued…

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Tyne Theatre & Opera House Distemper Painting Workshop: Drapery Project, Day 3

The final day of the Distemper Painting Workshop focused on drapery painting and value.

*Title photo for Drapery Presentation. Tyne Theatre & Opera House, 2024.*

The goals for the day were maintaining a consistency of color and contrasting value. As previously explained, a contrast of value supports scenic illusion for the stage (large-scale paintings that are viewed from a distance). Drapery painting is the perfect example to discuss painting for a distance. Typically, the goal of this exercise is to use a thicker mixture of paint, focus on value and aim for a consistency of color.

For years, I have observed that many scenic artists take pains to carefully blend each fold in a drapery composition. Unfortunately, this ultimately destroys the painted illusion from a distance; the subject loses definition. Careful blending only works well when examining a painting from close-up, such as in Trompe l’œil murals in residential and commercial settings. The smallest details and smooth transitions that make Trompe l’œil a success are not visible on stage. Painted illusion for the stage necessitates a great contrast of both hue and value. Again, we want to make the audience eyes work; therefore, making the painted illusion appear more realist from afar. Scenic art is more akin to fresco painting on ceilings; they are also large-scale artworks intended to be viewed from a distance. Throughout my travels, I document the treatment of fabric on figures in ceiling murals. Most recently, I visited the Painted Hall in London. Here is an example of a drapery, showing a sharp division of value and alternation of warm and cool colors (see yesterday’s post for more detail color characteristics).

*Detail from mural at the Painted Hall, London.*

There is a distinct division of value; a sharp contrast between dark, medium, and light colors. This is what accentuate the folds of the fabric. To illustrate my point about the over-blending of drapery folds, I share two examples.

The scenic artist’s careful blending does not suggest a lack of skill, but a lack of understanding when painting for a distance. Drapery folds really need to be accentuated to remain visible from far away.

Here is how I decipher drapery painting; it is an approach that is based on my documenting thousands of extant backdrops over the years.

Again, it is the rule of three for value – dark, medium, and light. From a distance, the darkest value suggests the color, a mid-tone identifies the shape, and a highlight identifies the fabric type.

For my presentation, we looked at a variety of drapery examples where I identified the three values, again and again.

This is not meant to suggest that only three colors can be used, but it is the basic approach. In the end, some folds are accentuated with a final shadow wash, and some highlights get a “flash” (hot twinkle).

Highlights are extremely important in the end. If they are indecisive (“smudgy” and “worm-like”), it is difficult to determine either the type of fabric, or the weight of the folds.

Here are some photographs, capturing a few moments of the drapery painting project. A special shout to Mike Hume of Historic Theatre Photos for his willingness to document process.

*Drapery Painting Projects at the Tyne Theatre & Opera House, August 1, 2024. Photograph by Mike Hume.*

*Caroline Shelley adding shadows. Photograph by Mike Hume.*

*Erin Heming adding highlights. Photograph by Mike Hume.*

*Michael O’Reilly laying in drapery folds. Photograph by Mike Hume.*

*Laura O’Connell of Birmingham Rep. laying in drapery folds. Photograph by Mike Hume.*

*Completed project by Claire Thompson of Nottingham Playhouse.*

*Claire Thompson holding up project to show transparent effect.*

*Completed projects by Laura O’Connell of Birmingham Rep*.

*Laura O’Connell and Paul Westcombe showing transparent nature of the project.*

To be continued…

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Distemper Painting Workshop: Color and Process, Day 1

I was asked to teach a three-day distemper scene painting class at the Tyne Theatre & Opera House last fall. The workshop would coincide with my delivering new ground rows to the theatre. It was scheduled immediately before the 19th-century Scenic Art conference on August 2, 2024.

Flyers advertised:

The Tyne Theatre & Opera House are offering a 3-day distemper painting workshop with scenic painter Wendy Waszut-Barrett. The course will take place in Newcastle from Tuesday 30 July – Thursday 1 August 2024. Over 3days participants will learn historic painting techniques and create 2 paintings using distemper. All equipment including painting frames, brushes, pigments, gloves, etc. will be provided. A maximum of 12 places are available.

Day One: Introduction to Distemper Painting/Distemper Paint Preparation/ Colour Theory/English and Continental Methods

Day Two: Seascape Project

Day Three: Drapery Project

I have continued to fine-tune both the timeline and projects for my distemper painting classes; it has taken me years to come up with a framework for this type of workshop. First and foremost, it is extremely important to devote one entire day to color theory and experiencing the nuances of distemper paint.

I always try to start with a presentation about color; selection, mixing and application. Revisiting color theory as a group places all the students on the same page. It levels the playing field before trying to replicate any artwork, or understand a new application technique.

*Title slide for my presentation on the first day at the Tyne Theatre & Opera House, 2024.*

My rationale is that when you discuss color as a group, it is much easier to understand the various characteristics.

Here is my 2023 color theory presentation for CITT, if you want to see a previous workshop example: https://drypigment.net/2023/11/13/travels-of-a-scenic-artist-and-scholar-painting-workshop-at-citt-in-toronto-august-15-16-2023/

I tweak my color theory presentation for each class. It helps me grow as an instructor, allowing me revisit my own thoughts each time. I was extremely fortunate to have such a wonderful group of students and one stellar assistant (pictured below)!

Distemper Painting Workshop Students (from left to right): Laura O’Connell, Grit Eckert (assistant), Caroline Shelley, Erin Fleming, Claire Thompson, Emily Hackett, Michael O’Reilly, Megumi, Paul Westcombe, Yvonne Dick, and Constanza Dessain.

As promised to the class, here is the color theory section of my presentation.

One of the easiest ways to teach color theory for painted illusion on stage is using distemper paint. Pure color (pigment paste) is combined with diluted hide glue (size).

*The ingredients for distemper paint: dry pigment and hide glue*

Mixed on the scenic artist’s palette, it was immediately applied to the fabric. The constant mixing of strategic color combinations worked with various lighting systems to promote special effects on stage. This is why so most extant drops could transition from day-to-night scenes.

It is VERY important to not get caught up in the name of any one color, as it is the characteristic that’s important – warm or cool.

The easiest way to show color characteristics is with yellow. On the left is a “warm” yellow, and on the right is a “cool” yellow. It is very important to know the various characteristics of the colors that you are planning to mix.

*Warm yellow (left) and cool yellow (right)*

The characteristic greatly affects the result in a color wheel or when mixing neutrals.

Here is an example of a color wheel with primary and secondary colors clearly marked on the ring. However, it will shift if a warm or cool yellow is combined with a warm or cool red to produce an orange. This ultimately affects the creation of neutrals.

For example, green will shift if blue is combined with a warm yellow or cool yellow.

Also, combining blue with orange produces wonderful variations for shadows that reflect both warm and cool lights.

We are familiar with spattering a drop to make sure that it will glow on stage, as some contemporary colors look “dead” under certain lighting conditions. That is never the case with distemper painting, as the actual painting process ensures that every color will reflect light.

For example, a blue sky, always has a little warmth (orange/red/burnt sienna) added to the color, and this allows a sky to transition from a beautiful sunrise to midday to sunset. The same can be said for mixing shadow colors and washes, whether applied as a transparent glaze or an opaque wash.

This (orange/blue) color combination appeared on historic scenery in North American, the UK, and Europe. Here is an example from the Stadsschouwburg (Municipal Theatre), Kortrijk, Belgium.

*Matching colors to replicate a composition at the Stadsschouwburg, Kortrijk, Belgium.*

Working with a minimal color palette in the beginning works best for understanding distemper paint. I love to show Tobias Mayer’s color triangle from 1758. It looks at a unique combination of primaries (blue, red, and yellow). In the end, it is important to select four colors (blue, red, yellow, and dark) when exploring strategic color combinations for the stage.

Once strategic combinations are understood, we move on to the application and an economy of brush stroke.

Here is an example of a floral detail from a palatial courtyard scene.

There is a basic contrast of value that must be used for painted illusion on stage. This is crucial when painting for a distance. The audience’s eye really needs to work.

When a subject is finely painted, with careful blending, like in the art of trompe l’oeil, it does not read well from a distance. I will later go into depth about this when we get to the drapery painting project.

The flower below shows a selection of dark, medium, and light colors without any careful blending. There is a distinct contrast of color and value.

Each of these values also alternates between warm and cool. The dark-medium-light values alternate cool-warm-cool or warm-cool-warm.

Even when the same value is used (pictured below), there is an alternation of warm and cool. The strategic color placement for the foliage allows the object to shift under stage lights and appear more realistic from a distance. It reads better from the audience and does not appear flat.

Our first exercise explored both color and painting process.

Here are a few examples of my own color swatches. Before any distemper painting process, I familiarize myself with the colors, even if I have used them before. This often includes a “draw-down” so that I also know how far a color will stretch.

I divided the first project into four quadrants. The intent was for the students experiment with color and viscosity of the distemper palette.

The first step helps facilitate a basic understanding of mixing pigment paste and size. Creating basic color swatches helps us understand not only the color’s characteristic, but also how far the color will extend when thinned out.

*Swatches that I keep on the wall in my studio.*

I believe that everyone needs a moment to experiment with a new type of paint – where the stakes are very low. It is too much to expect students to immediately replicate a stage scene with distemper paint; too much new information actually creates an obstacle to learning. This is the moment to “play” without any self-judgement.

The second quadrant of the first project was to test the opacity and value of each color. It was an opportunity to also experiment with neutrals that would be used on the upcoming projects. I firmly believe that if you know the range of your color palette (what colors can be achieved), you are one step ahead of the game.

Typically, the next two quadrants of the first project would be two color wheels. However, for this class we jumped into base coats – practicing for the next two projects.

In the end, this proved invaluable, as each student had a chance to work with color combinations and application techniques that would be used in both their seascape and drapery projects.

*Constanza Dessain testing colors on the first day of the workshop.*

We learned a lot that first day while overcoming a few obstacles. The stage lighting proved to be a bit of a challenge, as did the fabric weight.

*Starting to experiment with distemper paint on the first day.*

I will start with the fabric and pigments.

Although not quite what I expected, the workshop fabric was the same texture and weight that I have encountered with dozens of historic drops, c. 1890-1920.

It was a cross between a theatrical gauze and very thin cotton sheeting. The silver lining was that each composition could function as a transparency – another great learning opportunity!

Here are the slides that I added in my presentation to address this particular aspect/challenge of the projects:

I first explained the similarity in materials that I had documented throughout my career. Mill stamps are a delight to find on an extant scene. The fabric delivered for the workshop was almost identical to that used by J. M. Deeds Scenic Studio in Spokane, Washington, in 1915.

*Fine sheeting (c. 1914) produced by Delta Mills in North America was very similar to the fabric purchased for the workshop.*

As is the case with most painted scenery, when lit from the front, it all looks opaque. In many cases, it even looks like the painting is on the thickest canvas available. And here is where I want to take a moment and comment on industry standards and variables.

We take it for granted that the scenery fabrics in current use have remained mostly unchanged over the years. That is simply not the case; nor was it the case a century ago. Materials are always dependent upon location, supply, demand, budgetary parameters, and world events.

I agree that there was some consistency in larger metropolitan areas. This was primarily due to client expectations, suppliers and distributers. However, not everyone delivered scenery to prominent New York or London venues.

There was a whole other world where skilled scenic artists in distant locals used a variety of materials. In more rural settings, a wide range of cloth was employed for theatrical scenery, yet the inferior fabric did not detract from the painted illusion.

Here is a detail of extremely thin fabric beneath a distemper painting from the scenic studio of J. M. Deeds in Spokane, Washington, c. 1915.

*Delta Fine sheeting beneath a layer of distemper paint. Painting by J. M. Deeds Scenic Studio, Spokane, Washington, USA.*

This type of fabric was popular for its versatility under various lighting conditions. For example, it was popular for the revelation of a hidden artifact. The detail below shows a 1915 example of a transparency in the center of a treasure chamber scene at the Masonic Theatre in Grand Forks, North Dakota. This is a 1915 drop manufactured by Sosman & Landis Scenic Studio of Chicago, Illinois.

*Fine sheeting (similar to theatrical gauze) used by Sosman & Landis for Masonic scenery in 1915.*

Here is another early-20^h-century example from a theatre in Quincy, Illinois. This was a 1912 transparent drop (same function as a contemporary scrim) manufactured by Toomey & Volland Scenic Studio of St. Louis, Missouri.

*View from behind a transparent drop (left) and painted detail on the front (right)*. *Masonic Theatre by Toomey & Volland Studio, Quincy, Illinois*, c. 1912.

And lastly, here is a transparent drop that was produced by Becker Bros. Scenic Studio of Chicago in 1930 for the Scottish Rite Theatre in Moline, Illinois.

*View of the auditorium from behind the transparent drop.*

*Front of the same transparent drop painted at Becker Bros. Studio in Chicago, Illinois, for the Scottish Rite Theatre in Moline, Illinois*, c. 1930.

Unlike contemporary scenic paint on shark tooth scrim, when holes are filled in the open-weave fabric, it does not destroy the scenic illusion on stage. One could argue that unless the majority of holes in a shark tooth scrim are filled, the entire scene will still successfully function as a transparency on stage.

Here is another view of the same drop from the wings.

*Transparent drop produced by Becker Bros. Studio in 1930.*

The scenic studios of Sosman & Landis, Toomey & Volland, and Becker Bros. were major theatrical suppliers in large metropolitan areas. In the end, the weight of the fabric was often concealed by the skill of the scenic artist. Using a less-expensive fabric also increased the overall profit margin for many studios. As we learned in the workshop, it paints up quite well.

Here is how the our first day of class went after my PowerPoint presentation… We initially worked as a group, cooking size in the morning. Flints Theatre Chandler (https://www.flints.co.uk/ ) supplied the rabbit skin glue (https://www.flints.co.uk/product/all/adh098500 ) and dry pigment (https://www.flints.co.uk/products/haussman-dry-scenic-colours?page=1 ) for this workshop.

To cook the rabbit skin glue on the stage, we used a double boiler on a hot pot, placed on a metal table. You can successfully use a variety of appliances that use indirect heat – this is just one method. I have often picked up crockpots to cook glue too.

A side note on selecting animal glue… I personally used a combination of hide glue and technical gelatin (high-clarity). In the past I worked with the chemist at Bjorn Industries . The company offers a variety of hide glue grades, ranging in strength and clarity. Their is also a quaint family-owned aspect to the company, with their products being delivered in a Ziplock bag.

*Hide Glue that I use for distemper painting in the US.*

For the Distemper painting workshop, we used the following HATO pigments:

Lemon Yellow, Chrome Yellow, Indian Yellow, Raw Sienna, True Orange Medium, True Red Light, Ultramarine Blue, Turquoise Blue, Crystal White.

*I selected Indian Yellow for the workshop, as it was the closest to the orange that I use for distemper painting.*

And two pigments from Mylands: Burnt Umber and Raw Umber.

Everything went well, but I really missed my two standard colors: a cool red (one to counter the warm red) and a really dark brown (Van Dyke). Although black was available, I refuse to place that on my scenic art palette (unless it is for a sign painting project). That is a whole other discussion and has to do with stage light.

Fortunately, the Raw Umber was uncharacteristically dark, almost filling the Van Dyke gap. Despite this minor deficit, the projects did not suffer from a lack of color options.

I am also going to address pigment quality and availability. For me, even poor-quality dry pigments are better than pre-mixed scenic paints.

I also consider sustainability when planning a scenic art project. The distemper paint system is a relatively green process with very, very, very little waste. In its dry form, color and hide glue can be stored for decades. Dry pigment paste that dries on a palette, or in a pail, can also be reconstituted, again and again. The only waste is size water that has turned. However, the shelf life of size can be greatly extended if stored in glass, left uncovered, and refrigerated. It can easily keep for up to a month in proper conditions.

I’ll start with a note on the Flints website concerning their Dry Scenic Colors:

Flints have struggled to maintain a regular supply of good quality Dry Powder Pigments so we have now decided to stock this excellent range from Germany. Haussmann have been producing these fine pigments for many years, so we are very confident that we will be able to provide you with a consistent range of excellent quality scenic powder pigments with some really vibrant bright colours plus a good selection of earths. A hand painted colour chart is available for a nominal sum. Please note, the Raw and Burnt Umber pigments are now from an alternate supplier, as Haussmann are no longer able to supply them. We have elected to do this in order to ensure we can supply an adequate range.

It is wonderful that Flints carries dry colors, and there are many pros to using the distemper painting system. Here is a slide that I included in my presentation:

Also, if you are looking for a color that is not carried by a theatrical supplier, check out the fine art world.

*Dry pigments used by Waszut-Barrett in the US.*

Here are a few other dry pigment suppliers:

Sennelier (https://www.sennelier-colors.com/en/Pigments_17.html )

Gamblin (https://gamblincolors.com/oil-painting/color/dry-pigments/ )

C. Robertson & Co. (https://www.croberson.co.uk/other-brands/cornelissen.html )

Lutea (https://lutea.be/en/ )

Bulk Apothecary (https://www.bulkapothecary.com/pigment-powder-colors/ )

Rublev Colours (https://rublevcolours.com/products/ )

This is not a finite list, and dry pigment is available from numerous art stores, including Dick Blick, Jackson’s, Jerry’s Artarama Art Supplies, Etsy, Archsupplies, and more. Dry pigment is far easier to purchase now, and more readily available, than thirty years ago.

Throughout the duration of the Distemper Painting Workshop, the stage lighting proved to be a challenge, in term of both temperature and direction. However, we were able to rearrange the frames and add some lighting booms to resolve some of the issues.

By the end of the first day, we recognized that two rows of projects created very poor lighting conditions in some areas.

*The first configuration of project frames.*

We opted to have a single row of frames, placed directly between two main light sources hanging above the stage. This provided a general wash that equally illuminated all of the projects. It also allowed students to view their projects from the auditorium.

*The second configuration of project frames. This worked beautifully!*

Additionally, we placed a sheet of black plastic between the frame projects, blocking light from the other side, as the fabric was so thin. This was Grit Eckert’s idea, as she was reminded of some scenic studios who used black behind the vertical frame when painting transparent scenes.

I want to take a moment to thank Grit for her amazing assistance throughout the entire workshop. She was there to document the process, as well as lending a helping hand whenever needed. It would not have been possible to run this class as smoothly as it went without her assistance.

*Grit Eckert helping me cover the ground rows.*

My next post will look at seascape projects, and why this type of exercise may be the best introduction to distemper painting.

To be continued…

Sosman & Landis: Shaping the Landscape of American Theatre. Employee No. 44 – George Roach

George Roach was responsible for the paint and glue preparation at Sosman & Landis’ main studio at the turn-of-the-twentieth century. This is an incredibly important job. The “color man” was the one who started each day, setting the artistic tone for the work. The success and longevity of every painted scene is not only based on paint application, but also paint preparation. Roach never headlined as a one of the studio’s premiere artists, but he may have been the most important individual at the studio during his time there.

Roach’s realm of color was located in the back corner of the Sosman & Landis paint shop, beneath a paint bridge. Bins of color, both dry and wet, were readily accessible at a moment’s notice. The pot of glue was always warm, ready to dilute and distribute for any artist in need.

The logistics of mass-producing distemper scenery during the late-nineteenth century and early-twentieth century is staggering. It is so much more than opening a few cans of premixed paint, mixing the correct color, and applying to the scene. Hours were spent transforming dry pigment into the perfect pulp, cooking glue, and preparing aniline dyes.

Those in charge of paint preparation had to be well-informed and well-organized; each task was based on an exact science. The color man at a studio also managed a legion of young assistants. These individuals, often referred to as paint boys, or pot boys, delivered a color man’s product. Their primary task was to fill individual pots of color on a designated artist’s palette. In addition to supplying color, they cleaned up after artists and completed a myriad of other unsavory tasks.

Former Sosman & Landis scenic artist, John Hanny described the Sosman & Landis painting process to Dr. John Rothgeb in a series of letters between 1976 and 1983. Hanny was employed at Sosman & Landis from approximately 1906 to 1920. In addition to providing written descriptions, Hanny also sent drawings to Dr. Rothgeb. In one letter, Hanny wrote, “Diagram of Palette. Approximately 6’-6” x 22” having 13 spaces for 5” old-fashioned deep soup bowls containing colors…these bowls contained dry colors mixed with water and stirred to a thick pulp.” Hanny also included a separate drawing entitled, “Diagram of Palette,” specifying the placement of Malachite Green, Chrome Green, Van Dyke Brown, Raw Umber, Dutch Pink. Yellow Ochre, Zinc White, Lemon Yellow, Orange Chrome, Turkey Red, Burnt Sienna, Rose Lake and Ultramarine Blue.

*Sosman & Landis Color Palette, ca. 1906-1920, drawn by John Hanny. Included with the John Rothgeb Papers, Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas, Austin.*

In his letter to Rothgeb, Hanny further explained, “Different artists may want to make some changes to fit their needs. I liked the suggested lay-out with yellows in the center, gradating in each direction to the blue areas at each end – like going around the color wheel.”

He then described the duties of paint boys at Sosman & Landis, writing, “When the artist wanted his palette cleaned, he called for a ‘swipe up’ which included having his palette washed with sponges, brushes cleaned, clean hot size, and strait edges wiped clean.”

George Roach was specifically mentioned by Randi Givercer Frank in her MA Thesis “The Sosman & Landis Studio: A Study of Scene Painting in Chicago, 1900-1925” (University of Texas at Austin, May 1979). Although her information is uncited, she likely included facts from Dr. Rothgebs’ interviews with both Hanny (c. 1906-1920) and Art Oberbeck (c. 1907-1915). I am including Frank’s excerpt about Roach in its entirety, as it paints a pretty good picture of his responsibilities at Sosman & Landis during their time there. It is also the only source that directly connects Roach to the Sosman & Landis studio:

“For years the person who prepared the studio each morning for the artists’ arrival was a Scotsman by the name of George Roach. He was called the ‘color ma’” and his job was to take care of the paint. The first thing he would do every morning was prepare fresh size which along with the glue would be kept warm all day. On cold winter nights the pulp colors would freeze, and Roach had to melt the ice from them so they would be in useable liquid form, He would also prepare the priming mixture of glue, whiting, and size. Before the whiting went into the mixture it had to soak in water over night. Roach was in charge of this also.

Roach then took care of the color bench. Distemper, dry pigment mixed with size, was the usual scene painting medium. Roach would grind the colors that were natural origin – ochre, raw sienna, and raw umber. He would burn the latter to make them darker and create the colors burnt sienna and burnt umber. Non earth colors like magenta were made from dye. These he mixed with white or some other base. The dry color was mixed with water into a thick, pulpy consistency, and Roach made sure that each of the five-gallon crocks were full. When the dry color ran low, Roach sent off to New York for more. Occasionally, he prepared dye for vaudeville scenery. Any activity that took place around the color bench was George Roach’s responsibility.”

Here is what I have located about Roach’s life and career to date:

George L. Roach (sometimes spelled “Roche”) was born in Albany, Rensselaer County, New York in June 1849. He was the son of a shoemaker and one of six children. His parents were Thomas J. and Mary J., both immigrants; his father emigrated from Ireland and his mother emigrated from Canada. By 1855, the Roach family had moved to the nearby town of Greenbush, also in Rensselaer County, New York.

George’s siblings were Margaret M. Roach (b. New York, b. 1846), Cornelia Roach Collins (b. Albany, 1847), James Roach (b. Albany, 1848), William H. Roach (b. Albany, b. 1856), and John M. Roach (b. Albany, 1860). At least three of his siblings moved west to Chicago, with brothers James and John entering the painting profession.

By 1870, George’s older sister Cornelia had married (George W. Collins) and moved west to Chicago. George soon followed, and initially lived with the Collins, working with his brother-in-law at a barbed-wire factory.

In 1880, George was boarding with his sister Cornelia (26 yrs.), brother-in-law George (35 yrs.), and their three children (George Jr., Frank and Alice). The household was located at 150 N. Peoria St., Chicago. The 1880 US Federal Census listed George Collins as an agent for the Barb Wire Co. George’s occupation was listed as “working” in the “barb wire works” industry. George only lived with the Collins for a few years, and by 1882 was living on his own. Boarding at 210 Aberdeen, he was still listed as a wireworker. George remained in this location for quite some time, even after marrying Elizabeth “Lizzie” Magor in 1881. Lizzie was a Canadian emigrate who arrived in the United States in 1870 and the two were married on October 20, 1881. The couple made their home at 212 ½ Aberdeen in Chicago for several years.

By this time, both of George’s brothers (James and Joh), were actively involved with the Chicago painting scene and living nearby. Meanwhile, George picked up a series of odd jobs that ranged from laborer to driver. The only public record listing George as a painter is from 1900. Likely, his two brothers convinced him to try the painting trade, connecting him with the Sosman & Landis studio sometime in the 1890s.

George and Lizzie celebrated the birth of eight children, yet only one survived to adulthood. Two were stillborn in 1893 and 1894, and their infant daughter, Mamie Roach, died in 1895 at the age of six months. Their fourth child to pass away was Henry; he died at the age of four in 1899. Three of the couple’s four remaining children passed away in 1900. Irene (age 10), Wilber (age 8), and Maria Lousia (age 7) all died before the US Federal Census was taken in 1900. Such an incredible loss in a very short period of time. Only their 9-yrs.-old daughter Clara survived. Clarice “Clara” Evangeline Roach (b. Sept 13, 1891) was the only child living with George and Lizzie Roach in the 1900 Census. She lived a long life; not passing away until Feb. 12, 1982.

In 1900, the Roaches were living at 532 Homan Avenue in Chicago. The 1900 US Federal Census listed George’s occupation as a “painter.” It was at this time that he was likely employed by Sosman & Landis. It also correlates with the recollection of Hanny and Oberbeck who both started between 1906 and 1907. By the time they started Roach would have been a mainstay at the studio as “color man.”

Unfortunately, the 1900 census is the last historical record that I have been able to locate for George Roach. Some genealogical records also suggest that George’s death occurred in 1907, the same year that his wife died. I am skeptical of the date, especially as there is no official death certificate, obituary listing, or gravestone near his wife.

Initially, I was convinced that Lizzie died on September 3, 1907; buried at Mt. Carmel Catholic Cemetery in Hillside, Cook County, Illinois, three days later. The grave of Elizabeth Roach is located in Section O Block 2 Lot 41. Information in the Illinois State Death Index also notes that at the time of her death she was married and living at 1705 N. Sawyer Ave., Chicago’s 27^th ward. Elizabeth shares the same birth year and birth location as Lizzie Roach, suggesting that this really was George’s wife. The absence of George’s grave is also explainable, and my first thought was than he wasn’t a Catholic, and therefore could not be buried next to his wife in a Catholic Cemetery. Another reason for the absence of George’s grave nearby may have been financial. If George and Lizzie died the same year, they left a 16-yrs.-old daughter who was likely unemployed. Clara may not have been able to pay for a proper burial, grave stone, or obituary notice. By 1910, however, Clara was living by herself and working in a retail dry goods store. She married a few years later, moving to California. On Dec. 10, 1912, the “San Francisco Call” announced Clara’s marriage: “Fagan-Roche – Herbert E. S. Fagan, 25 Oakland, and Clarice E. Roche, 21 Chicago, Ill.”

There was one other record that I encountered that made me question the actual date of both Lizzie and George Roach death in 1907.

On May 31, 1906, the “Chicago Tribune” reported:

“ROACH – The remains of Lizzie Roach will be buried from the vault at Mount Olivet cemetery Thursday, May 31, 1906, at 1:30 p.m., formerly of 6626 Drexel-av” (page 12). Mount Olivet was also a Catholic Cemetery located on the south side of Chicago, established in 1885. There is no listing for any Roach grave that fits the description of Lizzie, George or any of their children at Mount Olivet. This does not mean that all 142,000 people buried at the cemetery are included in the current online database, especially when I think of unmarked or illegible grave stones. Cemetery databases are often incomplete.

I remain uncertain of George Roach’s death in 1907 and dearly wish that Rani Givercer Frank had cited the information about him in her MA thesis. My gut instinct says that Roach did not die in 1907 and continued to work at Sosman & Landis for at least another five years. I would bet that he was at the studio from 1895 until WWI. This would have made an impression on both Hanny and Oberbeck, since they started about the time of Roach’s purported passing.

I will update this post if more information comes to light.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 1131 – Thomas G. Moses in Tacoma, Washington, 1921-1922

In 1921 Thomas G. Moses landed the scenery contract for the Tacoma Scottish Rite. Of the project, he wrote, “It took some work to close the Tacoma job at $6,400.00. Will come back to do the work myself.” He was to start the Tacoma Scottish Rite project at the beginning of December 1921, but he had to put out a few fires before leaving Chicago that winter. Moses wrote, “I should have been back in Tacoma December 1^st. I have written them on the cause of my delay.”

He had a very short period of time to accomplish a lot of tasks in the main studio before leaving town, and there were stops to make along the way. Too much to do in too little time; a theme that I am certainly familiar with these days. Moses and his wife did not leave Chicago until Dec. 13, spending a full day in Kansas City before continuing onto Los Angeles. Then there was another stop in San Francisco, where Moses took the boat across the bay and headed east to Stockton. He hoped to close another contract, but had no such luck.

Of his side trip to Stockton, Moses wrote, “Took the boat back again and left for the north the same day. We had a very pleasant trip. Found a lot of snow in the north on our arrival in Tacoma. We found our apartment all ready for us and it is very cozy.” He was in town to paint scenery for the Scottish Rite Theatre, but also planned on doing a little oil painting in his spare time. Moses, continued, “I found we needed another room for a studio, which I got, and it is going to be a good asset to my picture painting. The most glorious view of the mountain at sunrise, noon, sunset and an hour after sunset. I have finally got to work and while it is going to be a long job, I will enjoy doing it, and incidentally getting some good sketches of the mountain.”

His stay in Tacoma with Ella must have been a wonderful break from both travel and responsibilities associated Sosman & Landis. It was a new project, a new year, and he was surrounded by beautiful scenery. One of his favorite compositions to paint was the nearby Mount Rainier. In 1889, he recorded his first glimpse of the mountain, also known as Mount Shasta, writing, “My first view of Mt. Shasta I shall never forget. It was sunset and all the foreground and middle distance was in shadow. Made a rapid pencil sketch and have since painted it in watercolor and oil, with some success.”

At the onset of 1922, Moses wrote, “January 1^st found the Madam and I enjoying ourselves in Tacoma, Washington. I had the Scottish Rite Temple work pretty well started, went back to the old theatre to work. I was there and painted one of my famous drop curtains.” Moses was referring to the Tacoma Theatre. Moses and Ed Loitz painted the stock scenery for the venue in 1889-1890. Here is the link to my past post about this project: https://drypigment.net2017/09/28/tales-from-a-scenic-artist-and-scholar-acquiring-the-fort-scott-scenery-collection-for-the-minnesota-masonic-heritage-center-part-222-thomas-g-moses-and-the-tacoma-theatre/

Of his drop curtain from 1889, Moses wrote, “As I look at it now, it is hard to realize that I painted it 33 years ago. The scene is in Rome, “Temple of Minerva.” It has a richness of color that we are not able to get now on account of the inferiority quality of the colors. I found my old palette, which gave me a rather uncanny chill, to think that after so many years, it should be waiting for my return.”

*Temple of Minerva Drop Curtain for the Tacoma Theatre, 1889-1890*

The Temple of Minerva was a popular subject for nineteenth-century scene painters. In 1881, an article in “Building News and Engineering Journal,” listed the Temple of Minerva as one of the many compositions painted by scenic artists, showing their versatility of subject matter. The journal’s article was entitled, “Art on The Stage,” and it appeared in the issue on July 29, 1881. Here is an excerpt with the Temple of Minerva mention:

“Scene Painting is an art by itself. There is no other branch of painting just like it, either in the variety of subjects embraced or in the methods employed. The thorough scenic artist must be equally at home in landscape or marine work, architectural or fresco. He is not permitted to cultivate any particular branch of his art, nor any favorite style. He must be able to produce, at any time, the wild mountainous passes of Switzerland or the flat meadows of Holland; the green lanes of homelike England, or the winding valleys of romantic Spain. In his architectural work he cannot devote himself to the Gothic or the Romanesque, but must be equally master of the Moorish, the Greek, and the Oriental. He may to-day be called upon to paint the Temple of Minerva, and to-morrow the Mosque of Omar; this week the Windsor Hotel, and next week the Palace of Versailles. His art knows no boundaries, and his scope is confined by no limits. The universe must be at his command, and things unseen must live in his imagination. The methods by which he works and many of the materials he employs are altogether different from those employed by the ordinary oil or water-colour painter. They approach more nearly to those of the latter, yet even here certain qualities of the colours used by the scene-painter constitute a sharp dividing line.”

Moses’ Temple of Minerva Drop Curtain for the Tacoma Theater was also featured on the front page of “The Palette & Chisel” Club newsletter in 1917. It accompanied and article entitle, “Thomas G. Moses, All Round Scene Painter. His Work is Known from Coast to Coast.”

Here is the introductory paragraph that says so much about his scene painting work:

“Now this article is about an artist whose work has been viewed by more people that ever entered the Art Institute and the Metropolitan Museum since their doors were first opened….probably. And those people paid good round sums to get in where the artist’s work was displayed. You don’t believe that, now do you? Well, then, when I also tell you that this artist painted stage settings for Booth and Barrett, Thomas Keene, McCullough and all that ranting crew of Shakespearian heavies, you will get the pint, of course. And of course, you will think this is just another one of those anniversary obituaries dedicated to some duck that passed out about the time everyone was singing…well, whatever they were singing when real fur bearing men wore flannel night shirts.

Far from that howsumever, the gallant lad immortalized in this rhetorical garland is cheerfully employed just now in packing his sketching trunk for a paint spree in Zion National Park. And incidentally, going and coming he intends to put on the old corduroys with a brace of big theatrical contracts in Salt Lake City and Oakland, California. That is, this venerable old relic will paint the sets himself, and with Uncle Tom that means about ten hours a day on the paint bridge, and ninety days to each job. Isn’t it sad how fragile and inefficient these old timers are becoming! Tom says it bothers him a right smart now to paint a 45×50 drop in one day. What? Hell, no….FEET!”

When the article was written, Moses was sixty-one years old. Four years later in 1921, he was still working at a breakneck speed and tackling entire stock scenery projects.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 1111 – “Art vs. Skill,” by Henry C. Tryon, 1883

From 1882 to 1884, Henry C. Tryon (1847-1892) worked and wrote in the Salt Lake City area. As a scenic artist and author, Tryon’s name constantly appeared in the papers. In addition to painting new scenery during the Salt Lake Theatre stage renovation, Tryon also exhibited much of his easel art. He was in the perfect town to market himself. The “Salt Lake Daily Herald” published articles on a variety of artistic activities, including art exhibitions, theatrical productions and other creative ponderings in detail. In some ways this newspaper carried more information about theatrical productions and stage artists than many larger metropolitan publications across the country.

In 1883, an article on art exhibitions noted, “Henry C. Tryon stated when he came here, that he had never seen a range of mountains that afforded better opportunities” (9 Aug 1883, page 8). On May 18, 1883, “The Salt Lake Herald,” reported “Mr. Henry C. Tryon is at work on an oil painting which he has already presented to Mr. H. B. Clawson. It is a landscape in oil and is a gem much to be desired” (page 8). That spring, newspapers also reported, “Speaking of matters of art reminds us that Mr. Henry C. Tryon is still hard at work on scenery for the Salt Lake Theatre…There will not be a foot of old canvas in the building when Tryon leaves for pastures new…We congratulate Mr. Tryon, and are pleased to see the interest he takes in all that he does; and if the work referred to above is not art in its truest sense, then we would be happy to know just what art is” (Salt Lake Daily Herald, 22 April 883, page 12). Tryon was completely a large stock scenery collection, painting fine art pieces for local citizens and taking time to write on a variety of artistic subjects during the first half of 1883.

He submitted several articles to the “Salt Lake Daily Herald” throughout 1883. In his article, “Artistic Flashes,” he ended with the statement, “Don’t falsify nature by attempting, with your petty vanity, to improve upon her work. You will fail, because nature as an artist is pre-eminently superior to you” (9 Feb 1883, page 3).

On Sunday, August 12, 1883, he elaborated on this sentiment in Tryon’s “Art vs Skill.” Here is the article in its entirety:

ART vs. SKILL

By HENRY C. TRYON

There is a story familiar to most people of two rival artists, whose relative merits were disputed by their several admirers. To settle the dispute, they engaged in a friendly contest. On painted some fruit and put it in the window. It was so skillfully executed that the birds tried to get at this fruit. The other then had his picture ready and draped. His rival, attempting to raise the curtain that covered the supposed picture, learned that it was a clever deception being a skillfully painted representation of a cloth. The first artist exclaimed enthusiastically, “You are the greater artist: for, while I deceived only the birds, you have deceived an artist.”

This story, like most of those written about artists, is the verist nonsense. Two artists are not likely to enter into a “go-as-you-please” contest, nor to put on gloves to try which is the better man for a prize medal and the applause of the public. That always has been left to public performers and to mountebanks. By assuming the story to be true, it is no proof that either of them was an artist in a real sense. It proves nothing whatever. The popular idea of art is that skill, imitation, projection and perspective are the ends of all efforts in art; and that a work of art practically is to be judges by the skill shown in these directions, with a kind of vague idea that sentiment of color, tone, harmony, force, tenderness and feeling are but a means intended for the connoisseur to “ring them in,” – as one would pretty talk, which may be thrown in indiscriminately.

An artist, for instance, paints a street scene. It matters not how inartistic and mechanical the scene may be, nor how harsh and crude may be the color, if the perspective and light and shadow be correct, the average observer will look upon the scene as a marvelous work, for ‘It appears to reach back for a mile,’ and his surprise and wonder at this success overcomes any other feeling. This misunderstanding of the aim and object of true art prevents him from being even critical or even interested in anything beyond. Yet all this is a mechanical success, pure and simple. That linear perspective has no art quality of itself, and is not even difficult of attainment, all artists know who know anything about it. It is the same with projection. Draw an object and cast shadow from it, and it will apparently project from the paper. Anybody can do it. So, with imitation.

Every portrait painter knows the necessity of not painting laces or jewels or other flippant accessories with too much realism, else the general observer (who imagines imitation to be the greatest achievement) will never see the face at all. A certain eminent artist in painting a subject introduced in the picture a mat. After the attention of a few people had been fastened on that mat and they had analyzed its material, texture, and probably cost per yard, in disgust he painted it over, so that nobody afterward would think of it except that it was a mat, and pass on to the real picture – the material which made up the sentiment and the story he desired to express. Suppose a person in describing in writing the wonderful grandeur and beauty of the Wasatch range, should pause lovingly in the description of some pig pen, making this description so vivid and realistic that the total impression remained with the reader that it was a picture of a pig pen with an accessory of Wasatch mountains. What would the reader think? (assuming the purpose of this piece of literature was to convey a sentiment of the grandeur of the mountains) It is exactly so with art; mere imitation requires nothing but a little knowledge, more practice, and more or less patience; but these qualities alone do not make an artist; they simply enable an artist to express art feeling. The mere mechanical ability to touch the right keys on a piano in the translation of a musical composition, does not make a musician. It merely enables one to express musical thought and feeling, if he has it; and if he has it not, he is recognized by musicians as a musical artist, but is considered a musical mechanic. We all understand what is meant by “machine poetry.” The rhyme and the metre maybe faultless, but if it contains no grand beautiful or ennobling thought, it is recognized by all as mere verse; and there is all the difference in the world between verse and poetry. Literature and the arts are precisely similar in their objects. The poet paints with language, the musician with harmonies, the sculptor and draughtsman forms. The arts are so intimately blended that the mechanical phrases even are the same throughout. Who does not feel what is meant by color as applied to musical composition, and tenderness, strength, feeling and harmony as applied to painting? Follow the terms used in all the aria and they can be applied indiscriminately to each. Art is poetry, or it is nothing. If a picture, painted never so skillfully has nothing in it except the skill and knowledge of the artist, and does not contain poetic feeling, or is in any purpose or poetic cause why should it be painted, it ranks as a work of art, no higher than a piece of literature produced for the sole object of showing the author’s knowledge of words and of the grammatical arrangement of them.

A picture should be painted to express some of the sentiment (and assuming that that has been successfully accomplished) the nobility, purity and beauty of that sentiment will determine the position of the picture as a work of art. What is generally considered to be the end of art is properly the means to an end; the real end depends upon the genius of the artist. It is always conceded that an artist thoroughly understands the mechanical means to art (before mentioned), just as it is presupposed that an author understands grammatical rules and the skillful construction of sentences. When each is thus equipped, then he has within his grasp all that is required to give expression to high thoughts and sublime images; but unless the genius – the spirit of poetry – is inherent, he can only give to the world that which time, patience and perseverance will do for any intelligent person.”

*Detail of brushed used for scenic art.*

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 1104 – Henry C. Tryon, Thomas G. Moses and John H. Young in West Virginia, 1885

In 1884, Henry C. Tryon joined the Sosman & Landis studio staff in Chicago as replacement for Lemuel L. Graham. “Lem” had left for Kansas City to open a regional branch there. At the time, John H. Young was also working for Sosman & Landis, but primarily painting at the firm’s New York studio.

*Henry C. Tryon pictured in the “Inter Ocean,” Feb. 28, 1886, page 9.*

*John H. Young pictured in the “Inter Ocean,” Feb. 28, 1886, page 9.*

*Thomas G. Moses pictured in the “Inter Ocean,” Feb. 28, 1886, page 9.*

Of Tryon’s arrival at Sosman & Landis, Moses wrote, “he enthused Young and I more than anyone ever had. He was a pupil of Thos. Moran and James and William Hart and was very clever, but awfully eccentric.”

In October 1885, Moses, Young and Tryon journeyed to West Virginia on a sketching trip. The full story was published in the “Palette & Chisel Club” newsletter years later. Today’s post is a series of excerpts about Tryon from Moses’ story. It provides ten sort scenes that give us a glimpse into Tryon’s personality on the sketching trip:

1. Moses wrote, “I certainly enjoyed talking on any subject with Tryon. He was very strong on politics, which did not particularly interest me. He was very interesting when it came to anything on art. He had been a pupil of Thomas Moran. Tryon told this story: He had bothered Moran for some time trying to induce Moran to take him on as a pupil. Moran was too much of a gentleman to throw Tryon out of his studio, so he finally took an old canvas, slapped on a lot of color with a palette knife, handed it to Tryon and said: “Take home that, make a picture out of the accidentals and bring it back in a week.” Moran felt that Tryon would throw the canvas away and not come back. The week-end found Tryon back and Moran was so well pleased with the result that he took Tryon in as a pupil, which was very beneficial to Tryon who followed Moran’s style of work even into his scenic painting, as well as his oil. He enjoyed telling this story; he surely must have made a good picture of Moran’s accidentals.”

2. Moses wrote, “We went through a number of tunnels and one, which was over a mile in length, was at a town called Tunneltown. We were now in West Virginia, on the Cheat River. The color was wonderful; the extreme blue of the distant mountains gave the whole landscape a most brilliant opalescent effect. Tryon was simply wild with joy, jumping from one side of the car to the other and calling me “There look a that, isn’t it wonderful! Aren’t you glad that you came? Did you ever see such color”? We both felt like jumping off; at every turn we could see a picture. As we neared Piedmont, West Virginia, the scenery became wilder and more colorful.”

3. Moses wrote, “While we were waiting for our dinner, and were all seated on the big porch, Tryon was seized with stomach cramps. Mr. Elkins noticed Tryon’s groaning and said, “Mr. Tryon, if you will go up to Room 3 you will find a black grip; open it and right on top you will find a cure for stomach trouble.” Tryon did this and came down feeling better, thanked Mr. Elkins, and within fifteen minutes had another cramp. Mr. Elkins said, “Go after it again, Tryon,” and he did. This time he must have taken a good long one, for it seemed to settle him.”

4. Moses wrote, “The General Store at Schell was some store and included the post office. Back of that was the living-room and kitchen and there were three rooms upstairs. Tryon and I occupied one of these. John Young joined us here and entered into the spirit of the outing. The evening of Young’s arrival we were all in the store. Young was stretched out on the counter, with his head resting in the scoop of the scales, and Tryon, with his immense meerschaum, was hitting it up like an engine. We missed the talkative huntsman, but everyone here was interested in us and our work because Mr. Elkins had told them who we were. We had two beds in our room, but had to pass through a room occupied by the landlord’s son. If he happened to be awake when we retired, Tryon would always stop and talk with him. The landlord was an infidel, which pleased Tryon, for it gave him the opportunity to assist in tearing all of the religions of the world into shreds. In one way, Tryon did not believe all he said. I believe he only wanted a chance to argue.”

5. Moses wrote, “The eccentric antics of Tryon seemed to amuse the natives. He very seldom had breakfast with Young and me; we would usually be out sketching an hour before he showed up. We found one fine place not more than a quarter of a mile from the store, across the river, which, at this point, was very narrow and awfully swift. We had a small boat which we used in crossing this turbulent stream, and we had to be very careful to avoid being dashed to pieces against the big rocks. By going upstream some distance we could ford across, and Young, with his long legs could jump across from rock to rock, but he preferred the boat. On the other side we found all kinds of sketches.”

6. Moses wrote, “During the night a heavy thunderstorm passed over us, and the wind through the big pine and hemlock trees, together with the constant baying of the hounds, made the night one of unpleasant dreams. Tryon and I had a double room. As he was very careless with his clothes – the floor was better than a chair – he stepped on his derby hat. A fine kind of hat to take on a sketching trip! Strips of paper glued to the inside of it put it in good working shape again.”

7. Moses wrote, “On a trip to Blackwater Falls we experienced a hard battle to get through the laurel, not so much ourselves as the unwieldy stools, easels and paint boxes, which managed to get caught at every other step, sorely impeding our progress. On reaching the brink of the Falls we discovered a very precipitous bank, impossible of descent. We made a couple of sketches up the river from the brink, then tried to figure out some way to get below, for that was the sketch we wanted. Tryon was not quite through with his sketch, but agreed to follow us, so Young and I forged ahead down the river, trying to find a place to crawl down. We went fully a mile before we found an opening; then the walk back to the falls was pretty hard – mostly over rocks in midstream, which was madly rushing over and around them. It was hard to keep our feet from slipping on the wet stones. On reaching the bottom of the Falls we were surprised to find Tryon calmly sketching and smoking his big pipe and quietly giving us the merry “Ha! Ha!” We were quite anxious to know how he did it. He explained that he had come down on a big pine tree which grew within three feet of the bank and was fully sixty feet high. He had dropped his stool and easel before going down himself. For a wonder, nothing was broken; they just happened to fall on a lot of moss and leaves. One look at his clothes, face and hands proved that he had paid the price, but he did not mind that. The pleasure of beating his two young students (as he always called us) was all he cared for. The effort of getting down and back was offset by the good sketches we had made. On returning we asked Tryon why he did not return the same way he had dropped into the pocket. He looked at the big tree, shook his head – then went back with us.”

8. Moses wrote, “Another long tramp into the wilderness brought us to the head of the north branch of the Potomac, a spring as little known as the source of the River Nile. We tramped through jungles. Forded streams and climbed precipices until I gave out and had to rest and take the good-natured jibes of Tryon and Young. After a good rest, in which my tramping friends participated, we pushed onto the Potomac. It is a narrow powerful stream; a number of cataracts, in a series of eleven bold leaps, are a shining flood down the mountain side; gloomy chasms open from either side, dense, dark laurel thickets choke every approach, but through all the vigorous, bright stream leaps and shouts with a mad joy as it forces, its way on to the ocean. In the early spring this stream must be very powerful as is indicates by the amount of good-sized logs and debris of all kinds piled up on the banks, at present out of reach of the water which, at this season of year, is clear and cold.”

9. Moses wrote, “When we three were working together there was a constant stream of talk, not always about art. Tryon was very fond of an argument. One instance: In painting a rock in the water, the wet part of the rock, being so much darker, forms a sharp line on the top of the water. Young and I had always painted a light line – Tryon proved to us that the line was dark and water threw a shadow on the rock. He would lie on his back for hours studying the light coming through the eaves of a red maple. At that time of year the color was fine. He succeeded in making a very effective sketch; the undertone was fine and the cool, grey lights were very effective.”

10. Moses wrote, “At this time, Tryon was very much in love with a schoolteacher in Haverhill, Massachusetts, whose name was Hattie. He promised to write her every day and she had promised to reciprocate. So we spent the evening writing letters to our dear ones.”

Tryon’s relationship with Hattie was announced earlier that summer in the “Salt Lake Herald.” On June 18, 1884, the newspaper reported, “Henry C. Tryon, the scenic artist, wrote from Haverhill, Mass., that he is about to perpetuate matrimony, and he sends a photo of the beautiful lady whom he designates as the victim. In gazing at the picture and thinking of Henry, we wonder how he was able to “work the act” (page 8).

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 1099 – Robert Hopkin, Painter

Detroit scenic artists, Robert Hopkin and his son William G. Hopkin, traveled west in 1881 to paint scenery for the Tabor Grand Opera House and the Grand Opera House in Colorado Springs. Representing the Chicago firm J. B. Sullivan & Bro., they created similar drop-curtains for each stage. My interest in Hopkin is two-fold: first and foremost, his connection to the Tabor Grand Opera House in Denver, and secondly, his mentorship of Thomas G. Moses in the 1870s.

*Robert Hopkin pictured in an article published in the Detroit Free Press on September 23, 1906.*

On Sept. 23, 1906, the “Detroit Free Press” published an article about the life and career of “Robert Hopkin, Painter” by John Hubert Greusel. He passed away only three years later. I am including this article in its entirety, as it provides great insight into the nineteenth-century generation of scenic artists who trained the generation of Thomas G. Moses.

“ROBERT HOPKIN, PAINTER

Robert Hopkin’s pipe kept going out. Every few minutes, he would go to the corner of his studio, tear a leaf out of a magazine, twist the paper and set it on fire at a gas-burner, and so get a fresh fire for his pipe. Many times during the afternoon he kept that up. It was chat, smoke, show pictures, hunt through albums, delve into portfolios.

The artist looks like a sailor; collar open at the neck, weather-beaten face, silvery gray hair close-cropped, straightforward, candid man, who has nothing to say of his ambitions.

I could scarcely believe Robert Hopkin to be the master of that wonderful chiaroscuro of the sea, visible in many paintings which, one after the other, he placed on the easel. He appeared to me more like one of those rough and ready sailormen that he paints with fidelity; and as he examined the relics in the corners, Bob reminded of Jack looking over souvenirs of voyages taken years ago. He showed me a wooden soup-box filled with odds and ends, and fished out photographs to men prominent in Detroit forty years ago; reads scraps of poetry; studied forgotten theatrical programs, and I know not what else.

He always kept smoking his briar pipe which just as persistently kept going out and had to be relighted, with the twisted papers.

SOUVENIRS OF HOPKIN’S HISTORY

Robert Hopkin still has the sure touch of his younger days, the breadth of the distinguished Dutch marine-painters. Many of his scenes on the Great Lakes resemble the work of famous sea-painters along the Zuyder Zee and are at the islands of Marken and Monnickendam.

Bob tells me that he grew up on the Detroit wharves, passed through an apprenticeship in mixing colors for decorators, drifted to scene painting, and finally made easel pictures. As he finished around in his boxes and albums for souvenirs of his early life, at last he brought up a faded photograph of the first drop-curtain of the Detroit Opera House. The theme was an allegorical landscape surrounded by Corinthian columns, supporting a flat arch – an arch that builders always said was impossible. But a fig cared Bob, the scenic artist, for these mechanical criticisms. He also showed me a drawing of the second curtains, bearing the familiar lines:

So fleet the works of men back to their earth again

Ancient and holy things fade like a dream

And Bob with a merry laugh told me that George Goodale used to be worried half to death to satisfy curious letter-writers, who wanted to know where the quotation came from. The dwellers along the English Channel, says Bob, held a fete each year to scrub a great white horse, carved in chalk cliffs; and Kingsley’s lines are found in the opening of the description.

SMELL OF THE SEA

Once in a while, Bob makes pictures that are not for sale, paints ‘em for himself. No one is to have ‘em! He is that much od an artist. He spoke of “The Kelp-Gathers,” one of his favorites. But he did not show it to me. He is peculiar that way. He may bring out his pictures or he may keep them stacked up. He did hunt out a green-covered book, “The Land of Lorne,” and gravely handed it to me. On the title page, I read, “To Robert Hopkin from his friend Mylne, March 3, 1879. Mylne was one of Bob’s earliest admirer’s Some day you may see a picture by Wenzel, three men talking, called “The Council of War.” One is Bob, the other is William Mylne, the artist, and the third is George W. Clark, lawyer, cronies, all dead now, except, Bob. Wenzel, a society cartoonist, and the best, put patent leather shoes on Bob. Bob smiled as I showed it to him. He himself always wears old carpet slippers in his studio at this time of year.

How many pictures has Robert Hopkin made? He does not know. He has never kept a studio register. His plain ways were shown when he brought out an album, photographs of his paintings. Under one, here and there, was written in lead pencil, Mr. Muir, Mr. Robinson, Mr. Chittenden, Mr. Clark. That is his style of bookkeeping.

BOB’S DELIGHT

“Have a pipe?” He brought out paper and tobacco for me. Have I ever read “White Wings, a Yachting Romance,” by William Black? Bob again visited that mysterious rear-room and returned with a copy of “The Princess of Thule.” I opened it at random and leaning back in the tall old horse-hair upholstered chair, began reading the first thing.”

“A dreary sky, a dreary fall of rain. Long low flats covered their own damp breath through which the miserable cattle loomed like shadows. Everywhere, lakes and pools, as thickly sown amidst the land as islands amid Pacific waters. Huts, wretched and chilly, scarcely discernible from the rock-strewn marshes surrounding them. To the east, the Minch, rolling dismal waters toward the far off headlands of Skye; to the west, the ocean, foaming at the lips, and stretching barren and desolate into the rain-charged clouds.”

I have no doubt that the sea and the storm and the wind came back to the venerable artist, as I read on and on. He had never followed the sea, he told me, but some of his ancestors were seafaring people around the isle of Bule and the boy was a frequent visitor at the home of his grandfather, a sea captain of Rothsay, who took little Bob on many of his short coasting trips. He has spent his Boyhood in Glasgow, has seen the ships around the world, and wished to go to sea. At 11, with his father, Bob came to Detroit and has been here for 60 years, barring cruises here and there. In the early days he was never away from the wharves; worked in the shipyard at the foot of Cass street, knew the sailors, riggers and owners. He did boat-painting but soon drifted to scene painting and color work for Tuttle & Patton, the late William Wright, Dean Godfrey & Co. In 1871, Bob went over to Chicago, was burned out, came back to Detroit, began easel-work and has followed it ever since for pure love.

Suddenly, turning the talk, he asked me if I had seen that moonlight, last night, coming down from the Flats? It was fine, the moon on the red buoys, and the light through the clouds. He might paint it, sometime. And then, in his quiet, unimportant way, he went on to tell me that he could carry these pictures in his mind for a long time. He thinks in pictures, the way other men think in figures or in vague flashes. Bob’s mind is like a picture-book.

That he is filled with the mystery and witchery if the sea was easily seen, and it was not long before he was saying that he didn’t wonder sailors were superstitious, often imagined they saw ghosts and goblins. The lonesome life at seas appeals to Bob’s imagination. It was plain that he had been under the spell, many of time.

COLOR

He spoke of clipper-built ships as the finest every built by man.

Last year, he took a trip to Scotland, went on a slow boat, he said, so that it would last longer. The Irish channel is rough all the time. But Bob is never seasick.

Ireland is righty named the Green Isle. The mists hang over it and keep the sun from burning up the grass. In Scotland, it’s the same. The figs are fine. The dark glen of Scotland famed in poetry, is also fine, to the artist’s eye. In Ireland there is so much color. Women in the back countries dress in bright tints. A long way off, the Irish girl’s red hood and cloak is visible. In America the only people that still have a touch of color in their daily loves are Syrians and the Italian immigrants. How pretty they are with their rings and their bright shawls. Civilization robs them soon of these gay colors.

Bob smokes and talks like that. There is no haste. It takes a long time.

Did I tell you that Bob, who is a plain main, dresses plainly and sticks to boots, like those worn in Detroit 40 years ago?

You learn, slowly, more things. Bob will never put a brush to canvas while anyone is near. He works alone. He has no secrets but he doesn’t want anyone around.

If he hears that you are going to say a word or two of his work, he begins to fidget, objects, backs away, shuts the door of his studio and draws in the latch-string.

And beyond all other things, he hates newspaper notices – despises them.

The most money he ever received for a painting was $2,300; – Cotton Exchange, New Orleans. The worst treatment he ever had was at the Centennial of 1876. Through a mistake Bob’s picture was hung in the Michigan building, instead of in the art gallery. That sickened Bob of exhibits. He hasn’t bothered himself to send anything to any of them for years. Some years ago he was asked to exhibit in the Royal Academy, England. “What’s the use? Too much trouble! What’s it all amount to anyway?” says Bob.

He has a memory for technique. If he ever sees a scrap of canvas; well, he’ll know it again, after years. The other day, a friend found something in a second-hand store and asked Bob to take a look. Bob did so and the friend bought, on Bobs recommendation. On cleaning the painting, the name Bob had predicted was found there. The picture was by a Canadian artist of renown, but his works are known to only a few collectors. Bob had seen only one, years before. He knew the style almost at a glance.

IMPRESSIONIST

As for art, he is an impressionist, not in any high technical or extreme sense, but in the simple meaning, to reproduce and impression; to see something, in your own way. Many years before impressionism became the vogue or before we knew one school from another, he went direct to nature’s heart for his school and his instruction and took for himself and his school all that was good without being an extremist in impressionism. His teacher was Mother Nature; his school, the seas. He paints as he breathes, that is to say, naturally as you wink you eyes. What more is there to be said?

He is likely to get up at 4 in the morning and go to the wharves. Sunset often finds him strolling about, looking at the river.

He does not paint in open air. He makes sketches, perhaps adding a dab of color, for a key. He scribbles notes of backgrounds, or color scheme. The actual spirit of the scene he keeps in his heart.

Mcedag [sp?], the great Hollander, who paints everything thought the window of his studio, which opens over the sea, has one, perhaps two moods. Hopkin has as many moods as the sea has lights and shadow. You see his ships in a heavy storm, in a fair wind, in a dead calm, in moonlight. He knows all the caprices of the sea, He paints them all.

One day, his paintings are going to come into their own.

INSIGHT

Newspaper waifs of verse appeal to Bob. One day, Charles L. Clark read Bob a newspaper poem on ocean’s wonderous caves. That was enough! Bob painted them. On another day Bob read a bit of newspaper poetry entitled “The Graveyard by the Sea.” It told of a strange thing that the sea does somewhere on an unchartered coast, buries the dead in the crawling sands, heaps up the sands, while the storm sings in requiem. Bob was amazingly caught by the conception. In his mind’s eye he already saw it all. In the Detroit Museum of Art you will find a painting called “The Graveyard by the Sea.”

The graveyard by the Sea-

Where ocean breezes sweep across the restless deep.

It stands, with headstones quaint, with sculpture rude.

Robert Hopkin is touched by the pathos of the sea, the forlorn lives of toilers.

Bob has always been amiable in business. What does he care? Hasn’t he enough for himself? To begin with, he lacks the self-conceit of artists and musicians. For publicity or art criticism he cares absolutely nothing. He prefers to let his paintings tell their own story. Who is the man, that called today? A writer do you say? And he is going to say something of me in the paper? This will never do. Is there not some way to stop him?

Bob will avoid all his cronies for a week after reading wat is told of him here, today. It will cause him a bad quarter of an hour.

BOB’S STUDIO

It’s not the conventional studio with bronze lamps, bright silks, divans, mirrors and statuary. Bob’s place is a loft where a painter works; and the corners are stacked with stuff.

His atelier is in the rear of this house, No. 247 First street. A brick barn, reached by a stairs, with two turns. A hall, a wooden door of undressed lumber, black with age. An old-fashioned latch-string. A room perhaps 10×12, divided from another room of equal size. A blackened skylight, under which is the easel, on which is a picture of a full-rigged ship at sea. Here’s where you find Robert Hopkin.

Bob keeps a tiny point of gas burning for a pipe-lighter. He uses it often, for his pipe has a way of going out unexpectedly.

A base-burner with a long pipe stands in plain view and on the pipe someone has drawn a skull and cross bones. IN the corner, are two stone jugs, tubes of color, pipes, tobacco, a large mirror and above is the motto, in old English text, “Cheerful Company Gladdens the Hour.”

WORLD A PICTURE BOOK

The world to him is a picture book of the sea. We are coming to it, little by little. He is a man that grows on you. You must wait for him to reveal himself. He goes with his paint box and brushes and paints his seas. He does it not for money or for glory and never bothers his head over formal prattle. Bob tried symphonies in greens, greys and blues, on gold background, long before Whistler was known to fame. Bob had painted in the various schools, but he is not an impressionist, or realist, or an schoolman, or any stylist. He is himself. He paints the sea in his own way. When he shuts the door of his studio, he might as well be out at sea. He is alone, with his thoughts. The ship is in the harbor ready to sail. There is a fair wind and the tide is strong. The sails are set and she starts on her voyage.

Where does he get his knowledge of light? Why is the sea a mystery to him – a mystery yet an open book. The seas is his friend and confidant, because he loves the sea. He makes the waves roll, Storm or sunshine, and always that wonderful atmosphere of the sea – the old man puts them in his canvas. As he paints it, the sea loves. The ships all but sail out of the water. His pictures are all of flesh and blood people, hard-handed men and women who have to struggle to earn their daily bread. It is not the statuesque Barbizon peasantry, but he larger unidealized and yet idealized race, as Hopkin sees the people of the sea.

Robert Hopkin, master marine painter, seems to have a hand too large to be restrained by convention; that hand is therefore guided over the canvas by a sort of intuitive constructive imagination, restrained but not lost in the knowledge of the practical sailor.

The serious old man is there beside you, smoking his briar pipe. He is the sailorman and the artist; his shirt collar is open at the neck, his big sunburned hands rest in his lap. He is come home from the sea to tell us another story. Look upon him well; study his weather-beaten face and kindly eyes; – for among the world’s great marine painters you may not soon see his like again.

“Come up and have a smoke again, some day,” he tells me as I shake hands at the studio door.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 1071 – “Modern Tendencies in Scenic Vesting of the Theater,” P. Dodd Ackerman, 1921

From “New York Tribune,” 27 March 1921, page 48.

P. Dodd Ackerman’s name appeared in dozens of newspapers across the country in 1921. On March 27, 1921, Ackerman was featured in an article entitled “Modern Tendencies in Scenic Vesting of the Theater” (New York Tribune, 27 March 1921, page 48). The article announced, “‘The day of the trick scenic investiture of plays is over. The futurist, the cubist and other reactionary painters of scenery have had their day, short-lived though it was, and are passing,’ said P. Dodd Ackerman, one of the leading American scenic artists.” The article continued:

“Mr. Ackerman has served a long and interesting apprenticeship in the creation of scenery for plays that have made theatrical history during the last twenty-five years. He was educated in the Georgia School of Technology and had art instruction at the Julian School of Beaux Arts in Paris and in the Huffe School in Munich. Returning to this country he was first associated with the old Lyceum Theater, when Daniel Frohman was its guiding genius. Afterward he was employed at the Empire Theater during the regime of Charles Frohman’s immortal stock company.

“Branching out for himself, he forged to the front and to-day his work is being represented on Broadway by no less than five attractions, among them being ‘The Broken Wing,’ now running at the Forty-eight Street Theater.

Mr. Ackerman as early as 1912 saw the coming of the modern decorative art into the theater of this country, an art that had been in vogue for some time in Germany, Austria, Russia, and to a degree in France and Italy. Feeling that the time would come when scenic painting and theater decorations would respond to the modernist movement and, in order to be fully prepared when this movement came, he went abroad to study.

“The new method, which is a simple one, arrives at an effect that formerly required great quantities of scenery, but which could be done in more artistic and effective way with a few set pieces, some drapes and some new lighting effects,” says Mr. Ackerman.

“In the early days of the theater scenery was given no consideration in the production of plays. The ancient Greeks depended for their background on nothing other than what nature provided. Whether or not the audiences were satisfied with what the author provided through the medium of actors, leaving the scenic environment to be created through suggestion, has not been settled even to this day.

“In the course of time a backdrop, or a curtain, usually of a somber hue, was employed to keep the minds and eyes of the audience from straying further than the limits of the stage before them. From time to time a more adventuresome playwright and produces added a bit of decorative effect, and thus we trace the evolution of stage settings.

“Then came a period when great artists like Raphael, Watteau, Boucher, Servandoni and Stanfield were eager to accept commissions to execute theatrical scenery. Even so great an artist as Alma-Tadema in recent times contributed canvases to the theater that delighted the eye and helped materially in the successful production of plays.

“The interest in scenery became apparent and the desire for absolute fidelity of detail was made a condition precedent to the acceptance of a play by the public. The reaction gave rise to the freak movement in scenic decoration. The aesthetic in art has its admirers where the canvas is small and the galleries are frequented by those who are thoroughly conversant with its aims and are in sympathy with its effects. But not so in the theater, where the audience is a mixed one, recruited from every social stratum.

“The scenic painter’s art is as exact as that of a composer of music. There is harmony of color that is as punctilious as that of music. The jarring note in music offends the ear, the jarring note of color insults the eye. With music the interpreter is secondary to the work of the composer. The scenic artist providing the scenery for a play presents a product that is but a minor detail to the work of the playwright as interpreted by the actor. The scenic artist’s work, however, must lend itself and blend into the effects created by light manipulation, and any scheme of color or form that is not a mirrored reflection of nature falls short of the purpose for which the scenic artist was employed and detracts in consequence from the value of the play to the audience.

“What is the modern tendency in the theater so far as scenery is concerned? To my mind it is toward the modified background. The moment scenery gets beyond a background it becomes scenery, no more, no less – just painted canvas, Yet scenery can be colorful without offending the eye or detracting from the actor in his work in delineating the character he is called upon to play or interpreting the intent of the author by the intonation he gives the lines he is asked to speak.

“As regards the carrying to the extreme the perfection of detail, why not elect the spectator to become a part of the performance by permitting him to use his reasoning process in completing the detail mentally through the germ of suggestion of detail without carrying it out to the extreme? That has been the trouble with our reactionary scenic artists. They have made scenery and color the principle feature of the entertainment, leaving the story of the playwright and the acting as the background. In Europe the suggestion of effect, which is to mind the modern trend, has been held by the great stage directors and dramatists over there as more highly satisfactory and far better than a mass production. This has been created through the use of false prosceniums or, as they are termed in Europe, portals. Through this medium attention is centralized on the artist and not on the scenery.

“Another Modern tendency in the theater has been to delegate to the scenic artist authority to decorate the stage with the essential drapes, rugs, furniture, objects of art and other properties demanded by the play. This will result in a higher degree of the artistic in productions, eliminating the chance of offending those who have good taste.

“Another trend of the times is to improve the lighting of stage productions. Our present methods have made little or no advance from what was obtained when gas was the illuminant in the theater. Our modern footlights, even though electricity is employed, are scarcely one pace forward from what was used in the theaters fifty years ago. It may shock you to known that there is not a perfect theater in America to-day – that is, a theater that gives to such lighting the perfection it derives – and this is because the inadequate and antique appliances to be found therein. The only theaters in New York that in a way approach a proper equipment for lighting are the Booth, Century, New Amsterdam and Metropolitan Opera House. However, the new Sheridan Theater, which is soon to open, will be the first theater in New York where it will be possible to get any light effect desired. The system to be employed is obtained through a switchboard, where the light effects are all arranged beforehand and by merely touching a push button they automatically change as desired and thus colors will melt into each other, creating effects that heretofore have only been seen on the Continent of Europe.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 1070 – “Colors Vibrate the Same as Music,” P. Dodd Ackerman, 1921

In the midst of both global and personal strife, P. Dodd Ackerman explored a new stage aesthetic at home and abroad. Newspapers would later report, “Mr. Ackerman, as early as 1912, saw the coming of the modern decorative art into the theater of this country, an art that had been in vogue for some time in Germany, Austria, Russia, and to a degree in France and Italy. Feeling that the time would come when scenic painting and theater decorations would respond to the modernist movement and, in order to be fully prepared when this movement came, he went abroad to study” (New York Tribune, 27 March 1921, page 48).

By 1920 Ackerman remarried and was on a different trajectory with new wife and young son in tow; he was becoming part of a theatre movement.

On May 1, 1921, the “New York Tribune” included an article about color theory for the stage, interviewing P. Dodd Ackerman (page 4).

“Colors Vibrate Same as Music, Designer Says” was the heading for the article.

Here is the article in its entirety:

“P. Dodd Ackerman Explains How Scenic Art is an Accessory to the Drama.

“There have been more radical changes in scenic painting for the stage in the last three years than in fifty years previous,” says P. Dodd Ackerman, who painted and designed scenery for “The Broken Wing,” now running at the Forty-eighth Street Theater.

“Where in the past color was thrown indiscriminantly on canvas and shadow lights were employed to give the outline of figure, all of which seemed to produced the illusion of naturalness, this situation no longer holds. Psychology, that science of mind which but a few years ago was understood by only the elect but to-day is understood by millions, has exerted an influence on the painting of scenery for theatrical use. It has brought about a realization that color affects human beings and synchronizes with human emotions if properly applied, and by this same token can create a disturbing element that makes for discord.

“Colors vibrate the same as music tones. The effect of color on the emotions of an audience is a subject that has long been a problem for serious study by the producer of plays, the costumer and the scenic artist. Why red should be the color to indicate danger or green safety no one knows, but still the fact remains that such is the case. Whether red, with its suggestion of fire, or green, of verdant fields, has anything to do with this still remains a matter of speculation. The emotional vibration sent out by red of the prismic ray is known to scientists to be the most powerful and excitiative, while the blue and violet are the most sedative. Lumière, the greatest of all authorities on color influence, after a series of tests covering many years, described the effects of color as the engine that propelled the various phases of human emotion to a perfect consummation of desired results.

“With the stage production reaching its present state of artistic perfection, the scenic artist can no longer paint his scenery merely to represent the outward appearance of the requirements in the manuscript. He must read the manuscript as carefully as the producer, who determines on his reading whether he is willing to make a presentation of it. The artist must make a serious and analytical study of the script and determine the predominating emotion of each act and choose his color scheme for the scenery in order to attain a perfect synchronization of color and emotion. By this means alone can a happy blending of scenery and dialogue, together with the acting of the company, produce the effect hoped for by the author and the manager to obtain complete success for their efforts.

“Speaking in an elementary way, for the purpose of providing simple experiments of color influence, the reader can easily determine the effect of amber in creating depression. By the use of pink exhilaration is promoted. A room done entirely in green simulates morbidity, while on the other hand blue is soothing. It has been discovered that the deeper and darker the tones of blue used as a decorative color scheme the more soothing and peaceful and cam is the influence on human emotion. Brown is a non-emotional color. It creates a sense of firmness and solidity. These suggestions can be utilized to as good advantage in home decoration as they have been in stage scenery. A sombre setting, with a flash of color, upsets synchronization of emotion, with the color scheme of a setting, just as awkward words clash in a musical score with notes intended to be complementary thereto.

“Lighting is so closely allied with stage settings that if there is not a unity of purpose between the two the audience gets the discord, which in this instance is unpleasing to the eye. In consequence thereof the play fails to satisfy and good acting is curtailed of effect.”

To be continued…