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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 341 – Green Room Gossip From 1895, the Scenic Artist

Part 341: Green Room Gossip From 1895, the Scenic Artist

Thomas G. Moses worked as the scenic artist at Chicago’s Schiller Theatre during 1895. He painted the settings for all of the productions on their paint frames. He also rented the old Waverly Theatre space as he had more work than could be completed at the Schiller.

I understand that it is hard to appreciate the complexity and demands of the painting process at the time that Moses was working, especially as I discuss the many projects that Moses’ was simultaneously completely during the late-nineteenth century.

Below is an informative article about the artistic process and the role of the scenic artist, published in the Times-Picayune (New Orleans, Louisiana) on February 10, 1895 (page 22). Here is a portion of the article from the “Green Room Gossip” section of the Times-Picayune. It provides additional context for Moses’ story as we move forward:

Heading from the Times-Picayune (New Orleans, Louisiana, February 10, 1895, page 22) that details activities related to the theatre.

“When a manager has finally decided to produce a new play, his troubles have just begun. One of the first things to demand is the proper pictorial equipment. Just as the editors of illustrated periodicals of to-day send their accepted articles to the artist for illustration, so the theatrical manager puts his play in the hands of the scenic artist. Sometimes periodical illustrations cause the reader to wonder whether the illustrator read the story before he made the drawing or whether the cuts got mixed in the composing-room. The play illustrator is too important a factor in the box-office success to admit of similar mistakes.

[The manager] sometimes employs a scenic artist by contract, but usually the necessary assistant rents the space he needs in the theatre and charges the manager for work done for him, just as he charges outside managers for work done for them. The scenic artist, then, receives the manuscript from the manager, reads it carefully, notes from the authors description of scenes whether the locality is special or general, and where the scenery must be “practical” – with real doors to open, trees which may be climbed, fences that may be jumped- and where it is possible to make it purely representative.

The locality is the first point, naturally. Even if none be mentioned, in these days of photography, it is far more satisfactory to find a real locality which would fit the play, and which would, therefore, be more likely to differ from a thousand and one other scenes which have already been used as backgrounds for other general plays. From photographs or sketches of real bits of scenery, the artist most often draws his ground plans for what he considers a good stage picture suited to the action of the play.

These models are then placed convenient to the eye and hand in his studio, the main feature of which is really the back wall of the theatre, with a great paint bridge running about 25 feet above the stage floor. There is a space about a foot wide between the bridge and the wall, and in the space hangs the paint frame. When the stage carpenter has built the scenes according to the artist’s model, the paint frame is lowered to the stage floor, a piece of scenery is attached to it by means of a narrow ledge at the bottom, drops are tacked on and set pieces fastened at convenient points, then the frame is raised until it is where the artist wants it as he stands upon the bridge. The frame can, or course, be moved up and down, at the painter’s need.

The prime coating of the canvas is made of a mixture composed of whiting, glue and water. The artist has several assistants, many of whom are virtually learning the trade, but in exterior scenes the scenic artist himself usually does all of the painting; in the interiors he makes the finishing touches. Of course the work is done by daylight, and it takes a very skillful worker in colors to know just what the effects the various kinds and degrees of artificial light will have upon the painted scenery.

And yet the scenic artist is not too highly valued from a financial point of view. It takes, usually, six or eight years to attain the necessary skill and an average income of $80 a week is considered very good. From the manager’s point of view there is a difference. The necessary scenery for a play will frequently cost $1500 for the carpenter work and twenty-five hundred dollars for the coloring, without taking into account the sums paid for costumes, properties and the innumerable other accessories to proper play-producing.

Until applause greets him on the momentous “first night” and large audiences greet him for many nights thereafter, the manager, be ever hardened, endures endless anxiety from the minute the new play is chosen. If one proves a failure, he will be out a considerable sum at the best, for critics will know if he attempts to use the same costumes and special properties later on, or if he saves the scenery until it can be worked in other plays, a piece at a time; and critics seldom keep anything to themselves. He may have a new scene painted on the back of the old and save a part of the carpenter’s bill, but this is frequently the best that can be done. With all his risks and frequent failures, the theatrical manager is usually the last one to complain. When a play does not go, he simply pays the piper and tries again.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 335 – Pittsburgh’s Avenue Theatre and Lumiere’s Cinématographe

Part 335: Pittsburgh’s Avenue Theatre and Lumiere’s Cinematograph

Thomas G. Moses painted the stock scenery for the Avenue Theatre in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania during 1895. The proprietor and manager was Harry Davis who advertised the venue as “the Mecca of refined Vaudeville,” (Pittsburgh Post Gazette 20 Nov. 1897, page 5). He also promoted that it was the “Family Avenue Theatre” and booked acts for ten hours every day – 1PM to 11PM.

A year after opening the Avenue Theatre, Davis, partnered with his brother-in-law, Senator John P. Harris, to present a new form of entertainment. They presented the first motion pictures to audiences in 1896. The Pittsburgh Post advertised this first exhibition of “Europe’s Reigning Sensation- Lumiere’s Cinematographe” to premiere at “The Avenue.” The Avenue Theatre was marketed as the theater “where the people go” (Pittsburgh Daily Post, 6 September 1896, page 16).

One of many illustrations available online illustrating the “cinématographe.”

The Lumiere brothers, Louis (1864-1948) and August (1862-1954). patented an improved cinematograph that allowed simultaneous viewing by multiple individuals. A cinematograph is a motion picture film camera that serves as both a film projector and printer. The device was first invented and patented as the “Cinématographe Léon Bouly” by French inventor Léon Bouly on February 12, 1892. “Cinématographe” was taken from the Greek for “writing in movement.” Due to a lack of funding to develop his ideas and maintain a hold on his patent, Bouly sold his rights to the device and its name to the Lumiere Brothers.

An advertisement for Harry Davis’ Avenue Theatre in Pittsburgh. In 1895 Thomas G. Moses painted the stock scenery for the venue. One year later, the theater included “Lumiere’s Cinematographe” as part of its “continuous entertainment” that was presented for ten hours each day from 1 PM until 11 PM.

The 1895 Pittsburgh Post newspaper advertisement for “Lumiere’s Cinematographe” included a lengthy description of this novel entertainment:

“The Lumiere Cinematographe is in brief the perfection of instantaneous photography. It reproduces life and motion with such fidelity that the beholder is well nigh awe-stricken. ‘Photography is revolutionized,’ says the entire European press, ‘and the Nineteenth Century has its greatest marvel. Hail, the inventive genius of Lumiere!’ The Lumiere Cinematographe is at present the greatest fashionable and scientific fad of London, Paris, Vienna, Berlin and the entire continent. Its exhibitions have been attended by the crowned heads, and have created a furore wherever witnessed. It is the original of all the life-photography inventions, having been shown nearly a year ago. That is the best and only perfect one is now confidently asserted. Descriptive lectures by the distinguished actor, Mr. Beaumont Smith, especially engaged as a large salary during the exhibition of the Cinematographe.” Smith was a singing comedian who traveled throughout the region.

Shortly after Harry Davis presented Lumiere’s Cinématographe at the Avenue Theatre, Edison’s Vitascope was showing at the nearby Bijou Theatre. This was Davis’ first competition and would mark a battle that would ensue across the country during the early years of moving pictures. Audiences were enthralled with this new form of visual spectacle, while panorama companies and the producers of other stationary spectacles feared the paradigm shift in the entertainment industry. It explains the theatrical manufacturers’ drive to incorporate even grander spectacles with movement for their staged spectacles, such as the chariot race in Klaw & Erlanger’s “Ben-Hur.”

In 1898, the “Chemical Trade Journal and Oil, Paint and Colour Review” included information about an upcoming photographic exhibition (Vol. 22, page 282). It reported, “The following article will be shown by Fuerst Bros. at the forthcoming photographic exhibition, Portmanrooms, London, W.: Lumiere’s cinematograph machine, Lumiere’s cinematograph special camera for projection only, Lumiere’s cinematograph blank negative gauge and positive film (perforated to either Lumiere of Edison gauge), Lumiere’s cinematograph accessories, Lumiere’s negative and positive films (a large assortment of English and foreign subjects), Lumiere’s photographic dry plates, extra rapid, orthochromatic, panchromatic and special X-Ray plates, Lumiere’s Citos paper, glossy and matter, bromides for contact printing and enlargements, Lumiere’s pyroacetone developer, Lumiere’s yellow screens, Hauff’s developers (ortol, amidol, metol, glycin, etc.) Hauff;s toning and fixing and fixing cartridges, Hauff’s thiocarbamid (stain remover), hydroquinone, eikonogen, ordinal, etc., chloride of gold in 15 grain tubes (Axe” brand, English make), nitrate of silver (cryst. And fuse, “Ax” brand, English make), and all photographic chemicals.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 317 – The Cincinnati Venue for the Chemical Paintings in 1843

Part 317: The Cincinnati Venue for the Chemical Paintings in 1843

Here is a description of the venue where Duncanson and Coate’s chemical paintings premiered in 1843. A Cincinnati Enquirer article describes in great detail the transformation for each visual spectacle: the Milan Cathedral, Jerusalem and the Crucifixion, the Interior of the Holy Sepulchre and Belshazzar’s Feast in 1843. This was the collaborative effort between African-Americans artist Robert S. Duncanson and the photographer Coates to create a unique form of visual spectacle. There are four descriptions will be posted tomorrow after examining the venue where the production was first presented in Cincinnati.

While researching the Cincinnati venue, however, I was surprised when I realized that the first performance actually took place in the same room where the Cincinnati Masons met. The advertised Concert Hall above the Cincinnati Post Office is also considered one of the first Masonic meeting spaces in the city.

White corner building (on right) was the first Masonic Hall (also used as a concert hall) above the post office in Cincinnati on Third Street. The second Masonic building (tan facade on right) building is depicted past the bank (building with the columns). This would be the same location as the third Masonic building too. Image from http://www.mormoninterpreter.com/where-in-cincinnati-was-the-third-edition-of-the-book-of-mormon-printed/

The two-story brick building was erected on the corner of Third Street and Bank Alley (now the corner of Third Street and Walnut).One of the men responsible for the construction of the building was Postmaster Elam Langdon. The Post Office was situated on the first floor of the building and the Masons used the second floor hall for their lodge room. The road called Bank Alley was also known to local citizens as either Post Office Alley or Masonic Alley. Interestingly, that same second-floor space was also advertised as a Concert Hall for musical performances during 1843. Newspaper advertisements for concerts, such as that by Max Bohrer, noted the 1843 venue as “the Concert Hall, over the Post Office” (Cincinnati Enquirer, 13 June 1843, page 3).

This is the same concert hall above the post office where the chemical paints were displayed in 1843. The Cincinnati Enquirer, 13 June 1843, page 3

“Masonic Review” describes the history of early Masonry in Cincinnati and the cooperation of the various Masonic bodies to construct a Masonic Hall in the city. The first committee was composed of David Brown, William Burker and Postmaster Elam Langdon, “men of executive ability” (Masonic Review and the Masonic Journal, 1892, Vol. 76, page 15). “Subscriptions and dues were paid in bricks, lumber, labor &c., and in March, 1824, the first Masonic hall built in this city was completed at a cost of $2,437.72. The hall was a frame building, and was erected on the Town Lot, now the northeast corner of Third and Walnut…It was not until 1843 that an active interest was taken to build a second building, and in 1845 plans were submitted for a new building and approved.” The Hall was enlarged during 1834 as membership dramatically increased. This was the transitional step between the first and second buildings in Cincinnati. The second building was located just down the block on Third Street from the original corner building.

The third building was located on the same spot as the second building, just down the street from the original Masonic Hall. Image from: http://www.mormoninterpreter.com/where-in-cincinnati-was-the-third-edition-of-the-book-of-mormon-printed/

The following article was in the Cincinnati Enquirer on 14 Aug 1843 and describes the premiere of the Chemical Paintings (page 3):

“Daguerre’s Grand Chemical Secret Discovered! To be exhibited at Concert Hall, over the Post Office, every evening, until further notice.”

“Robert Winter, Jr. respectfully informs his friends and the citizens of Cincinnati generally, that stimulated by the assertion of Mons. Maffy, the proprietor of Daguerre’s celebrated chemical paintings, that it was impossible for any one in this country to imitate them, he has succeeded in producing the undermentioned pictures, which he confidently places before the public for them to decide relative to the merits of his productions, and whether he has not completely nullified Mons. Maffy’s assertion, by imitating or surpassing those painted by Daguerre himself, and which have so justly gained the admiration of the patrons of the Fine Arts wherever they have been exhibited.”

Here is the “Maffy” who Winter is referring to:

The first set “chemical paintings” credited to Daguerre and managed by Mons. Maffy.Article from Commercial Advertiser and Journal (Buffalo, NY) 30 June 1842, page 2.

“Each painting covers a surface of nearly two hundred square feet of canvas, and represents two distinct pictures, which form the peculiar style of execution, the varied nature and combination of the illuminating powers employed, produces changes the most astonishing, and at the same time the most natural, in the power of the artist, machinist or optician, to effect.

Appropriate music, selected and arranged expressly for the occasion, will accompany each change; and the proprietor confidently anticipates the exhibition will form one of the most attractive, moral and pleasing entertainments, ever offered to a Cincinnati audience.”

From the National Gazette (Philadelphia) 25 Jan. 1841, page 3. Note that the venue was in New York’s Masonic Hall.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 316 – A Duncanson and Coates’ – Chemical Paintings

Part 316: A Duncanson and Coates’ – Chemical Paintings

While researching the life and times of Robert S. Duncanson, I repeatedly stumbled across the mention of his collaboration with an African-American photographer named “Coates.” They created a form of visual spectacle called “chemical paintings.”

Contemporary authors repeatedly cite the same article from March 19, 1844, advertising “Chemical Paintings…four splendid views after the singular style of Daguerre.” I located other newspaper advertisements for the same show that predate this one, however, none credit either Duncanson or Coates. Chemical paintings originate in Cincinnati during 1843 which coincides with Duncanson’s participation in the project. Some scholars purport that Duncanson was the artistic mind behind the images while Coates took care of the technical side.

The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 11 Feb 1844, page 2.

Did “chemical paintings” refer to the paint or the process? In 1993, Joseph D. Ketner suggested that the compositions were created on light-sensitive surfaces and were allowed to develop under the auditorium lights with dramatic contrasts of lights and darks (“The Emergence of the African-American Artist: Robert S. Duncanson, 1871-1872”). They would have to be a reversible effect if they used the same canvases repeatedly. I discovered that they did use canvas, Ketner described, “With each of the images, the darkened auditorium was gradually illuminated, causing lighting effects in the pictures that thrilled the crowds.” So, front light on the composition caused the change? Ketner was much more fascinated with the collaborative aspect than the process, suggesting that was one of the earliest collaborations between a painter and a photographer in the United States.

I was intrigued with the actual process and theatrical venues for the presentation more than their collaborative effort. What Ketner, and all of the other authors failed to cite, was that the production actually opened in 1843 before touring under the proprietor’s name – Robert Winter Jr. “Chemical Paintings” opened during August of 1843 at the Concert Hall in Cincinnati and then went on tour for three years. The last advertisement that I found was when the show was in Richmond, Virginia.

The Cincinnati Enquirer, 4 Sept. 1843, page 3

The four scenes exhibited at the Concert Hall were listed as “the Milan Cathedral,” “City of Jerusalem and Crucifixion,” “Interior of the Holy Church of the Sepulchre,” and “Belshazzar’s Feast.” Newspaper advertisements promised, “Each painting possesses the peculiar properties of portraying two distinct Pictures on the same canvas” (The Cincinnati Enquirer, 4 Sept. 1843, page 3). I thought of the electric scenic theatres during the 1890s – FIFTY years later. Any scene lit by colored lights could alter the composition from day to night, especially if portions were backlit. Could it be that simple? I though of the colored panels on the back of a drop from 1867 to create a brilliant sunset.

Colored panels sewn to the back of a drop to create a brilliant sunset effect. The 1867 drop is one of many in storage at the Royal Swedish Workshop space.

Detail of colored panels sewn and glued to back of drop.

While on tour, three of the paintings were damaged during a fire and we learn a little more about their composition; portions of it were linen (Public Ledger 1 Dec. 1843, page 2). Obviously, the surfaces that were “light-sensitive” had to reverse for another performance the next day. Only one set of paintings toured. There was also no apparent competition, so they had the market on the secret. These were also not one-time-use, or disposable paintings on photographic paper as suggested by Ketner. I highly doubted that with the amount of detail described for the “reveal” in each scene that anything could be painted with fresh paint, or applied to the surface before another show. Maybe the “chemical picture” referred to the new and brilliant chemical-colors used to paint the linen backing – dyes. So what about Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre’s process, other than it was introduced worldwide in 1839? Ten years earlier this French artist and chemist came into contact with Nicéphore Niépce when obtaining a camera obscura for his work on theatrical scene painting from the optican Chevalier. Niépce had already managed to make a record of an image from a camera obscura using a process he invented – heliography.

I thought of something that Gene Meier mentioned a month ago – many of the early Chicago and Milwaukee scene painters were also chemists. Daguerreotypes use a silver-plated copper plate that is first buffed and polished. Then the plate is sensitized to light with iodine and bromine in specialized, light-proof boxes. A light-proof holder exposures the plate to capture the image. Then the plate is developed (“brought out”) over hot mercury, fixed by immersion in a solution of sodium thiosulfate and then washed with distilled water. The final step was to tone or gild the plate with gold chloride. I was stumped and could not see how this could be anything other than the utilization of Daguerre’s “light-proof boxes” on the back of a dyed section of linen. The images created by Daguerre seemed to be permanent and not reversible.

But I was thinking of how this spoke to the public’s insatiable appetite for visual spectacle and curious about the compositions and touring productions venues. One of their shows opened at the City Hotel in Brooklyn on December 20, 1843. A later article (Brooklyn Daily Eagle 11 Feb, 1844, page 2) described the Chemical Paintings for the Milan Cathedral scene: “The first appearance of the picture – which represents a day scene – does not impress the beholder with anything like an adequate idea of the subject; but presently the gorgeous hues of an Italian sunset fall upon it, and the turrets, spires and statuary of the Cathedral, as well as neighboring café and exchange, are bathed in a ruddy glare of light. To this twilight succeeds, when the picture assumes a beautifully calm and soft aspect. Finally, the shades of night fall upon it, and the moon darts her beams upon the tall pinnacles – which appear to stand out in bold relief, while the sky gradually becomes enlightened. At this point of the exhibition, the spectator involuntarily breaks forth in applause. But its grandeur and artistical skill are not fully apparent until the illumination takes place. Then you see persons clustering about the café and exchange, or going to the midnight mass, while the solemn notes of the bell and organ seem to invest the multitude with life and motion. It is really a very splendid thing” (15 February 1844, page 2). Ads promised “A glance at the “Cathedral of Milan,” when illuminated for the midnight mass, is alone worth the price of admission” (Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 20 February 1844, page 2).

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar: Part 61.

It’s Only a Canvas Sky, Hanging Over a Muslin Tree

At Colorado Springs, we encountered the first real snag in our cross-country journey to Santa Fe –new truck tires. This meant a slight delay and one that I could not afford to take. Without hesitation I continued on to Santa Fe in a rental car, leaving both traveling companions behind. I had an immovable deadline and a difficult task – photographing and processing twenty-nine degree scenes in seven days. There would be no stage crew or wardrobe department during each photo shoot, just Jo and I. We were up against the wall.

Santa Fe, New Mexico. View from Jo’s house.

Fall in Santa Fe with bits of summer dotting the landscape.

The warm lights of fall reflecting through the trees.

Color in the landscape and in the local architecture.

It was during my drive from Colorado to New Mexico that I finally felt able to breathe again. It was the mountains and the fall colors that energized my core. At the first glimpse of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, I finally felt that my soul was whole again and I was at peace. Every time I visited this area of New Mexico, I pondered how soon we could move here. I really am living in the wrong region, I thought. Picking up a handful of the area’s colorful dirt urges many to contemplate its ancient inhabitants; this is the inspiration that calls to many artists. It pulls at your soul and begs you to stay in the arid desert, capturing the vivid skies and tumultuous rainstorms. It makes me want to hike ancient trails and paint age old scenes.

During my week in Santa Fe, Jo and I worked non-stop, scheduling three photo sessions a day with a new groups of models for every shoot. Luckily, I ended up staying at Jo’s home so that we could “work” before work at the Scottish Rite and “work” after work at the Scottish Rite. We had been unable to secure enough volunteers from the Santa Fe Scottish Rite Reunion, so Masonic men were scarce to act as models. Jo brought in a variety of local residents and friends who added to our workload. This meant new people and meeting a variety of fascinating local artists and photographers- many who were transplants to the region from various areas across the globe. Even my traveling companions came into help for two days and once again, Andrew was handling the lines and Christee dressing people in wardrobe. Thank God for their help as I was starting to burn out.

As wonderful as the landscape and people were, I needed to be in a Scottish Rite theatre again. Every time I step onto a Scottish Rite stage, I experience a moment magic. The stage and painted scenery collections become living entities. It is something that passes on Masonic messages to each new generation and I find tranquility. I used to compare it to “coming home.” I step on a Scottish Rite stage, look up at the wooden battens, and become part of something greater than myself; it gives me purpose. Whatever I may have experienced at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, it had nothing to do with the Fraternity or Masonic principles. It was devoid of this magic. Standing under the stage lights, I realized that I would continue my calling elsewhere; seeking peace on other fraternal stages steeped in history.

View of the photo shoot from the arbor rail.

Throughout the entire shoot, Jo and I recognized that we were involved in something groundbreaking, standing on the edge of a precipice that contained something truly unique. Many historical painted scenes had been photographed throughout the decades, some even with costumed participants in static stage pictures. But we were Photographing 1912 degree productions with a contemporary photographic style where Jo activated various areas of the composition to suggest the life on stage.

To be continued…