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Sosman & Landis: Shaping the Landscape of American Theatre. Employee No. 6 – John H. Young

John H. Young started at Sosman & Landis in 1883. He was part of a deal brokered between Thomas G. Moses and Lemuel H. Graham with Joseph S. Sosman and Perry Landis. In 1882 and 1883, Moses, Graham and Young were working together on several projects across the Midwest under the name Graham & Moses. In Eau Claire, Wisconsin, the two competed against Sosman & Landis for the same contract and won. As Moses returned home to Chicago on the same train as Landis, Sosman was waiting for them and proposed a deal. He convinced both Moses and Graham to close their studio and return to work at the Sosman & Landis studio.

By 1883, Moses had known Young for seven years and was extremely familiar with his artistic skills, especially that as a figure painter. The two first met in Grand Rapids, Michigan when Young was only 18 years old. Moses hired Young as an assistant on a church mural job. From early on, newspaper reviews describe Young as exceptional and incomparable; he had the gift and a magnetic personality. In his memoirs Moses fondly remembered Young’s flower garden as “a hodgepodge mixture of growing things.” As a joke, Young had bought a lot of seeds that had been accidentally mixed. In many ways, this was how Young lived his entire life; he planted unknown seeds and then waited for a surprise.

John Hendricks Young was born on June 10, 1858 in Grand Rapids, Michigan. He was the son of Samuel W. Young and Lena H. Young. Both emigrated from Holland and raised their family in Michigan. Samuel was listed as a saloonkeeper in the 1870 census and a pork packer in the 1880 census. There were no theater or art connections there to nurture any of the Young children.

John was the third of five children born to the couple. His siblings were: William S. (b. 1822), Mary (b. 1854), John H. (b. 1858), Louis C. (b. 1865), Lillian M. (b. 1867).

In 1876 Moses was working with a Frenchman named Wardus on a church mural job in Grand Rapids, Michigan. They placed two advertisements in the papers: one for a figure painter and the other for an assistant. Young worked as an assistant to the figure painter, Tom Brown, recently hired from New York. Of his crew, Moses wrote, “We three, the same age, roomed and chummed together and we had a fine time. And, as I remember, we did some pretty good work.” Their employer, Wardus, soon advertised the artistic trio as the “three young Roman artists.” Of the designation, Moses recalled, “We didn’t look it – we were all quartered at a cheap hotel and we met a great many young people.” Unfortunately, Wardus skipped town upon the completion of the project with all of the earnings, leaving the three young artists penniless. Left to their own devices, Moses immediately secured scenery work at an opera house, with Young and Brown hustling for sign work. Soon, Brown returned to New York, with Moses and Young heading to Detroit in hopes of meeting Wardus to collect their salaries. Realizing that Wardus had again left town, Moses returned to Chicago then Young returned to Grand Rapids. By 1877, however, John H. Young was listed as an artistic in the Grand Rapids City Directory, living at 99 Lyon Street.

Moses mentioned Young again in 1882 when he and Graham were working in Michigan. Moses wrote, “While in Grand Rapids, John Young joined us. He was then working a candy concern, but was delighted to join us.” Young was listed as working in the candy manufacturing business in the 1880 Federal Census, residing as a lodger on 90^th Street.

Moses, Graham and Young went from Grand Rapids to Elgin, Illinois, and then on to Racine, Wisconsin. They trio split forces as their workload continued to increase. Moses stayed to complete a project in Wisconsin while Graham and Young journeyed on to Hannibal, Missouri. After Missouri, Graham and Young painted scenery for the Opera House in Decatur, Illinois. Like Moses and many other scenic artists, Young picked up additional income teaching art classes as a sideline. On July 27, 1883, the “Decatur Daily Republican” reported, “Mr. John H. Young, the watercolor artist of Chicago, has arrived in the city and will form a class on Thursday afternoon of this week for the purpose of giving instruction in making sketched from nature. Mr. Young may be found either at the opera house, where he is engaged in painting the new scenery, or at Drake’s Hotel. The artist will give lessons on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons of each week during his stay of four weeks in Decatur, Illinois (page 3). On July 28, 1883, the “Herald-Dispatch” of Decatur, Illinois described the scenic work by Graham and Young for the new opera house. The article reported, “L. L. Graham the scenic artist who has been engaged in this work for three weeks. He has been assisted by John H. Young of Chicago” (page 3). The pair also delivered scenery for Boyd’s Opera House in Omaha, Nebraska and the New Gillis Opera House in Kansas City, Missouri. Moses, Graham and Young all began working at the Sosman & Landis studio when Graham & Moses closed out their contracts that fall.

While working at Sosman & Landis, Moses and Young planned several sketching trips to gather source material and hone their artistic skills. Their first western sketching trip for was Colorado in 1884. They were accompanied by fellow scenic artists Hardesty Maratta and Ed Morange. None of the artists had ever seen the Rocky Mountains before, so their headed west toward Denver, Pike’s Peak and Breckenridge. Moses recounted a humourous tale about Young, writing, “About six o’clock the boys were all hungry. As our car was a buffet affair, I ordered tea and toast. The porter had a fine linen tablecloth, and when he brought in the tea and toast there were three very disgusted boys. Young said nothing but left the car and was gone about ten minutes, and then returned with a can of corn and a large link of Summer Sausage. It was fully two feet long. He flourished it over his head and said, loud enough for the whole car to hear, ‘Live and let live, that’s our motto.’ Of course, the passengers were amused, but the porter and cook was not. He rushed out for some paper, which he spread over his damask tablecloth to save it from the sausage grease. He warmed up our corn, so we finally got a meal. Our bag of canned goods was in the baggage car, so there was no chance of our suffering from hunger so long as Young stood in with the baggage man.”

Moses’ memoirs describe Young as a long-legged mischievous artist always ready for adventure and full of humor. Moses and Young continued to spend any time off from the studio sketching. Moses wrote, “I spent Sundays during the autumn months with Young at F. C. Bromely’s studio, painting in oil. We both made some progress.”

In 1884, Moses wrote, “Henry C. Tryon came to the studio to work. 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.” Moses and Tryon headed to West Virginia during the fall of 1885. Young joined the pair in Schell. All three roomed in the back of the post office and general store. Moses wrote, “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.” The three spent their days traipsing across the countryside to find ideal sketching locations. Amidst artistic observations and animated political debates, the three worked on their craft. They descended to valley floors and crossed many creeks and rivers. Moses recalled, “Young, with his long legs could jump across from rock to rock.”

In 1886, Moses, Tryon and Young were three of six scenic artists featured in Chicago’s “Inter Ocean” newspaper. David A. Strong, Walter W. Burridge, and Charles H. Ritter were the other three scenic artists. At one time or another, all six artists worked for Sosman & Landis in the 1880s. The “Inter Ocean” article published on February 28, 1886, gave a brief bio for each artist. Of Young, the article noted, “J. Hendricks Young was born in Grand Rapids, Mich. in 1858, and early became an artist in fresco painting, dealing almost exclusively in Scriptural figure subjects. His experience as a scenic artist has been continuous since 1880. The leading merits and characteristics of Mr. Young’s art treatment are originality of conception and boldness, vigor, and expression of action in execution. He is now engaged in some of the best panorama work.”

Young was still living in Chicago and listed in the City Directory in both 1887 and 1888. At the time he was working at 12 S. Morgan and boarding at the Farwell House. By the end of 1888, however, Young had moved to New York and by 1889 was listed in the New Rochelle Directory as an New York artist working at 541 W. 21^st In the 1891-92 City Directory Young was listed as a scenic artist at 1445 B’way and living in Pelhamville, NY.

By 1891, Young’s studio was listed at the Broadway Theatre in New York. His artistic process is described in numerus article over the years. An article in the “Pittsburgh Dispatch” described his use of a pounce during the drawing process. He described, “I first lay off this charcoal sketch on paper. The charcoal rubs off. I stick small holes through the paper following the lines and, placing this sheet upon the canvas, take the ounce-bag of charcoal dust and slap it in the paper over the hole. When the sheet is removed we have an outline upon the canvas. This is followed with an indelible pencil, the lines of which will come out stringer when wet with paint. The painter can then go ahead. This is done where exact work is desirable, as it often is in architectural pieces”

In New York, Young designed over 70 shows for Broadway, including “Babes in Toyland” (1903), “Forty-five minutes from Broadway” (1906), “Little Nemo” (1908), “Higgledy-Piggledy” (1905), “Ziegfield Follies” (1907,1908, and 1913) “Broadway to Paris” (1912), “Robinson Crusoe, Jr.” (1907, 1908, 1916), and “Sinbad” (1919).

Already in 1894, Young was noted as “the ingenious and artistic scene painter” for “On the Bowery” by R. N. Stephens. Young was applauded for painting a beautiful rendition of the Brooklyn Bridge. In 1895 Young designed and painted “Pawn Ticket 210” by David Belasco of the Broadway Theatre in New York. A stellar review was published in the “Detroit Free Press” on April 9 (page 5). In 1896, Young was credited with scenery for “Fortuna, or the Princess Tough,” commenting, “The scenery, it is said, is the richest and most elaborate ever seen at the Fountain and was painted by John H. Young, of the Fifth Avenue Theatre, New York” (The Commercial Gazette, Cincinnati, OH, 6 Feb 1896, page 15). By the fall of 1896, Young was associated with the Broadway Theatre in New York, with this association being cited in newspapers across the country (Los Angeles Herald, 20 Sept. 1896, page 11).

The next year Young designed and painted the “picturesque scenery” for Davis & Keogh’s production of “The Sidewalks of New York.” Newspaper reviews noted that it depicted “familiar localities, reproduced from photographs of the actual buildings and views by the hand of artist” (Detroit Free Press December 6, 1896, page 19). The article goes onto describe his contribution, “In the second act the New York Herald building is shown in accurate detail when enormous presses are at work, and the editorial staff is in active operation. The third act is laid in Brooklyn. This scene represents an old distillery and a shot tower by the East river.” Later newspaper reviews commented on Young’s “originality of conception and boldness, vigor, and expression of action in execution.” Young became well known for his artistic vision, picturesque painting and precision. His trademark was an attention to detail, one supported by an illustrative library kept at his studio. He also excelled in figure painting, the first quality that caused Moses to hire him in 1876.

On Dec. 17, 1899, Young was quoted in the “San Francisco Chronicle,” stating, “Figure painting is a branch of art in itself. It requires a long and tedious course of study and practice, including knowledge of anatomy that would qualify a man for a position as a staff surgeon in the Army, and the average scene painter, who has to handle all branches of painting can’t afford the time necessary to learn all this. Then too, it is practically impossible to paint figures than, in view of the varying positions taken by actors, will always be in proportion to the real personages on the stage. It’s bad enough when you paint an ancient oak, supposed to be big in proportion to its years, to have some ham of an actor lean up against it and make it look like a sapling; but worse with figures it would be infinitely worse” (page 12).

Young met up with Moses again in 1900 when as they both designed and painted scenes for “Quo Vadis.” While in New York, Moses and Young continued their sketching trips, now adding Harry A. Vincent to their group. In 1901, Moses wrote, “Every Sunday this summer I went sketching near home, and it was very picturesque. John Young and Harry Vincent joined me quite often, as we all lived near the spot.”

Moses moved to New York, operating Moses & Hamilton until 1904 when he returned to the Sosman & Landis studio. By 1902, Young’s studio was located at the Grand Opera House in New York City. On September 3, 1902, the “Buffalo Express” published a lengthy article about Young. The article reported, “Mr. Young has been twelve years getting together a working outfit of 10,000 photographs and 800 books, which he values at $60,000. As recently as 1898 he sent $50 to each American consul in an out-of-the-way place and requested the purchase of photographs – photographs of palaces and of fisher huts, of glorious gardens and of desert beaches, of statuary and carving and paintings. Among his volumes are David Robert’s Door Designs, Boucher’s Cupids and many others now out of print, and generally forgotten…He almost always keeps armor, antique weapons, costumes and the like. From his vast store the painter extracted pictures from which to copy a rice field for the Chinese booth of the Woman’s Exhibitions, bazaar buildings at Cairo for the Egyptian booth, a café on the Ringstrasse at Vienna for the Austria booth, and so on, ad infinitum…The large number of models in Mr. Young’s studio is due to the fact that he keeps his miniatures as carefully as an accountant filed away papers. Not only is there a chance that he might be obliged to bring them into requisition again of fire destroys his work, or a duplicate of that work is desired, but they form an invaluable record. ‘These playthings,’ he declares, ‘are the plot of the story we tell, and according as the plot is accurate and elaborate so is the story atmospheric and pleasing. My principal study since I took up this art has been the development of ideas which crystalize into models – a feature of scene painting of which the public is wholly ignorant.” The article also noted, “The biggest contract Mr. Young has had since he became a scene painter is that with the Professional Woman’s League for the Woman’s Exhibition, and he has been pushing his entire staff nearly two months on the models to be submitted to Manager William A. Brady.”

In 1903, Young was living in Mount Vernon, listed as a N.Y. scenic artist living at 2^nd ave. near 2^nd, N.P. That year, Moses was also listed in the Mount Vernon Directory, living at 170 Elm Ave.

Early in 1904 he purchased the two-story frame house with a “shed on rear” at No. 536 West 29th Street. On February 12 architect Arthur G. C. Fletcher filed plans for a “brick and concrete studio building” to cost $8,000. Completed within the year, double doors on the street level allowed the large scenic artworks to be transported from studio to stage. The building design included a great expanse of glass in the large arched fourth floor loft window, providing an abundance of northern light, perfect for painting scenery. In his 29^th street studio, Young created hundreds of maquettes. Young repeatedly explained that these small-scale designs were “a feature of scene painting of which the public is wholly ignorant.” Young’s studio building was later used Eugene B. Dunkel Studios, another scenic firm. Neither Young now Dunkel would have ever guessed that in 2019, the 29^th street studio building would be listed for 18.5 million dollars (https://www.luxuo.com/properties/properties-featured/the-1904-john-h-young-building-is-now-on-sale-for-18-5-million.html).

In 1905, Moses and Young completed their last project together. They worked on old mill scenery at Luna Park for Frederick Thompson; Young did all the properties and papier-mâché work. Young isn’t mentioned again until 1922 in Moses’ reminiscing. That year, Moses wrote, “John H. Young was another assistant that made good in scenic painting, but never stuck to the picture end of it, as he started to make money in New York and that settled his picture ambitions, (if he ever had them very strong). As I look backward over the names of the successful ones, I wonder what I would have done had I been gifted with the same amount of talent.”

One of the best articles about Young is part of the John R. Rothgeb Papers at the Harry Ransom Center, University of Texas, Austin. It is a tattered photocopy, without any date or source, tucked between two unrelated files. The article is entitled, “How Scene Painting is Done in a Big Studio.” The subtitle that followed was, “John H Young Goes About His Work in Systematic Fashion and Gives Public an Idea of How His Difficult Work is Performed.” Here it is in its entirety.

“No scenic artist in this country enjoys a higher reputation than John H. Young of the Broadway Theatre. Hardly a play of any moment which has been produced in the metropolis has been written without evidence of his careful and skillful touch, and for the road attractions they bristle with the touches of his brush.

But Mr. Young’s position in his special line has not been reached without long and conscientious work dating back nearly a score of years. Born in the early 60s, Mr. Young soon gave signs of his artistic bent by turning his back upon the allurements of Michigan farming, and he was barely out of his teens before he was turning out pictures, which, though the evinced talent, were lacking in that technique which can only come from study and practice. About this time Mr. Young had the good fortune to come in contact with Thomas Moses, the veteran scenic artist of the West, and the latter was quick to see signs of talent in his young protégé.”

For several years Mr. Young worked in concert with his instructor and the scenes that he painted caused so wide comment, that in time he came to New York, where he could find a better field for his abilities. New York managers were quick to appreciate his efforts and thus came about that the subject of this sketch was installed as chief artist at the Broadway, which position he has held for more than seven years.

The average manager, when he has selected a play, has but seldom anything more than the vaguest idea of what he wants in the way of scenery to enhance it. It is just here that Mr. Young steps in and rescues the befuddled manager from the slough of theatrical despondence. He gets the main incidents of the author’s story and suggests the possibilities of scenic illustration. Oftentimes the manager who is to produce the play has ideas of the most impractical nature and Mr. Young shows him a hasty sketch of the utter folly of attempting to reproduce them. Provided Mr. Young and the manager come to an agreement, the decided-upon scenes are first done in watercolors, and these, when finished are subjected to another inspection by both artist and manager. Changes are suggested here and there, and sometimes even, the whole work is gone over, when it is found advisable. When the preliminary sketch is satisfactory, the next step is to transform into a miniature set scene, which duplicates down to the most trifling detail, the contemplates larger on for the actual performance. For this performance Mr. Young has in his studio, a small stage fitted with all the appurtenances which belong to the most complex of the regular stages; there are trap doors, wings, fly-galleries, a drop curtain, electric light, and a maze of small cords and fixtures for managing the whole.

If it be a mill scene, for instance, that is being arranged, the duplicate in miniature must have the revolving wheel, the running water, the sluice-box, and nothing whatever must be lacking. Very often when all is completed and in place on this trial stage, something of an impractical nature may be discovered and remedied, before the expense of the larger model is incurred. Theoretically many wonderful stage scenes may be all right, but the little trial stage prevents all failures and fiascos so far as the mere scenery is concerned. Of course, after this point is reached – the test on the trial stage – nothing remains but the putting of the scenes into the proper shape for the public. Time is the principal factor in this, and the more scenes and the more full of mechanical contrivance they are the longer it takes, Mr. Young has been most fortunate in overcoming the difficulties which put the mere spectacular plays beyond the abilities of many scenic artists. In “Under the Poplar Star,” for nicety of construction and naturalness of action, Mr. Young’s iceberg scene has seldom been equaled, and in all of his work there is the same evidence of thorough art, combined with a broad grasp of mechanical detail.

To the layman, scenic painting is somewhat of a mystery, and if he gives any thought to it at all it is doubtful if he realizes the high order of artistic ability which one must possess in order to faithfully deploy upon mammoth stage canvases the scenes which reflect the spirit of the play. Not only has one got to be an artist to begin with, but he must be a perfect jack-at-all trades in order to transfer his preliminary small sketch to a back drop measuring sometimes more than 100×40 feet; in the main, the small pattern picture is ruled off into squares, each of which is consecutively numbered. Similar squares, but on a much larger scale are then drawn upon the great canvas and the sketch is then “blocked in” square for square and number by number. As long as four months is needed on some of the more pretentious scenes, though about six weeks is the average for an ordinary scene. To enumerate the plays for which Mr. Young has painted scenes is no easy task, but among them may be mentioned, “The Highwayman,” “On the Bowery,” “Power of the Press,” “In Old Kentucky,” “Cumberland ’61,” “The Player,” “Pousee Café,” “Woman in Black,” “Under the City Lamps,” “Le Voyage de Susette,” “The Diamond Breaker,” “Monongahela,” “Trip to the Moon,” “Naval Cadet,” “Roaring Dick,” “La Falotte,” “Fallen Among Thieves,” “Polar Star,” “For the Crown,” “Lion Tamer,” “Across the Potomac,” “Power of Gold,” “Wang,” “Hamlet,” “Sidewalks of New York,” In addition, Mr. Young has painted many of the best drop curtains in the country, and as a water color artist he stands in the foremost rank. Nearly every exhibition of note is contributed to by him, and his work command a high price among discriminating purchasers.”

Young lived the remainder of his life in New York, eventually retiring from scenic art, but never giving up painting. Youngs’ obituary was brief, and simply stated: “JOHN H. YOUNG – In North Pelham, N.Y., 86; retired New York scenic artist; designed stage sets for shows managed by Florenz Ziegfied, David Belasco, Earl Carroll, George White and the Harrises.” (News Journal, Wilmington, Delaware, 5 Jan 1944. Page 13).

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 1066 – P. Dodd Ackerman, 1920

The scenic art world was small in 1920. Then, just as now, personalities circled around one another as if dancers at a ball, occasionally changing partners along the way. Today’s post is about P. Dodd Ackerman, a friend and colleague of Thomas G. Moses who made the papers in 1920. The next few posts will explore the life and career of P. D. Ackerman and his brother E. A. Ackerman.

Advertisement for scenic artist P. Dodd Ackerman in “Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide” for the 1903-1904 season.

On Feb. 29, 1920, Ackerman was featured in a “New York Tribune” the newspaper article. The headline for the article announced, “Work of the Scenic Artist Has Advanced Materially Says P. Dodd Ackerman” (New York Tribune, 29 Feb 1920, page 34). The most interesting section of the article for me was the section: “Theatrical managers are now accepting designs from men who do not make the scenery. Ackerman does not believe in this and has come to be one of the pioneers in coming out against the practice. He believes that the man who is the artist, who is practical, who understands stagecraft and has education can do the type of work now required in the theater, although he has been a member of the old school of stage design.” Times were changing and the scenic world was turning upside down with the appearance of designers without a full understanding of stagecraft.”Here is the article in its entirety, as it provides an interesting perspective of the scenic art world in 1920, viewed from a member of the “old school”:

“J. E. Dodson, the English character actor in the late Charles Frohman’s companies, liked stage interiors to match the socks he wore. When P. Dodd Ackerman and Ed Unitt, the scenic artists with the producer, were at work on scenery for a new play he would come up, show them his socks and say:‘Boys, be sure to get the right shade for these.’“Now Ackerman has a very different problem. He is trying to design a room which will be the setting for the three acts of Max Marcin’s new play, ‘Three Live Ghosts.” It must not be ornate, it must not be highly furnished and yet it must hold the interest of the audience throughout the play.‘Sounds very simple, doesn’t it?’ he asked in the office of his studio opposite of the Metropolitan Opera House. ‘Yet I have been going about for ten days trying to dream of just the right room.’In these two instances there is summed up the advance in scenic art, an advance which has come in the last six or eight years, starting in Europe. When Dodson was acting and even years after his retirement, stage decorations were supposed to be reproductions of nature or of a locality or room. They were copied line for line, and the element of imagination, although present, did not enter into the designing of the scenery. Simplicity and suggestion are the keynotes of modern stage designing. Imagination is called upon, both the imagination of the artist and the imagination of the audience, and much is only hinted at, sometimes very faintly. Big, blank wall spaces are being used and are believed to be more decorative than the highly ornate hangings of a few years ago.Scene painters until four or five years ago, designed, created and made the scenery themselves Theatrical managers are now accepting designs from men who do not make the scenery. Ackerman does not believe in this and has come to be one of the pioneers in coming out against the practice. He believes that the man who is the artist, who is practical, who understands stagecraft and has education can do the type of work now required in the theater, although he has been a member of the old school of stage design.‘Many studios have allowed managers to hand them so-called designs and have made them possible through their efforts,’ he said. ‘The man who did only the very primitive part of the work got all the credit and the studios were never heard of. But it meant an income to them and they were satisfied. I have consistently refused work with any except of my own designs, and I have had a hard battle to convince managers that a man with an established reputation in the old school can change the order of things and do the new. How many theatergoers who laugh at the situations and admire the acting give even a moment’s consideration to the thought, the time and the expense of the stage decorations which often help make or ruins a production? It is doubtful of the ratio is more than one in ten.Briefly Mr. Ackerman, who has designed and built scenery for many Winter Garden productions, for ‘The Magic Melody’ and ‘The Passions Flower,’ now current on Broadway; for ‘Le Coq d’Or,’ at the Metropolitan and many other plays, described the steps leading from the manuscript to the completion of the scenery and its erection of the stage.The manuscript is turned over to the scenic artist, and frequently the playwright confers with him and suggests what he desires to bring out in various scenes. After reading the manuscript and noting the locale or setting, the artist designs the scenes in colored studies. These are submitted to a manager and at a conference at which the author, the stage director and the artist are present, they are discussed and either accepted or rejected.‘Sometimes it is necessary to make a great many studies before one is accepted. It is just like writing a play or a story. You might hit it at the first attempt, or you might have to wrote and rewrite until you are successful,’Models, drawn to scale and planned as carefully as houses, are made from the sketches and are also submitted. When they are passed, working drawings for the builders are made, and they are charged with determining the mechanical details of the work. For example, every piece of scenery must be no more than five feet ten inches in width in order to make railway transportation of the sets possible. The scenes are usually all fitted up before the painters start on them, and when completed are set up in the theater by the mechanic who built them from the plans, usually not until the day of the dress rehearsal.‘Lighting is a very important element,’ Mr. Ackerman said, ‘and I stipulate in every contract that I make that it must be under my supervision. I know the play, and working with the stage director it is possible to bring out the desired effects. Stage lighting, I find, is largely a matter of patience and experiment. In costume plays, it is necessary to have the actors on the stage during the experiments to see the effect of the lights on their costumes.The average time necessary to design and build the scenery for a play is from six to eight weeks, but seldom is enough time given.‘It is necessary then to think quickly and have a great source of knowledge at the tips of one’s fingers,’ Mr. Ackerman continued.To prepare for his work, Mr. Ackerman studied at the Art Students League, at Cooper Union, and Beaux Arts in Paris. He has also traveled and read extensively. Ed Unitt and he were the artists for the late Charles Frohman, and this, he says, was the best job he ever had.Through the lofty-ceilinged studio he led the way. Huge canvases, many colored, were stretched out on frames, waiting for the artist’s brush. Yet no scaffolds or ladders were visible. Simply by pulling a rope, which adjusts a system of weights, it is possible for one man to place the gigantic easel in any position he desires.‘Scenery,’ he concluded, ‘must be a background. When it gets beyond a background, then it is stage scenery. It should never intrude so much that the audience overlooks the play, the costumes or the people on the stage.”

To place Ackerman within the context of the Thomas G. Moses story, both Moses and Ackerman partnered with the same artist – L. L. Graham. In 1882, Thomas G. Moses left the Sosman & Landis Studio for the first time. He partnered with Lemuel L. Graham for just over a year. Graham later partnered with P. Dodd Ackerman in Brooklyn, New York. Their studio building was at 1576 to 1580 Bushwick Ave, New York. They purchased the Brooklyn lot in August 1902. By this time, Moses was also working in New York and had partnered with William F. Hamilton, forming Hamilton & Moses.I will continue to explore the life and career of Ackerman in tomorrow’s post.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 876 – Walter W. Burridge and His Scene Design Process, 1902

A reporter from Chicago’s “Inter Ocean” interviewed Walter Burridge on June 8, 1902 (page 42). His interview took place while Burridge worked on the stage set for “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz;” the production opening at the Grand Opera House. This is a great snapshot of information pertaining to his approach to a design and the production process.

Walter Burridge, from the “Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 6 Sept. 1905, page 22.

“How Scenic Work is Done.

“How does the scene painter go to work on a new production? “ Mr. Burridge smiled at this question. “I don’t known just how to begin explaining,” he said. “There are so many details that it is a hard matter to explain. Suppose, however, that a manager tells me he has decided to produce a play or opera or a description of the scenes furnished by the author. In such a lay-out there is a detailed write-up of the action, as to whether a character enters through a door and jumps over a cliff. These points are called the practical notes, the artist making a careful study of the play and noting all the important points, action, and locality, the period, time of day, etc.

“If possible the studies are made on the ground, and should the scene be laid in the present time and in a place easily accessible to the artist he obtains photographs and makes studies and sketches. When Mr. Hamlin put on “Arizona,” three summers ago at the Grand he sent Frederick Remington and myself to Aravalpa valley, and a delightful pilgrimage we had, positively one of the most enjoyable artistic experiences in my artistic career.

“In the case of “The Wizard of Oz,” however, the story is laid in fairyland, so I am obliged to draw from my imagination for the scenes to fit the action of the play. First of all I make a ground plan of each act and the separate scenes, drawing a diagram on a scale of one-inch to the foot. On this scale I draw the different parts of the scenes on cardboard, finishing the model in watercolor, pastel, charcoal, or sometimes simply in pencil. When the different parts are ready and cut out they are fitted and glued together upon the line of the ground plan upon a miniature stage, the front of which is modeled in shape like a proscenium opening of a theater. The model is a reduced copy of the stage setting, so that one realizes the relative proportions in color and composition.

“At the Paris Exposition, the scene model exhibit was one of the features of the fair, being a picture history of the theater in France for a hundred years. The creation of the scene and the model is one of the most interesting of the many processes that constitute the scene painter’s art. The uninitiated in the theatrical world would be surprised to see the odds and ends used in the make-up of a model – glue, pieces of coal, clay, plaster of Paris, sticks, wire, gauze, muslin, and colored gelatins. In one of the scenes of “The Wizard of Oz,” the entire depth of the stage will be used to represent the approach to the throne room of the Wizard, and it will be lighted with hundreds of illuminated globes. In making my model I was obliged to use small pearls to indicate the globes. The time spent with the models pays in the end. With a complete model one thoroughly understands the practicalities of the scene, its color, lighting, etc., and changes are easy to make. To re-make and alter the scene proper, however, would entail an enormous amount of expense.

“After my models have been approved they were given to the master carpenter who superintends their construction, builds the scenes and delivers them to the artist to be painted. The different sections of scenery are taken from the carpenter shop to the paint-room or ‘bridge.’ The paint frame I am now using is the largest in this country. It is seventy-five feet long and forty feet high, and it is lowered and raised by water power along the rear wall of the stage of the Auditorium. The carpenter attaches to this frame the different portions of scenery to be painted. Drops are tacked on the paint frame, which are then raised to a level with the paint bridge floor. The assistants then ‘prime’ a canvas with a coating of glue and whiting, and artists begin work with charcoal placed in a crayon-holder on the end of a stick, observing the proportions as they appear in the model. The artist, as a rule, paints by daylight, so he must make allowance for the effect of artificial light on his colors. He must make his tones stronger because the calcium and footlights invariably bleach them out, and when a daylight effect is called for of a moonlight one he must allow for the lighting-up of the scene as the time and action differ in each set or scene. “Yellow or amber light dominates the daylight effects; blue is the tone for moonlights-green is used by some, but I prefer blue, as experience has taught me that a green tone tends to make the faces of the characters appear ghastly.”

To be continued…

Travels of a Scenic Artists and Scholar: Russell Smith’s Paint Studio

The 1858 Thalian Hall drop curtain is a significant artifact within the framework of American history. It is much more than an old piece of scenery created for a theater. This signed drop curtain is a large-scale artwork painted by a nationally recognized artist, one who left a substantial written legacy. Written records of Smith’s design, painting and installation of the curtain provide additional artistic provenance for the piece. Smith’s journal entries provide an extensive historical context not only for the 1858 drop curtain, but also theatre work at the time.

Smith’s memoirs give insight into the life of the artist, his art, and the shift in American theatre practices. Many of his journal entries were interpreted by Virginia Lewis and published in the book “Russell Smith, Romantic Realist.” Of Smith, Lewis wrote, “All through life he enjoyed talking and writing about his scenery work, and liked to explain his philosophy of scene painting, writing many thoughts into his journals.”

When Russell Smith painted the drop curtain destined for Wilmington, North Carolina, he was 46 years old. A well-known and established scenic artist, by this point in his career he had worked for three decades.

Of interest to me is Russell’s studio at Edgehill in Jenkintown, Pennsylvania. He built his studio specifically for painting drops that he sometimes referred to as the “painting room for the Academy of Music.” This provided better light and a quiet environment to focus on his painting. A private studio space was preferable to the traditional one used by most artists in the theater. Most often, scenic artists painted scenery on frames that existed in the theater that they were creating scenery for at the time. However, a theater space was often busy with the hustle and bustle of rehearsals and stage preparation prior to a production. As there were fewer people watching him work, it is likely that criticisms and “suggestions” were kept to a minimum – a benefit when working off site. Smith suffered from chronic headaches throughout his entire life; to create art in the peace and quiet of his own studio must have been a relief from the noise of a commercial space.

Of Smith’s studio at Edgehill, Lewis notes that a frame structure was attached to the wing of the stone house. Smith wrote: “After the refreshment of sleep I would lie an hour and plan in my mind my day’s work – contrive the composition, dispose the masses of light, shade and color; and go over more than once, in fact, think it out; so that when I came before the canvas after breakfast, I never hesitated or lost time rubbing out, but went straight forward, and by night there would often be a finished scene. Some of the other prominent scene painters, Coyle and Jones, for instance, would express their surprise at the directness and the speed with which I pushed forward. They knew not the cause. But even that speed would not satisfy some stage managers; and I have been induced to paint three entire scenes in forty-two consecutive hours, and they were not simple scenes, like a calm sea and sly, or a quiet lake and distant hills, but represented an encampment, fortifications and a City, for ‘Edward the Black Prince.’”

Smith followed a traditional design process that is still used by many artists today, myself included. The design starts with a pencil drawing, or a simple concept sketch. This initially defines the composition. From this preliminary sketch, a quick painting or study is produced in a slightly larger format. These early works evolve into a finished picture, or scale color rendering that will be used for full scale painted drop. As today, this design process verifies the direction of the composition at every step. Ideally, it prevents a flurry of recommendations and alterations after any on site installation.

Small sketch for the Russell Smith 1858 drop curtain at Thalian Hall in Wilmington, North Carolina. It is approximately 2″ high by 3″ wide – very small. Almost like a sketch on a bar napkin!

1858 drop curtain by Russell Smith shows the final composition, after it evolved during the design process.

However, beauty lies in the eye of the beholder; then, as now, the value of scenic art varies from one to another. In his memoirs, Smith commented that some perceived scenic art as “but a coarse kind of daubing, indeed an inferior trade; and no doubt much of it deserves no higher position-with its want of nature and extreme exaggeration of color. But the best poetry of the Drama justifies the grandest and most beautiful illustration; and if the audience would demand it and the painter could bring to his great canvas sufficient genius a wide experience of nature and mastery of execution, where would lie its inferiority? And how much less would his power of instructing and pleasing be than a painter who strived to do so in the space of a yard or square foot? This was always my estimate of my profession; and I ever strove to sustain it by avoiding all false color, glitter and exaggeration of every kind, whilst striving to represent the most beautiful features of nature, I could see with reverential love of truth. The material, canvas and color, I used were also genuine as that of the best oil pictures; and as I painted in my own painting room, out of town, I was freed form the injudicious dictation of prompters, stage-managers, etc., who care little for real good art and are justly blamed for their shortcomings of the Stage, but who always justify themselves by saying. ‘The business must pay, and therefore it is our duty to give to the public what they want to see.’”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 713 – The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting, 1902

The following is the third in a series of posts pertaining to the article “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting,” published in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries” by W. Wheeler, during 1902. Here is the final of three posts:

“When a manager, sometimes with help from the author, has roughly indicated the kind of scene he requires, the scene- painter makes a sketch, and if that is approved he proceeds to construct of cardboard a complete model, on a scale, say, of half an inch to the foot. It is here that the resourcefulness and inventiveness of the scene-painter are able to make themselves felt. The model shows every thing, down to the smallest detail — not only the landscape, but door and windows, those which have to open in the actual scene being made ” practicable ” in the model.

Image from “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting,” published in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries” by W. Wheeler in 1902.

“Wings “and “top-cloths” [borders] are also shown, and even the pulley and ropes which will be used in the adjustment of the scene are indicated. This part of the work, as may be supposed, calls for abundant patience, but its importance is manifest, and no scene-painter begrudges the time he has to spend upon his model, even when he knows that he will have to toil early and late to get the work finished by the stipulated time.

The model, when at last it is completed, is submitted to the manager’s consideration. It may be that he or the author desires some alteration, generally an in considerable one. When the modification has been made, the model is handed over to the master carpenter, who constructs the framework which is to receive the canvas. Having been affixed to the frame, the canvas is prepared by the painter’s labourers, whose business also it is to mix the colours. These are ground in water, by means of such a machine as is figured in one of our illustrations. Now the artist draws the design in chalk or char coal, and then the colours are filled in, always, as I have said, with due regard to the artificial conditions under which the picture has to be viewed, certain colours, therefore, which appear very differently in artificial light as compared with natural light, being avoided al together, or modified, as the case may be.

That scene-painting, like most other modes of earning one’s daily bread, is not without drawbacks, I am not prepared to assert. Strange indeed would it be if this were not so. The work, as the reader will know for himself, has a plentiful lack of regularity, and while both master painters and assistants often have to toil under heavy pressure to get their scenes ready by the eventful night, the assistants, at any rate, sometimes have periods of enforced leisure.

The attractions of the vocation, however, to those to whom the work itself is congenial, far outweigh this disadvantage. If the practitioner of the art is clever and resourceful, if he can not only wield the brush swiftly and deftly, but is also facile in inventing a scene from the manager’s brief hints, which is a much rarer gift, he in no long time may rise to distinction, besides being liberally rewarded in a pecuniary sense for his industry and skill”.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 519 – Palette & Chisel, October 1927 – The Design Process

Part 519: Palette & Chisel, October 1927 – The Design Process

Palette & Chisel newsletter from October 1927 with article written by Thomas G. Moses.

Thomas G. Moses was a member of the Palette and Chisel Club in Chicago and contributed a variety of articles to their monthly newsletter during the late 1920s. His series for “Stage Scenery” started during September 1927

Here is the second part of Moses’ October installment to the Palette and Chisel newsletter during 1927:

“The artist makes a ground plan of the scene, scaled to one-half inch to the foot. The stage director approves of it, the model is made and every detail is worked out in the model. The recessed window calls for glass or the equivalent; a thin piece of mica or celluloid is glued on the model over the opening cut in the cardboard, the sash lines are drawn with heavy ink, and small bits of heraldry or stained glass are introduced. All the doors have the small thickness jambs, the floor is drawn in imitation of inlaid woods, the whole model is carefully colored and when completed is submitted to the stage director who, in turn, submits it to the playwright and the producing manager. If any minor changes are necessary they are made. When the model is O.K. it is turned over to the stage machinist and an estimate is made to build and prepare the scene for the artist who makes an estimate to paint the scene, which includes the cost of the model.

When the scene is ready for the artist it is placed on his frame. When painted, the machinist puts on the finishing hardware and lines. It is now ready to be moved to the theatre to be produced or rehearsed. The artist and stage machinist superintend the setting and lighting for the first time. It is then turned over to the stage director, and here is where the real hard part of the production comes. After many nights of labor on the scene, as well as long days in preparing the models and painting the scene, completely fatigued and ready for a good nights sleep, he must attend the rehearsal, supposed to be a scenic rehearsal. It is anything but that. The chances are that a umber of artists are interested as there are three or more acts and often a number of scenes to each act, each scene probably painted by a different artist; so each must wait until his act or scene is called. Lucky the fellow who has the first act for he is apt to get away before 10:00 P.M. The one with the forth act will probably get away about 3:00 A.M. for the director will probably go over an act several times before pronouncing it perfect. If this happens in the third act the artist of the fourth act is alone in his long waiting. After he is through and on his way back to New York City he will probably be almost unable to keep awake.

Most of the new productions of New York City are tried out for a week or so over in New Jersey, at Jersey City, Newark, Trenton, Plainfeild or Elizabeth; they all have to stand for it, for that is about the only time they get any of the Broadway production, and the show soon hears from them. If it happens to be poor and the weak points are strengthened and rehearsed every day until they are in good shape for New York critics. The scenic decorations are supposed to be perfect; in fact, they must be perfect.

The scenic artist should know all branches of scenic art and not specialize too much. While it is almost impossible to be perfect in all branches, he should have a good knowledge of landscape, architecture, figures, free hand scroll, marines and drapery; in fact, about everything under the sun. While it is necessary for an artist to be absolutely correct in many details he very often has to gloss over a great many important points which are not noticeable to the public.

Within the past few years many of the stage interiors have solid wood wainscoting, six or seven feet high, very heavy door casing and thick jambs. These solid and realistic interiors are all right but even the relief ornaments and mouldings often have to be high lighted and the shadows made strong. The walls are usually made of some real fabric. So on these scenes there is very little work for the artist. Even in the exteriors the modern, up-to-date idea is to have a lot of artificial flowers and shrubs among the painted pieces.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 378 – 1899, Theatrical Scene Painting and Homer Emens, second half

Part 378: 1899, Theatrical Scene Painting and Homer Emens, second half

The article “Theatrical Scene Painting” was published in “The Philadelphia Inquirer” on August 20, 1899, by James Clarence Hyde (page 46). Here is the second half of the article posted yesterday:

Homer Emens pictured on the paint bridge, from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

“Mr. Emens, whose ancestors, by the way, were among the earliest Dutch settlers of New York, devoted several weeks to looking up authorities in the libraries, both public and private, and making the preliminary sketches. The scenario called for a drop showing the exterior of Peter Stuyvesant’s house; an interior of Whitehall, the Governor’s mansion; the old fort at the Battery and an exterior view of Whitehall. The play is in three acts and four scenes. Mr. Emens’ next step was to make the models.

Homer Emens pictured next to the model for “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

Sketch for the play “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

A model looks very much like a toy theatre with the proscenium arch omitted. It is built on the scale of half an inch to the foot. In making these Mr. Emens is guided to a certain extent by the scene plot, a written and roughly drawn plan showing the entrances, exits, set pieces and the like that are required in the action of the play. This is outlined by the authors. In making the models as much care with regard to the details is taken as with the proposed scenery. Ever leaf and every stone is painted in watercolor.

The stage carpenters at work on scenery for “Peter Stuyvesant,” from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

Upon the completion of these models duplicates are made to guide the scene builder. In the construction of this it is important to observe simplicity, so that the entire scene can be set up, or “struck,” in a few minutes. The models for the “Peter Stuyvesant” sets were turned over to Claude Hagan, an experienced scene builder. Some time elapsed before his work was completed and then the scenery, or rather, the unpainted canvas mounted upon skeleton frames, was sent to the Fourteenth Street Theatre, where Mr. Emens does his work.

Stage carpenters at work securing fabric for painting, from the “Philadelphia Inquirer” 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

The pictures taken at the Fourteenth Street Theatre expressly for the Inquirer, give an excellent idea of how things look in Mr. Emens’ workshop. The artist, you see, needs a good deal of room. He requires not only the paint bridge and paint frames, but the entire stage. The paint bridge is suspended forty or fifty feet above the rear of the stage. It is about ten feet wide and there are no protecting rails to prevent the artist or his assistants from stepping off into space. At one end of the bridge is the studio where the models are constructed; at the other end are the shelves where the supply of paint is kept. The paints are not mixed with oil, as many people imagine, but with “size,” or diluted glue. On either side of the paint bridge hangs a massive frame, big enough to hold any “drop” (the background of a scene) that may be desired. These frames are lowered to and hoisted from the stage by means of a windlass. This is where the scenic artist’s junior apprentice gets in his fine work and acquires a muscle that is useful later in life. Scenery is usually classified as drops (the backgrounds), wings (the side-pieces), borders (the cross pieces overhead), and set pieces (such as a fort or a bridge). This is the first step in preparing the scenery is, of course, to have it placed upon the frames by the boss stage carpenter and his assistants. The frame is lowered to the stage and the scenery nailed on, as shown in one of the pictures. Then it is hoisted to the level of the bridge and the painting begins. Another picture gives an excellent idea of this. You will observe Mr. Emens in the foreground at the drawing board. Back of him, at his left, is an assistant sketching in outline a border. In his right hand he holds a long stick to which a piece of charcoal is fastened, in his left the model of the border. Preliminary to this work the canvas had to be “primed,” that is, painted white, and then the body color was laid on. On Mr. Emen’s right another assistant is seen painting a drop, while near by a third is mixing the colors on a very substantial palette. In the background the junior assistant is busy with the pots of paint.

One would probably wonder how such great effects are accomplished with the artist so near to the canvas.

How does he get his idea – of perspective – of atmosphere? The only answer to this is long years of study and experience. When the scenery is painted it is lowered to the stage. But there is still more to be done. In the case of a leafy border, for instance, the ragged outlines of the leaves have been marked with a thin red line, and all the intervening canvas has to be carefully cut out. In a third picture taken upon the stage, showing the carpenters and one of the artists at work upon a set piece, you will notice at the left, flat upon the stage looking a good deal like a mosaic floor, a piece of scenery. It is one of the borders, and from the canvas-littered stage you may know that busy hands with sharp knives have been cutting it out. This picture shows the boss carpenter seated at the right of the model of the old fort at the Battery in his lap. His assistants are fitting the fort together. The underpinning of the painted fort is strong enough to support several people, but it is so carefully constructed that it can be taken apart and placed flat against the wall in less than three minutes.

Perhaps in these few words an idea has been conveyed of the great amount of skill and labor required in preparing scenery for the stage, much has been necessarily left unsaid; the difficulty of getting up elaborate interiors, the use of stencils, the construction of practical waterways and a thousand and one things that a scene painter must know. He must combine the knowledge of a landscape artist of the first order, and architect and a builder. He must posses more than the ordinary patience, and then if he is a good business man he will have the happy consolation of a substantial bank account, even if the public are slow to accord him the glory that is his due.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 377 – Theatrical Scene Painting and Homer Emens, first half

Part 377: Theatrical Scene Painting and Homer Emens, first half

About the same time that Thomas G. Moses started working for Henry W. Savage at the American Theatre in New York, an article was published on the scenic design and art of Homer Emens. Emens was a contemporary of Joseph Physioc, John H. Young, Gates & Morange, Hart & Becker, F. Platzer, Walter Burridge, Ernest Albert, Edward Unitt, T. B. McDonald, F. Richard Anderson, and Moses. This is from a time when scenic artists were classically trained; they also understood stage mechanics and the effects of lighting. They were a part of a tradition dating centuries old, when individual artists sought mentors with whom they could study and acquire exceptional skills. Their artistic endeavors went well beyond any hobby, craft or individual art work. Scenic artists were recognized as part of the fine art community; they were the creators “magic” and of visual spectacle. They attained a level of skill that I have strived to achieve since first entering the field of scenic art. It was not a profession for the weak of heart, or those seeking the easy path toward recognition. By 1908, Emens was reported as “one of the most distinguished American scene painters” (Brooklyn Life, 22 August 1908, page 7).

Homer Emens and his model for “Peter Stuyvesant, Governor of New Amsterdam,” from Philadelphia Inquirer 20 Aug 1899, page 46.

The article “Theatrical Scene Painting” was published in “The Philadelphia Inquirer” on August 20, 1899. The article about Emens was written by James Clarence Hyde (page 46).

Here is first half of the article as it provides great context for the New York theatrical art scene:

“It all looks very pretty and complete to your eye as you sit out in front on opening night. It seems almost real enough to be true – the village street, the tavern, the Governor’s mansion. The painted scene is marvelously correct and effectively lighted. The play is a great success. When you go across the street for supper you will probably talk about the play and the acting. But how many people give more that a passing thought to the art, the labor and the care necessary to produce the scenery that has been such an admirable setting for the play? The performance lasted scarcely two hours and a half. You can rest assured that the scenery and properties alone took weeks, possibly months, to prepare.

New York is the great producing center of the theatrical field in this country. It is there that the best scenic artists, the cleverest property men and the most skillful scene builders are to be found. It is there that the gigantic paint frames are located. A correct estimate of the number of people who directly derive their living from the theatre and yet who are never seen by the public would surprise some who think that they are pretty well informed upon theatrical matters. Certain mills make a specialty of turning out the canvas used for scenery. There is one big lumber dealer in New York who makes it his exclusive business to supply stage carpenters with material. In the construction of scenery, lightness and strength are the essentials, and the patents on clamps, braces and hangers used only in scene building number over two hundred.

One of the heaviest productions for the coming season will be “Peter Stuyvesant, Governor of New Amsterdam,” which has been written for William H. Crane by Brander Matthews and Bronson Howard. As an illustration of how scenery is painted we will take this production as an example. Last winter Mr. Crane decided that he wanted a new play, and in view of his success in “The Henrietta” he wanted Bronson Howard to write it. Mr. Howard did not feel like undertaking the task. Then Mr. Brander Matthews was seen, but he, too, gave an evasive answer. Finally the dramatist and novelist were brought together and induced to collaborate, and the result is “Peter Stuyvesant.”

The first thing to be considered in a strictly historical play is accuracy, and the Astor and Lenox libraries were ransacked for this purpose. From the mass of material secured a scenario, or outline of the play, was drafted and submitted to Mr. Crane. He approved of it, and then it was found that time was flying; the winter had passed and spring was slipping by. It was decided to go right ahead with the scenery from the scenario without waiting for the play – an unusual proceeding. Homer Emens, one of the leading scenic artists of the country whose work is known not alone to the theatre-going public, but to the visitors to the National Academy of Design and the exhibitions of the Society of American Artists, was engaged.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 365 – “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (scale models, part 2)

Part 365: “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (scale models, part 2)

Below is an article depicting Joseph A. Physioc’s studio in New York, published in “The World” during 1898 (March 6, page 43). It provides great insight into the scenic art profession and design process at the end of the nineteenth century. Here is the second of four installments:

“The average person who goes to the theatre and is delighted and amazed with the beauties of the settings has the most shadowy idea of how they are brought about. He cannot grasp the enormous amount of work involved.

When a scenic artist is engaged to make the settings for a new production. The play itself is first read to him, or he may be permitted to read and study the play for himself. The manager determines how elaborate the scenes are to be.

The scenic artist is supposed to be able to roam over the wide world. He must know how a bungalow looks in India and make himself familiar with the vegetable life and foliage of the country. He must go research back in ancient Egypt of into modern Africa. He must know architecture and the habits and life of the people who appear in the play.

Of course the scenic painter carries these things and a thousand others that he must know in his head. But he must know where to turn for them. Sometimes the research requires months.

Then he must carefully study the action of the play and make all allowances for any business that is of more or less importance. He must preserve the harmonies. For instance, the surroundings of the romantic play like “Under the Red Robe” would be entirely different from a pastoral play, although they might be held in the same place. That which is called the optique de theatre must be preserved.

The scenic artist must so design the scenery that it may be easily handled, and above all, every piece must be so made that it will pass through a door of 9 feet 6 inches. That is the size of doors of baggage cars, and it is expected that every play will “go on the road.”

Physioc is now working upon the scenery for “The Bonnie Brier Bush,” and it serves as an excellent opportunity to illustrate the method of preparing for a big production.

After reading the play, he secured pictures of Drumtochty – actual photographs. He secured photographs of the houses and the furnishings. He read up on the manners of the people and made sure about the tables and chairs and the clocks and all manner of things.

Having gathered his material he prepared to lay out the scenes. First he drew a sketch on a piece of paper – a rough pencil sketch. Some of the minor interior scenes he worked out swiftly enough. The more important scenes were studied over for a long time. A day was spent over the final sketch of the third set scene, which is the most effective of the play.

Then he set about making the model, and this is the most important part of the whole process. It is an exact miniature representation of the scene as it will appear on stage.

It shows the Drumtochty in the background, spanned by bridges. In the middle ground the road apparently sinks into a depression. On the right is a hill, on the left a rye field surrounded by a stone fence.

The first difficult thing is perspective. Stage perspective is absolutely false, according to the rules of art and optics. But it is true to itself. The reason lies in the flat stage. The base line cannot conform to the line of vision. Therefore it is necessary to make an imaginary base line some five feet above the real line.

The color scheme is less important from the first. Your scenic painter must paint one scene to meet all manner of meteorological conditions. In this particular scene the action opens in the morning, late in midsummer. The mist is rising from the river and the mountains. This effect is secured by means of gauze and screens. Then the sun shines in splendor. Everything is bright and brilliant. The rye n the field is waving, the leaves in the trees are rustling. The lights are largely responsible for this effect.

Then a tremendous mountain storm breaks forth in darkness and fury. Again are the lights is to be depended upon, but the scenery must be so painted that the lights can be effective.

The rear drop is made to bear the burden. It is translucent. Throwing a light in front with the back dark makes one effect. A light back of the drop produces another. Wherefore it will be seen that the painting of these drops is a silicate matter. They must be effective, artistic, and have a similitude of truth under wholly different conditions.

Physioc finishes his models very carefully. He makes them to a scale of three-quarters of an inch to a foot. Every tree is in its place and painted carefully. The foliage is cut out exactly, as it is in a finished scene. And this is the only work that the artist does not do himself.

The finished model is firmly supported on a frame. It is about three and a half feet long. Then it is taken to the miniature stage for the final test. It is slipped in place and it only remains to turn on the lights.

In order to carry out the illusion, this little stage has a proscenium arch. It has footlights of different colors and all manner of other lights, including a calcium effect. The lights can be regulated so that any degree of brilliancy may be had. Physioc has established an electric-light plant of his own, simply for his miniature stage.

The switchboard is exactly like that in a theatre. It is much bigger than the stage itself. There are red lights, blue lights, combinations giving the effect of dawn, of early morning, of high noon, of dusk, of night, of storm and moonlight, every possible thing in the way of lighting on a stage is shown with this model. Nothing is left to guess work. It is perfectly demonstrated how a finished scene will look. If there is anything wrong, it can be corrected.

If you ever look at scenery at close range, you will understand what an advantage this miniature is. Physioc has found this device, which is his own invention, of enormous value. Often he has torn a model apart because the test showed that it was not satisfactory.

If the model meets with approval, then the making of the actual scenery begins. Of course the rear drop is the first thing painted, as this dominates the whole setting.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 364 – “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (Physioc’s studio, part 1)

Part 364: “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (Physioc’s studio, part 1)

To fully understand the life and times of Thomas G. Moses, I am including a newspaper article describing a New York scenic studio from 1898. It provides great insight into the scenic art profession at the end of the nineteenth century. The article describes J. A. Physioc’s studio and his art. It was published in “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43). By 1899, Moses would also work in New York for Henry Savage at the American Theatre. Physioc was only one of many scenic artists whom Moses would compete with for work in the Big Apple. Here is a little background on Physioc to place him in context.

Joseph Allen Physioc (1866-1951) was born in Richmond, Virginia to J. T. Physioc. J. T. Physioc would later be listed as president of Physioc Studios, Inc., with his son and grandson as treasurer and secretary. The Physioc family moved to Columbia, South Carolina, when Joseph was four years old. Interestingly, one of Joseph’s childhood playmates was Woodrow Wilson (Tampa Times, 4 August 1951, page 2).

Physioc’s theatrical career started in small venues thoughout the south. He tried his hand in Alabama, and then headed to New York City after gaining some experience. He studied his trade at the Metropolitan Opera while working as an assistant designer (Index Journal, Greenwood, SC, 4 August, 1951, page 3).

By the age of 27, Physioc received a contract to stage Bernard Shaw’s “Arms and the Man” for Richard Mansfield at the Herald Square Theatre. His success with this play and others propelled him to rank among those at the top of his profession in New York. Physioc worked as Augustin Daly’s “house artist” at Daly’s Theatre in New York City and for twelve years traveled with Richard Mansfield as his “special artist.” Later in life, he moved to Columbia, returning to his family after his eyesight began to fail and he could no longer paint. In 1951, Physioc passed away at his son’s home (Joseph A. Physioc, Jr.).

Advertisement in Julius Cahn’s Official Theatrical Guide for Physioc Studio Co. from 1900.

I am posting this article describing Physioc’s studio and his artistic process during 1898 in four installments due to its length. It was the second line of the article that caught my eye when I was doing research, especially after delving into the histories of Strong, McDonald, and other scenic artists who belonged to the Theatrical Mechanics Association. The top scenic artists were also knowledgeable stage mechanics. Physioc was also an electrician.

Here is the first installment of the article:

“The studio of Physioc is a workshop as well. He says that no man can be a really successful scene painter unless he is also a stage mechanic. His success has made his opinion of value. He painted Daly’s and Mansfield’s scenery for years. The young man’s studio is a wonderful place. To begin with it is perhaps the largest in the world. It occupies the greater part of what was a five-story stable at No. 519 West Thirty-eighth Street.

The building was in the form of the letter U, Physioc filled the front with glass and roofed the open space with a skylight. You ascend to the studio by means of fire escapes on either side. Between them are suspended paint frames. The frames can be lowered forty feet. Four drops can be painted at one time. A cyclorama drop, that is, one which encircles the whole stage, ninety feet wide, can be painted without rolling. This is the advantage of the great space. The paint-bridge is always stationary.

Sectional of Physioc’s Studio from “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43).

Detail of Physioc’s Studio from “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43).

In addition to the paint-bridge there are property rooms where all manner of things for the stage are made: the electric-light room, the model room and the miniature stage.

“Usually a scenic artist does nothing but paint,” says Physioc, “Yet he is held responsible for the whole setting and scene. The properties are very important accessories. Therefore I design and make them all. This insures a harmony, a completeness and accuracy which might be otherwise be lacking. I take it that the modern idea of stage scenes requires an artistic whole, a finished creation. I know exactly what the effect will be before a scene is painted.

I not only design the scene myself, but I make the accessories and arrange the lighting, which is almost as important as the scenery itself. I am not only a scene painter, but also function as the property man and electrician as well.

It is a strange and interesting art, this of scene painting. Time was when a painter made merely a drop and wings, or profiles. Now the scenic artist must make a composition. It is vastly different.”

This was 1898 and a crucial period during the development of degree productions for Scottish Rite stages in the Southern Jurisdiction. The scenery now used in Yankton, South Dakota, is from this same year.

1898 scene by Sosman & Landis Studio (Chicago) for Wichita, Kansas. This scenery is now in Yankton, South Dakota.

1898 counterweighted lines by Sosman & Landis Studio (Chicago) for Wichita, Kansas. This counterweight system travelled with the used scenery collection and was installed in Yankton, South Dakota. Photograph from November 2017 with Rick Boychuk when we examined the rigging.

To be continued…