Painting Technique – Page 2

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar: Reflections about Scottish Rite Scenery, Spatter and Lighting

Reflections about Scottish Rite Scenery, Spatter and Lighting

For some artists, the use of spatter is always the final step in painting every backdrop. Shaking a brush to scatter little dots of warm and cool colors throughout the painting completes the composition. This was not a common technique before the 1920s.

Spatter is used for a variety reasons. It can break up solid areas in a setting and provide texture. It can help shape and define objects such as tree trunks, interior walls, draperies, meadows and the exterior of buildings. It may suggest atmospheric conditions, such as rays of light emanating from clouds overhead or a hazy landscape.

Spatter used to enhance the distance of the landscape. Detail of Scottish Rite drop in Joplin, Missouri.

Spatter used to create texture for painted drapery. Scene from the Joplin Scottish Rite.

Spatter used to create texture on tree trunk. Scene from the Scottish Rite in Joplin, Missouri

Cool spatter used to reflect the cool lighting conditions in a crypt scene. Scene fromt the Joplin Scottish Rite.

Orange and blue spatter used in forest scene at the Scottish Rite in Hastings, Nebraska.

Sometimes, it is intended to help the composition, anticipating the possibility of a poor lighting design. As many of us know, certain light colors can “kill” portions of a painted scene, sapping the life out of the color. Spatter is a way to resuscitate a scene when poorly lit with an inappropriate color choice. Some individuals in charge of lighting a historic scene may not be familiar with the demands of two-dimensional settings and let one color dominate their palette – green for forests, red for hades. Proper lighting that mixes a few colors can make backdrops appear as magical and transformative. Uninformed choices in regard to color and intensity will make a backdrop static and lifeless. I have walked into many Scottish Rite buildings where the lighting fails to show the potential of what is possible on stage; the backdrops are lit with whatever color is predominant in the scene. Lighting is an important aspect of Scottish Rite degree productions as the scenes were designed with specific scenic illusions in mind and specific lighting. Often the border lights are red, blue and white. When more colors have been added in contemporary systems, they are seldom balanced to enhance the painted settings.

The Masonic stage crew often does not realize that there are transparent and translucent sections in painted compositions, intended for surprise revelations or the magical appearance of a hidden object or message. In some instances beautiful woodland scenes have the ability to depict brilliant sunsets, and this scenic effect has been forgotten over the decades. Stained glass windows in cathedrals will glow, enhancing the setting for a degree. Many Scottish Rite stage crews no longer realize the potential for each painted setting as a lot of the backdrops are no longer used during a reunion. Declining membership, shrinking stage crews, and the loss of backstage “memory” are all factors that now conceal these popular visual effects.

As Scottish Rite theaters continue to upgrade their lighting systems, some theatre consultants and system installers fail to understand that potential of historical backdrops and their lighting needs for degree productions; borders lights are replaced with a few individual lighting instruments. Clients are promised that the actors will be more visible with modern lighting, yet the painted illusion becomes collateral damage. Some of the new lighting systems for Scottish Rite stages have destroyed the historical aesthetic of the venue when the primary focus is redirected to the sole illumination of the actor – not the stage picture. Instead of placing an character within a scene as part of a unified whole, the performer is now placed in the midst of unevenly lit stage pictures that appear flat and unrealistic. The magic is disappearing.

The Hastings Scottish Rite was one just example of how a new lighting system was designed and installed for a historic venue without taking into an account that the purpose of the stage and that majority of performances would use painted drops. Sadly, all of the painted scenery now shows a series of “hot spots” across the top, accentuating wrinkles and other flaws on the painted surface. The previous border lights that provided a general wash over the painted surface were replaced with instruments that were not intended to illuminate large-scale paintings.

Border lights at the Santa Fe Scottish Rite. The system originally included blue, red and white lights. When a new system was installed in the 1930s, the new lamp colors were red, green and white, making nighttime scenes difficult to stage. The lights now hav an haphazard mix of red, green, blue and white lights.

Traditional border lights above a Scottish Rite stage in Madison, Wisconsin. These were the standard way to light painted scenery, providing a general wash over the painted backdrops. Sometimes, there were also strip lights placed along the bottom of each scene too.

The new lighting system for the Scottish Rite stage in Hastings, Nebraska, that replaced the original border lights.

The new lighting system at the Scottish Rite in Hastings, Nebraska, does not light painted scenery without throwing “hot spots” on the composition. They have seventy lines and over forty historic backdrops.

Strip lights at the Santa Fe Scottish Rite. these were placed on the floor behind leg drops to illuminate the lower portion of painted backdrops upstage.

In terms of modern lighting systems in Scottish Rite theaters -the Scottish Rite scenes from the 1920s that incorporated spatter into the painting process do better than those without. However, there is only so much the scenic artist can do to protect a composition from poor lighting conditions.

To be continued…

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar: The Joplin Scottish Rite, July 3

The Joplin Scottish Rite, July 3

We returned to Minnesota on July 2 at midnight after the long drive from Joplin, Missouri. Over the course of eighteen days, we visited ten historic theaters and I was able to document historic scenery at seven. The trip was intended not only for research, but also for the marketing of our new company Historic Stage Services, LLC (www.historicstageservices.com)

In addition to the book release event at the Santa Fe Scottish Rite theater, I photographed and catalogued entire Scottish Rite scenery collections in Omaha, Nebraska; Hastings, Nebraska; Cheyenne, Wyoming; Salina, Kansas; and Joplin, Missouri. I also photographed historic scenery at the Atlas Theatre in Cheyenne and the Tabor Theatre in Leadville, Colorado. The Tabor was especially exciting as I dug through wings, borders and roll drops that had been stored since the turn of the twentieth century.

As we drove home, I began the laborious task of labeling thousands of photographs. It is at this point that I am able to identify defining characteristics of specific collections, especially when examining images of painted details. Then I go through each historic venue and construct the current inventory and how it has been altered, added to, or shifted over the past decades. As I went through my pictures, I was able compare compositional layout, painting techniques, color palettes, and drop construction for a variety of scenic studios. My trip provided me with the opportunity to closely examine the work of competing studios over the course of decades in a very short period of time. This allows the visual aesthetic and construction information to remain fresh in my mind.

I am in the depths of examining the Fabric Studio of Chicago and its link to Toomey & Volland of St. Louis, Sosman & Landis of Chicago, Kansas City Scenic Co., and the Great Western Stage Equipment Co. of Kansas City. My last stop at the Joplin Scottish Rite confirmed a few of my suspicions in regard to a shift in scenic studio practices and art during the 1920s. A younger generation took over the innovation in stage design and technology. Men, and in some cases women, ascended to the top of their profession and eclipsed the previous generation of scenic artists. This does not mean that they were better or worse, just different. A shift was occurring in the field of scenic art. Seasoned artists left their positions with the “old guard” of scenic studios and began to create their own new studios, causing old alliances to crumble. This also market the collapse of a unifying aesthetic for the stage. Gentlemanly agreements between studios during the first two decades of twentieth century ceased and new fabrics were introduced as an alternative for the common cotton sheeting of backdrops.

Painted detail at the Joplin Scottish Rite created by an older scenic artist in the traditional style.

Another example of a setting created in the traditional style of scenic art for the Joplin Scottish Rite.

At the Joplin Scottish Rite, it is apparent that some of the drops were created by an older scenic artist still working in the traditional style of scene painting, but the color palette shifts to the predominance of brighter colors. The use of horizontal seams for drop construction, jute webbing at the top and pipe pockets at the bottom began to appear across the country. This method of fabrication followed the construction of fabric draperies for the same venues.

In terms of netting, the individual drops of glue on knotted intersections were replaced with swathes of glue brushed along entire edges, forming a crusty perimeter that greatly reduced the necessary labor to create a cut drop. Similarly the painstaking placement of foils that allowed a scene to sparkle, or suggest a fiery reflection, begin to be replaced with a layer of metallic flakes and glitter-like product. This again saved the amount of later needed to create a similar effect.

Cut drop and backdrop at the Joplin Scottish Rite for the 18th degree.

Detail of the Hades cut drop in Joplin, Missouri. Note that foil strips are no longer used to suggest the fiery reflections of the underworld.

Paper-backed foil strips were attached to backdrops during the nineteenth and early-twentieth century to simulate fiery reflection and make the scene sparkle.

The Scottish Rite scenery in Joplin also depicts the use of spatter for a painted composition. Bright blue, mineral orange and other colors are spattered across the final painting. In some cases, the use of spatter subdues an earlier application of colors that are too bright to begin with, so another layer of paint must help recede into the background. In some of the Joplin scenery, spatter almost obliterates the detail, yet enforces depth in the painting.

A partial view of the leg drop and backdrop for the catacombs scene at the Joplin Scottish Rite. This scene is also titled “The Crypt” in some areas.

Detail of painted spatter on a backdrop at the Scottish Rite in Joplin, Missouri.

I regard these modern painting techniques that eventually shifted the evolution of scenic art with some bias; I prefer the older style. I associate traditional scenic art techniques with that of the Dusseldorf and Hudson River schools. There is a soft, but dramatic atmosphere that visually envelopes the painted composition. Although there are subtle differences in paint techniques, such as glazing or the opaque application of colors as I have previously examined, there is a uniformity of brush stroke and final aesthetic. The modern school of scenic art takes a subtle departure from this aesthetic. Not always visible from the audience, it becomes apparent as one approaches the scene. Both the traditional and modern fall apart into areas of separate color, as the painting should, there is a distinct difference to the educated eye.

Similar composition in painting by Thomas Kincaid, but distinctly different from the overall aesthetic of the Hudson River School artists

Here is the best parallel that I can think of, and it pertains to the work of fine art. If you take a landscape painting produced by a Hudson River School artist and compare it with the paintings of Thomas Kincaid (Painter of Light), you can see the shift. There is romanticism in each composition, an attempt to relay atmospheric conditions, a sense of beauty and an attention to detail. However, Kincaid’s paintings are distinctly contemporary. For me, they are slightly “off” and don’t capture what the nineteenth century artist conveyed to their audience.

This is what I see happening in the scenic studios during the 1920s, an approach that has its foundation in some traditional scenic art techniques, but the final product is slightly “off.” The modern scenic art compositions evolve in two distinct directions. One way is a final product that is too clean, crisp, and carefully blended; this is the direction of Hollywood and the creation of scenery for film settings. Beautiful techniques and lovely compositions, but a distinct departure from traditional stage painting. After all, it is creating scenic illusion for a new art form – one that needs greater detail for the camera and close-ups. The second direction is much less controlled. The technique isn’t quite there, so the composition is altered with layers of spatter over high contrast areas in order to unify the entire composition. This is not meant to say that either of these approaches is a lesser art form, but they are a distinct departure from a previous stage aesthetic.

Over the next week, I will start to compare various painting techniques and their characteristics before returning to the life and times of Thomas G. Moses in 1903. This helps me as I approach examining the “first golden age” of Scottish Rite scenery production. This is the surge that takes place just prior to WWI. The 1920s then usher in the “second golden age” of Scottish Rite scenery production before everything begins a slow descent.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 410 – “Art on the Stage” 1881, Other Materials Used

Part 410: “Art on the Stage” 1881, Other Materials Used

“The Building News and Engineering Journal” published an article on the art of scene painting in 1881. Here is the third, and final, part.

Bag of Van Dyke Brown pigment. Photograph by Marc D. Hill. He has some amazing pictures. Here is the link: https://hiveminer.com/Tags/old,powder

Ultramarine blue dry pigment. Photograph by Marc D. Hill. He has some amazing pictures. Here is the link: https://hiveminer.com/Tags/old,powder

Bag of turquoise b pigment. Photograph by Marc D. Hill. He has some amazing pictures. Here is the link: https://hiveminer.com/Tags/old,powder

“Other Materials Used
The scene-painter, however, is not confined to colours in producing his effects. There is a number of other materials of great importance in scene-painting. The gorgeous dashes of blue, crimson, yellow, and purple that make the resplendent fairy grotto are not alone sufficient. The glitter that is seen on the many-coloured stalagmites and stalactites is produced by ordinary gold and silver leaf. Sometimes it becomes necessary to produce upon the scene a smooth, glittering surface which shall be coloured. This is produced by foil papers. They are made of paper with a polished metallic surface, and are very effective in fairy scenes. What are known as bronze powders are made of all shades. They are metallic powders of gold, silver, bronze, steel, blue, red, purple, and other shades. A brush full of glue is drawn across the required surface, and the bronze is spread over it. The consequent appearance is that of a rough metallic surface similar to that frosted silver.

In some scenes it is necessary to represent precious stones. The jewels in the walls of some Eastern despot’s palace cannot be imitated by paint with a sufficient degree of realism to stand the glare of gas and calcium light. Hence, theatrical art resorts to what are called “logies.” These are made of zinc, in the shape of a large jewel, and are set in the canvas. They are made in all colours; and thus, by a very cheap and easy process, the barbaric splendour of Persia or of Turkey may be reproduced in all its original opulence. Sometimes it becomes necessary to represent that changing sheen that is visible upon highly-polished metals when exposed to the rays of the sun. This is done by means of coloured lacquers. The surface of the metal is painted, and a wash of those lacquers, blending from one tint into another, is put over it. The light reflected from these different coloured washes produces the desired effect, and gives a highly realistic representation of a surface of metal.

An ice scene is never complete without some thing to produce glitter and sparkle. This effect is produced by “frostings” of crushed glass, which are made to adhere to the canvas in the same manner as the bronze powders. The elaborate ornamental work of interior scenes is always done by means of stencils cut in pasteboard. There are books published on fresco painting which give large numbers of beautiful designs for panels, ceilings, mouldings, and other ornamental work. Every scene-painter has a collection of these works. The ingenious artist, however, is constantly combining the different designs, and often invents new ones. He is thus enabled to present to the public an ever-changing variety.

The last thing that the scene-painter does before the production of a new play is to have his scenes set upon the stage at night in order that he can arrange the lighting of them. The “gas-man” of a theatre is the artist’s mainstay. It lies in his power to ruin the finest scene that was ever painted. Ground lights turned too high upon a moonlight scene, calciums with glass not properly tinted, or the shadow of a straight edged border-drop thrown across a delicate sky – all these things are ruin to the artist’s most careful work. The proper lighting of a scene is, therefore, a matter that requires the most careful study. The artist sits in the centre of the auditorium and minutely observes every nook and comer of his scene under the glare of gas. Here a light is turned up and there one is lowered until the proper effect is secured. The gas-man takes careful note of his directions, and the stage-manager oversees everything. Long after the audience has left the theatre on the night before the production of a new play, the stage-hands, the artist, and the stage manager are at work, and the public sees only the charming result of their labours when the curtain rises on the next night.

The end.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 382 – The English and Central European Influence on American Scenic Art

Part 382: The English and Central European Influence on American Scenic Art

When I first started working as a scenic artist, I noticed regional discrepancies, both in regard to paint consistency and painting techniques. At first, I attributed the difference to historic versus contemporary paint application. It seemed that I worked with more solid colors, while some of my co-workers used a series of glazes. Regardless of differing painting techniques, our approach during the preparation of the composition was similar; layout and drawing techniques remained consistent.

My initial perception of “historic” versus “contemporary” painting techniques has gradually shifted to the idea that there were two distinct influences on the evolution of American scenic art, thus establishing two geographically defined schools of scene painting. Each tradition shaped a scenic artist’s painting process, particularly the mixing of paint and painting technique. These next few posts are an attempt to identify the two nineteenth-century approaches to scenic art in America and the various hybrids that developed during the twentieth through twenty-first centuries.

Two distinct scenic art traditions rose to prominence during the nineteenth century, each taking hold of particular region in the United States with not only a fierce passion, but also undying loyalty. The era that am focusing on is from 1850 to 1890; during this forty year period there was the development of two dominant approaches in the application of paint to theatre scenery – solid colors and glazes. Please understand that I am not delineating between the use of dyes versus dry pigment, as that also became its own unique tradition when creating drops that could be packed into a trunk for touring shows. In this post, I am specifically presenting two scene-painting traditions that found fertile ground in America and established two schools of scenic art associated with geographical regions – the East Coast and the Midwest. I will get to the contributions of other countries and the development of scenic art along the West Coast in separate posts.

The English and Central European schools of scenic art settled in the United States in the East and Midwest, respectively. Each had a distinct aesthetic in terms of landscape compositions, coloration, and paint application. The New York (English school) style built up a composition with a series of translucent layers – going from light to dark colors. The composition’s foreground held the action and detail, with the middle ground and background fading into an airy distance.

This is what I consider the English tradition of glazing. Note that the composition is created with a series of slightly darker glazes going from light to dark.

This is what I consider the Central European tradition of solid colors applied in an opaque manner. Note that the foliage in the composition is created by going from dark to light.

Historical sources from the late-nineteenth century credit the distinctive approach of glazing to John Henderson Grieve, father to the brothers Grieve. During the first decade of the nineteenth century, he introduced a glazing technique that his rivals would contemptuously refer to as a “Scotch wash.”

In the English school of scene painting, the foliage is created with a series of slightly darker glazes going from light to dark.

There is the gradation of glazes that get progressively darker when you move from the background to the foreground.

The Central European tradition for scene painting is characterized the Chicago scenic art studio of Sosman & Landis. Notice that the foliage is worked up from a dark base to light definition.

Prior to that time, the dominant paint technique was the application of solid colors in scene painting. It would remain that way in Central Europe. Grieve was reported to demonstrate an “extreme gracefulness” in his wash application when painting landscape scenery. It was recorded that by the middle of the nineteenth century, this system of glazing was adopted by most English scenic artists in both London and abroad. New York scenic artists, and those who worked along the Eastern seaboard became closely connected to the English style of scene painting and the application of glazes.

Scenic artists in Chicago, St. Louis, and Kansas City were closely connected to a Central European school where scene painting used a more solid application of opaque colors.

An example of American scenic artists during the late-nineteenth century working in the Central European tradition of applying solid color and working up the foliage from dark to light.

My research also suggests that the Germanic influence, particularly the Dusseldorf school, also promoted this painting process. Furthermore, the compositional layout shifted from the primary action moving from the foreground to the middle ground. In a past installment (#127), I have examined the Sosman & Landis artist, David A. Strong, who was dubbed the last of the Dusseldorf-trained scenic artists.

Walter Burridge (1857-1913) would affectionately refer to Strong as “Old Trusty” and a member of the Dusseldorf School. Fellow artists heralded Strong’s skill, his “facile brush,” and “the quality of opaqueness peculiar to his school” (Chicago Tribune, Dec. 18, 1892). It is this “quality of opaqueness” that was in direct contrast to the English practice of glazing. The opaque application of solid color also meant that a subject could be worked up from dark to light. The use of glazes typically meant that the composition was worked up from light to dark. Each was successful, yet supported differing approaches when mixing paint and applying color to the composition. Furthermore, each final product was intended to be viewed from a distance. So in that sense there remained uniformity when viewed from the audience. Most nineteenth-century theatre patrons would not be able to identify the differing techniques and aesthetic nuances, but the scenic artists would.

This is the first of a series of posts where I will look at the established nineteenth-century American scene painting traditions that shaped the training and work of Thomas G. Moses and his contemporaries. In this world Moses trained exemplified an American hybrid painting tradition as he rose to prominence as a scenic artist.

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 366 – “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (translucent drops, part 3)

Part 366: “How Theatrical Scenery is Made,” 1898 (translucent drops, part 3)

An article depicting Joseph A. Physioc’s studio and his design process was published in “The World” (New York, 6 March 1898, page 43). It provides great insight into some nineteenth-century scenic art techniques. Here is the third of four installments describing Physioc’s studio and his artistic process:

Illustration of a Drop Curtain at Harris’ Hudson Theatre, painted by Joseph A. Physioc and published in the New York Times (30 August 1908, page 50).

“The drop in the third act of “The Bonnie Brier Bush” must be transparent, so it is made of the finest unbleached muslin. It is stretched on a frame and then given a coat of starch sizing. This is nothing more than a starch made into paste and thinned down. It is laid on with a kalsomine brush. This stretches the muslin very tight. If Physioc is particularly interested in a drop he may paint it himself, but it is more likely that he will turn it over to scenic painters, who can follow the model and do it just as well.

The whole scene is first sketched in with charcoal, after the canvas is laid out in squares to make sure of perspective. The painter works constantly beside his canvas. The bridge is only three or four feet wide. He cannot walk away and see how the thing will look, and it would not do him much good if he did, because a scene in daylight bears little resemblance to one at night.

Joseph A. Physioc’s paint palette table in his studio. Illustration published in “The World” (March 6, page 43).

The painter simply has to know what his work will look like illuminated by artificial light. In daytime the best scenes are frightful looking things, outrageous daubs for the most part, utterly untrue in drawing and color. Having sketched the scene with charcoal, the painter may lay it in with ink in order to preserve it. Then he lays on a thin priming.

“It looks to be blind and uncertain work to a lay man,” said Physioc, “but the painter knows exactly the effect he is producing. Things that look like mere daubs to the unskilled eye have a deal of meaning to the educated one. The painter can see the broad effects toned down, the yellow turned whiter, the purples grayer, the blues deeper, the pinks pinker. One has to learn these things by going constantly to the theatre and watching the effect of light on scenes and the results of using different tones.”

Nothing emphasizes more clearly the difference between a landscape or figure painting and scene painting than the palette. Your oil artist has a palette which he holds in his thumb and upon which he mixes his colors daintily. The scenic painter has a palette. It is a bench seven feet long and a foot and a half wide. There is a little shelf on the back, which runs the whole length. This supports the colors, placed in dishes like the abominable things in which vegetables are served in country hotels.

The paint palette table of Jesse Cox, currently on display at the Theatre Museum in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa.

a paint dish and brush on Jesses Cox’s palette table, now on display at the Theatre Museum in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa.

There are thirty-two colors in active use as a rule. Of course, a painter blends now and then in order to get an effect. When you look at one of the drops on the frame, you wonder what the painter does with the thirty-two colors. They look amazingly untidy. The painter dips his brush into a jar of very dirty water [size], gathers up some paint, mixes it on the palette and applies it in an offhand manner that suggests a determined effort to get rid of it.

A signed watercolor painting by Joseph A. Physioc that recently sold during an online auction.

When it comes to painting in the river in this “Bonnie Brier Bush” scene, the matter becomes delicate. To begin with, the Drumtochty is flowing along as peacefully and smoothly as Scotch dialect. But the storm causes it to overflow its banks and make trouble, just as the Scotch dialect does when there is too much of it.

The painter must make allowances for the rising and general misbehavior of that river, just as he must make allowances for the sky. The effect is gained by manipulating the back of the drop. If you look at the drop on the miniature stage with the lights in front the Drumtochty is peaceful. Place a light behind and it is moving over the banks and tearing down the bridge. Of course both scenes are painted in, and one or the other is brought out by the different position of the lights and the stereopticon. A stereopticon properly played on a drop prepared with this end in view can give almost any effect. The difficulty is in the preparation of the drop.

After the drop is painted for the sunlight scenes, it must be painted for the night scenes, the dark ones rather. This is done by painting the back. A boy takes his position at the back. A strong light is played upon the drop. It is plain enough where are the trees and other things through which the light is not to shine. The back of these is painted brown or black so that they are opaque. Whereas the sky, the interstices in the foliage and river are left translucent so that the red light behind it will suggest a sunset, and a blue light will convey the idea of a moon and so on.

It will, therefore, be seen that the relation between lighting and the scenery is peculiarly intimate, and Physioc’s reason for taking up the mysteries of lighting as well as painting is apparent. It may be remarked incidentally that in this third act in Ian Maclaren’s dramatized story the audience is in London, before Westminster, to be exact. The change is made in a few seconds.

“This Westminster drop is a good deal harder to paint that the Drumtochty scene,” says Physioc. “It doesn’t require any creative power or any great draft upon the imagination, but it must be exact for the reason that Westminster Abbey is a reasonably well-known piece of architecture. Not only is it necessary to make a close copy, but we must be careful about the coloring. As a matter of fact, the majority of people cannot see Westminster Abbey as it really is. Therefore we must paint it as the majority think they see it. This holds good in the whole realm of scenic painting. If we were absolutely truthful, if we copied nature as closely as may be, the scenes would be frightful failures. The truth, the actual thing would look not in the least a bit real. We must present what the greater number thinks is true, and this makes the difference between good and bad scene painting. We cannot forget for an instant that people look at our work over the footlights.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 306 – David H. Hunt and The Pike Theater Company

By 1901, David H. Hunt was listed as manager for the Pike Theater Company. It appears that theatrical management company of “Sosman, Landis, & Hunt” closed and other firms took over the management of their Cincinnati and Indianapolis venues. Hunt’s sole role became that of a stock company manager and his company toured the country, stopping in St. Paul, Minneapolis, Detroit, Washington, Baltimore, and New York.

The Minneapolis Star Tribune on July 1, 1901, reported that the company brought with it nearly “three carloads of scenery, specially designed and gotten up for the plays to be presented during the summer season in Minneapolis and St. Paul.”

“The Banker’s Daughter” was one of the shows performed by the David H. Hunt Pike Theater Company in 1901.

In Minnesota, the “David H. Hunt’s Pike Theater company” was performing several plays, including Bronson Howard’s “The Banker’s Daughter” and “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” In a July 14, 1901 interview with Hunt and company members, his scenic artist explained the importance of scenery for their company:

“People are just commencing to realize that good plays are frequently as dependent upon good scenery as good actors,” said Scenic Artist Slipper, “and it is certainly true that a play without the advantage of scenery would be a burlesque upon the modern methods of management” (Star Tribune, page 14). “We are told that Shakespeare’s plays were first produced without scenery, but we are not informed they were great success except as lectures or monologues of rare literary merit.” He continued, “The success of the drama depends upon the illusion it creates; acting is an illusion – that, is, it excites the auditor to tears over a situation which does not exist, or moves to mirth with an incident that is purely imaginary. So, too, is scenery an illusion. We show you a landscape in a production at the Metropolitan which seems to the spectator in front to stretch away for miles, whereas it is but a few rods distance from the eye, and, perhaps, no more that three feet away from the house, or the shrubbery, or the forest which seems so near you. Thus, if the actor deceives your ear with a cry which seems to have it in tones all the attributes of heart-felt sorrow and tragedy, the artist deceives the eye by producing an impression simply by a few touches of the brush and the proper combination of colors something akin to that produced by the omnipotent hand of nature herself as revealed in the far stretching landscape, or as is shown in the more artificial work of the man as applied to the architecture and the furnishing of apartments.”

Advertisement in the Star Tribune for the production of “The Banker’s Daughter” in 1901.

The following year, the Hunt’s stock company was performing Hall Caine’s “The Christian,” again touring across the country with the production. Newspapers reported that the his stock company had been in existence for nearly seven years, during which time it had played over 250 different plays and had appeared in almost 2,400 performances. This suggests that there was simply a name change from “Sosman, Landis & Hunt” to David H. Hunt for the same stock company.

The Evening Star reported, “Stock was a new thing when Mr. David H. Hunt decided that vaudeville was not a success at his Cincinnati theater, and installed the first stock company there since the famous old days when Davenport, McCullough and other old-time stars had appeared with the ante-bellum stock companies in the smoky city. Mr. Hunt was a young man, his company contained players who were themselves little known, and with the development that followed hard work and success the organization was brought to a standard of perfection. Mr. Hunt early decided that pecuniary success would only result from artistic success. He set about obtaining good plays and good players, with the result that people in Cincinnati accord the Pike Theater Company both consideration and affection. For several years the company played entirely in Cincinnati, then tried Minneapolis and St. Paul for spring engagements, next added Detroit to their list of cities and now adds Washington, New York and Baltimore” (Washington, D.C., 13 Sept. 1902, page 22).

The story for Hunt continues on a different trajectory and ends by 1911. In 1903, he marries stock company actress Angela Dolores (Detroit Free Press 21 May 1903, page 12). By 1906, Hunt was back in Chicago, managing a stock company for the Chicago Opera House. A newspaper article reported that “David H. Hunt who has considerable experience in this particular branch of amusement business, will assume active management, and he has made definite arrangements with important Eastern managers whereby he will offer their successes at popular prices” (Inter Ocean, 19 August 1906, page 26). Two years later, Hunt has returned to managing his wife’s touring production with William Duvre and Harry English(Cincinnati Enquirer 30 August 1908, page 26). This lasts for approximately five years. Newspapers report that her tour remained under the personal direction of Hunt and who promoted her as the “best known stock leading lady” (Fort Wayne Daily News, 16 Feb 1911, page 5).

But what happened to Sosman, Landis & Hunt? By 1902, Landis left the scenic studio due to health reasons. This left Sosman solely in charge of both artistic and administrative duties. He realized that he could not do it alone and repeatedly requested that Thomas G. Moses return to Chicago and work in the studio. Up until this point Moses had partnered with Will Hamilton, forming the studio of Moses & Hamilton. They were working in New York. The decade from 1894 to 1904 is one of the most interesting periods in the career of Moses.

We return to 1894 tomorrow, understanding one of the factors that caused Moses to depart the Sosman & Landis studio – for his second time – in 1894.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 295: Dry Pigment and Hide Glue

Yesterday I mentioned the difference between the artistic medium used by panorama artists and theatre artists. It is now time to clarify how Thomas G. Moses painted scenery his whole career. The 1924 Fort Scott scenery collection was also created in this same way. He used an artistic medium that was known to nineteenth century scenic artists as distemper painting. Scenic artists combined dry pigment paste and diluted hide glue called “size” to paint theatre backdrops.

Ground hide glue (center) and dry pigment. This picture was taken when preparing images to illustrate my chapter in the upcoming book “The Santa Fe Scottish Rite Temple: Freemasonry, Architecture and Theatre” (Museum of New Mexico Press, 2018).

The Chicago Sunday Tribune article “Paint Mimic Scenes, Men Who Have Found Fame in the Wing and Drop Curtains” described distemper painting (Dec, 18, 1892, page 41). The article reported, “the color work is all done in distemper and dries rapidly…The artist must not only be active but certain in the performance of his task. In using distemper the artist must paint solidly, otherwise his work will take the dirty complexion of thin oil and be ruined.” The articles reference to “paint solidly” meant making sure there was enough color, or pigment in the paint and that it was thick enough to completely cover the fabric. The paint application needed to appear opaque and not look like a colored water stain.

Dry pigment is pure color. It can be transformed into a variety of products, like colored chalks (pastels) or paint. The pure pigment colors are created from a variety of sources that can include plants, minerals, insects, and chemical processes.

The dry pigment is ground into a fine powder and mixed with water, prior to adding any binder. The pigment paste could also be stored in a container for quite a while. The worst that would happen is that it would dry out and harden. It the pigment paste did dry out, it only needed to be crushed up again and reconstituted with water.

Dry and wet forms of dry pigment and hide glue.

In 1916, Frank Atkinson wrote a book called “Scene Painting and Bulletin Art.” Some scholars believe that he described many of the practices commonly used at the Sosman & Landis Studios. In his book, Atkinson explained, “the medium for binding distemper is known as “size,” or sizing (page 154). He goes on to describe the purchase and preparation of the binder for scenic art. Any binder can be mixed with the pigment paste, but scenic artists commonly used diluted hide glue called “size.”

Hide glue is the gelatinous substance obtained from rendering animal hides and hooves. Think of the old threat about sending a horse to the glue factory. The hides are boiled to create a jelly that is dried. There are a variety of qualities and the strength of the final product can vary from batch to batch. This factor, as well as the actual preparation, directly contributes to the overall life expectancy of the backdrop. Once the hide glue is dried and solid, it is sold as a block, granules or fine powder. In this form it also has an extended shelf life and is easily stored for indefinite periods of time. Both dry pigment and dry hide glue could be easily stored and shipped to various locations.

Dry hide glue must be returned to a liquid state prior to mixing with pigment paste. There are various ways to prepare hide glue and much depends on personal preference. I like to soak the glue in water, ideally overnight, before slowly heating it up to thick syrup. It will eventually have the consistency of honey or molasses. You can purchase an expensive electric glue pots, use a double boiler on a stove top, or even a crockpot on the “low” or “warm” setting. Some people are very particular about this, but I am not. The big thing is to make sure that the glue doesn’t boil. Think of preparing hide glue like green tea, find the perfect temperature below boiling.

The quality and type of the glue will either make the syrup appear murky or clear. Reconstituted hide glue is further diluted with water – one part syrup to one part water to make “strong size.” Some artists used strong size alone to seal the fabric’s surface when painting with dye. Others mixed whiting into the strong size and create a primer for the fabric prior to painting a backdrop with dry pigment.

Strong size is further diluted with water to make working size, or size water. Due to the natural properties of the binder, once transformed into a liquid state, there is a very limited shelf life. It rots fairly quickly and smells of death. A way to prevent the quick failure of size water is to store it in a glass container and refrigerate it. You also never put size water in a plastic container, especially one that had been previously used to store another substance. Foreign properties will leach out of the plastic. You also never place the glue in an airtight container, otherwise you create your own little smelly science experiment. I plan accordingly and make fresh size each day as the age will also affect the efficacy of this binder.

My glue supplier is Bjorn Industries out of North Carolina. I have discussed my need for animal glue during restoration projects with their chemist and he recommended the product HC351. It is fairly clear, strong, and remains slightly flexible when properly prepared. Rabbit skin glue is my second favorite to work with as an alternative, but it is extremely strong and can set up too quickly.

If binder were not mixed with the dry pigment paste, the color would could not stick to the fabric surface. It would simply dust off over time. Poor preparation, high humidity and other factors can cause the binder to fail, allowing the pigment to eventually release from the fabric. This is a common problem with historical scenery collections. It is also a health hazard. Many dry colors are quite toxic if they become airborne and or inhaled. However, this is not solely an issue with historic dry pigment. ALL paints are toxic if allowed to become airborne and are inhaled. Think of spray paint. Many people often don’t understand the health hazards related to our seemingly “safe” and current pre-mixed products, especially the water-based versions. You have to know what you’re doing, be aware of your surroundings, and stay safe.

Wet and dry version of paint made with dry pigment and diluted hide glue.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 294 – The Native Sons of the Golden West’s Drop Curtain

Reed & Gross Panorama Company created large scale paintings for the California State Building with compositions that included: the harbor of San Francisco and the city, as viewed from Goat Island; Christmas in Pasadena; the Stanford Ranch in northern California; Leland Stanford’s Vineyard; Leland Stanford Jr. University in Palo Alto; New Years at Hotel del Monte in Monterey, Santa Barbara, and Fresno.

The California State Building at the 1893 Columbian Exposition.

Floor plan of the California State Building at the Columbian Exposition, 1893.

James D. Phelan was one of the California World’s Fair Commissioners in 1893. Later, he would become the mayor of San Francisco (1897-1902) and elected to the US Senate (1915-1921).

James Duval Phelan (1861-1930). Photograph from 1910.

He purchased a 20’ x 30’ painting from the California State Building after the fair. He intended to use it as the new drop curtain at the Native Sons of the Golden West’s Hall. They were constructing a new building in San Francisco and Phelan was the association’s president.

Unfortunately, the “handsome new building on Mason street, between Post and Geary” would never receive his donation.

NSGW Hall before the 1906 San Francisco earthquake.

NSGW Hall in San Francisco, California, constructed in 1911.

The new NSGW Hall was a four-story structure. The main meeting room was on the main floor and meeting rooms were situated on the other stories; fifteen rooms were used by the Native Sons and five rooms used by the Native Daughters. The Marine Engineers, Knights of the Golden Eagle and letter carriers also met in the building. The hall was intended for large meetings, as well as balls and entertainments. The stage in the main assembly room included “a handsome new drop-curtain and scenery for the entertainments,” according to the San Francisco Call (Volume 79, No. 71, 9 February 1896). But the drop curtain was not the one that Phelan originally intended for the opening of the building.

Interior of the California State Building at the Columbian Exposition. The mural that James D. Phelan purchased is likely the one immediately behind the statue.

Detail of the murals in the California State Building at the Columbian Exposition. The mural that James D. Phelan purchased is likely the one immediately behind the statue.

The San Francisco Call from January 10, 1896, included the article “A Fine Painting Spoiled” (page 8). The original mural measured 20’ high by 30’ wide and was produced by Thaddeau Welch, a California artist, for the California State Building at the Columbian Exposition. The article reported that the subject was “Golden Gate as Viewed from Goat Island” and had “attracted much attention at the World’s Fair,” costing Phelan $3,000 to procure.

The article continued, “On Tuesday it was found that the painting had been ruined by the careless persons who packed and shipped it two years ago. Instead of winding the canvas around a roller these bunglers wrapped it around a 4 by 4 inch scantling and every four inches the canvas is cracked so that it is doubtful if it can be used.” A scantling is a piece of timber of relatively slight width and thickness, such as a stud or rafter in a house frame.

I chuckled as I read this. The end results from the actions of ignorant people who don’t understand the proper handling techniques for a large painting. I suspect that, like many wall murals, it was constructed of oil paint and heavy canvas. This would have also been the common medium for panorama studio artists anyway. I doubt that they would have used the lighter weight distemper paint that was commonly used for theatre drops, especially as the painting wasn’t intended as a theatre backdrop.

That would also explain the excessive cost of the mural – $3,000! A drop curtain created with dry pigment and diluted hide glue in 1893 would have cost a fraction of that amount. At the beginning of the twentieth century, a backdrop typically ranged between $150 to $300. This makes me think that Phelan was paying for the artistic provenance of the piece.

I also believe that Phelan simply not understand the physical demands of a drop curtain, or how they were constructed. He probably thought – “Hey! That painting is about the same size as a theatre drop! We will need a new drop in the NSGW Hall and it even depicts San Francisco!” This is where I need to stop and explain something, a common assumption that continues until this day. Many people believe that historical drops are created with oil paints. It is a common misperception that I encounter quite often. It is understandable as these individuals simply don’t have the knowledge to understand that oil paint is often too thick and shiny for stage applications.

Oil paint for panoramas was different as they were lit with a diffused lighting source and not stage lights. Therefore panoramas were not subject to the same rules as theatre drops. The same principle works for the use of oils in fine art and murals; they are not subject to the harsh glare of stage lights. For this reason alone, the painting form the California State building that was purchased by Phelan would have been a disappointment.

Piles of dry pigment surrounding granulated hide glue.

It is also possible that the painting as a drop curtain would have also failed due to the thickness of oil paint if used as a roll drop. There is nothing to suggest that the four-story NSGW Hall had a fly system to raise and lower drops. Like most halls, the stage would have used roll drops. Roll drops really necessitate the use of dry pigment and diluted hide glue as the binder. This distemper paint, unlike oil paint, allows the fabric to remain flexible. The oil painting would crack. This also brings us to the article reporting that the painting cracked. This would not have been a disaster if the composition were produced with water-based paints, as they are easily reconstituted. With historical backdrops, cracked paint can easily be repaired with artful blending. That is not the case with cracks in oil paintings.

Then the article further reveals, “The package has been at Mr. Phelan’s home since its arrival two years ago. It was intended to open the building on the 26^th inst. And the loss of the drop curtain is a sad blow to those interested. Efforts will be made to see if it can artistically be retouched and pressed out smooth again.” It is unlikely that the oil painting was successfully “pressed” or “retouched.” The years in storage in possibly less-than-ideal conditions took its toll. Oil paintings don’t easily recover from creases and stretching. When wrinkles and cracks appear in distemper painting, such as theatre scenery, they are easily repaired and touched up.

The public perception is often that “anyone” can handle and move a big painting, such as a theatre backdrop. In reality, “anyone” can’t. You really have to know what you’re doing.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 248 – Men Who Found Fame in the Wing and Drop Curtains, the Scenic Artists

The same year that the Sosman & Landis Annex studio opened, an article appeared in the Chicago Sunday Tribune, “Paint Mimic Scenes, Men Who Have Found Fame in the Wing and Drop Curtains” (Dec, 18, 1892, page 41). Here is the continuation of that article started in installment #245.

“Chicago has every reason to feel proud of her scenic coterie. Out of its hundred or more members but a few can be briefly noticed. There are memories of poor Minard Lewis, an artist essentially English in feeling, some of whose “drops” are still preserved in the Grand Opera House; Lewis [Louis] Malmsha, whose finished work graced the old McVicker stage; John Mazzanovitch, whose witchery in waters with reflected foliage and charm of middle distance in exteriors was also associated with this house. All of these are dead. Richard Halley, at present winning laurels as a painter in Europe, was the scenic artist for Kelly and Leon in the halcyon days of minstrelsy and painted marbles in distemper almost as well as Kilpatrick does them at present in oil. David Strong, “Old Trusty,” still at work in this city, is the only survivor of the good old Dusseldorf school. Everything that comes from his facile brush – and he could walk over miles of canvas of his own painting – has the quality of opaqueness peculiar to his school and seldom found nowadays.

Ernest Albert is undoubtedly the best student in architectural work in this country. Everything that his deft hand touches is full of authority and rich in color. That he is also an idealist has been demonstrated by his spectacular creations, the first at the Chicago Opera-House and Auditorium. In interior decoration, tapestries, etc., he has few equals, and follows the same medium in distemper as the aquarelists. One of the great giants of the scenic world was William Voegtlin, the greatest deceiver of transformation effects that ever walked the paint bridge. He had a style peculiarly his own and seemed to incorporate the stunning effects of all schools, but was not without artistic weakness and peculiarities. In some respects his drawing had the weakness of Morgan, but his color was wonderfully vivid, and he was a grand master with foil. In this latter respect he was only rivaled by Thomas Noxon of St. Louis, a remarkable artist in spectacle. Voegtlin often ate and slept on the paint frame for weeks at a time during the rush of a great production. Then followed a period of dissipation, when his painting was very “red.”

Walter Burridge is the best foliage painter in this country, and is in all respects as an artist of out door nature the equal of Richard Beverly, who holds the palm for the line of work in England. The leaves of his foliage appear to be agitated, and his atmospheric feeling is remarkable.

Thomas G. Moses is an artist of solid merit who does an immense amount of work, but who has small opportunity to exercise his creative faculty.”

This list of scenic artists presented in the article continues tomorrow, but I want to pause here about the entry concerning Thomas G. Moses. He would soon leave the Sosman & Landis studio again – this time for New York. I have to wonder if the article was a turning point for him. The description of Moses as a scenic artist “who has small opportunity to exercise his creative faculty” must have been quite a blown. There is nothing like reading a statement that basically says, “unable to achieve his full potential.” Moses’ creative wings were clipped by studio work. I think that this one sentence spoke to a much larger issue at hand and I doubt that Moses was ever really happy at the studio, even after he became the company’s president. He saw the money that could be made and how little profit he received in the end, especially after all of his hard work, “hustling,” and extended absences from his family.

Then there is the aspect of personal artistry and public acknowledgement of your work by colleagues. The article negates his overall contribution to scenic design and art for the stage in 1892. When you look at some the exciting theatrical effects being produced for the stage by close friends and past co-workers, it must have been frustrating. He was now reduced to standing on the sidelines. Were Sosman & Landis primarily seeking profit through numbers? The article mentioned 1300 jobs in a decade. In 1892, Moses’ life and work at the Sosman & Landis studio appears to have been reduced to primarily painting stock scenery and drop curtains. He had a steady salary, but knew that there were much more exciting projects out there.

To be continued…

For past installments on the scenic artists mentioned above, see: Ernest Albert (installment # 131, 133-139, 145, 154, and 179); Walter Burridge (installments 127, 128, 131-140, 155, 171, 179, 185, 217, 218, 225, 231, 244, and 248); David Strong (installment # 65, 123-131, 153-155, 167, 199, 215 and 248); William Voegtlin (installment # 248); Thomas Noxon (installment # 89, 92, and 136) and Louis Malmsha (installment # 123-4, 127, 131, 133, 165-66, 178 and 198).