Training – Page 2 – Drypigment.net

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 710 – Scenic Art Training

Part 710: Scenic Art Training

Over a year ago, I was contacted by a fellow scenic artist in the UK. She was searching for information about instructional guides that described the painting process in the 19^th century. It is fun to converse with and assist a fellow scenic artist who is also focusing on the history of scenic art. While keeping an eye open over the past year, I stumbled across “The Art and Mystery of Scene Painting” in “Britain at Work. A Pictorial Description of Our National Industries,” published in 1902. One particular sentence that caught my eye as I started to read the article: “In these pages, however, it is with scene- painting as an avocation rather than as an art that we are primarily concerned.” This is a loaded statement that signified a shift in the scenic art profession, and one that should be considered today.

Before I post this article in its entirety (over the course of the next few days due to length) there is something to consider about our theatrical past, our future and the training of scenic artists. I say this from the perspective of one who has been criticized for not sharing enough about my personal scenic art and restoration techniques.

I’ll start with the historical context of sharing scenic art techniques with fellow scenic artists, or the general public. During the 19^th century, the mystery of scenic art was unveiled in multiple publications. This continued into the twentieth century, although the process somewhat shifted to stress a simple avocation. During this time, the roll of the scenic artist as “genius,” “visionary,” and “master artist” starts to disappear. The scenic artist becomes the mere translator of a scenic designer’s vision. For stage scenery, another concept enters the public perception of scenic art, and that is the idea that “anyone can paint.”

All the while, numerous instructional pamphlets and publications began to appear, most accentuating that scene painting is more of an avocation than an art form, and it can easily be studied and mastered. These publications promote that a book can adequately instruct any student, or interested individual, to paint theatre scenery. Even the title of the 1902 article attempts to convey the “mystery” of the scenic art avocation. This was part of a growing trend where 19^th century scenic art techniques and stage effects are shared with the general pubic for enjoyment and reference. Innovative and intriguing mechanical effects even appeared in “Scientific American” as popular topics. In some ways, this was the equivalent of a magician revealing its secret to the crowd, as inquiring minds wanted to know. Another fascinating publication was “Magic Stage Illusions and Scientific Diversions Including Trick Photography,” compiled and edited by Albert A. Hopkins in 1897. This is all part of a growing trend that intensified by the early twentieth century.

Meanwhile, between approximately 1850 and 1950, the perception of the art aspect to scenic art, becomes promoted as a craft. The scenic studios systematically cranking out scenery greatly contributed to this perception. The painting techniques and overall stage aesthetic of painted illusion also began to shift at this time. It is pretty easy to identify when examining backdrops over the course of several decades when they were painted; an artistry began to gradually fade, and is replaced with a more systematic and formulaic approach that has continued to this day. This does not mean that the skill wasn’t present in artists, but the paint application and actual training started to follow a different course. There is also the interesting introduction of the perception that a scenic artist’s job could be successfully completed by any well-intentioned and slightly skilled individual. In other words, with just a little time and some guidance, they could successfully paint stage scenery. In a similar vein, think about the manufacture of cars; a lot of companies make cars, but they are not all equal, ranging from $12,000 to $750,000. The all have four tires and a steering wheel, but there is a difference in quality, even when the basic function is the same.

Then we consider the actual training of scenic artists, as it began to shift from studio to school. I remain on the fence about scenic art being taught at a University versus in a paint studio. I am of a generation who received scenic art instruction at University and benefited from a liberal arts approach. Exploring scenic art techniques was placed within the wonderful context of supplemental knowledge discovered in humanities and art history classes. But I did not learn scenic art in a studio, where I lived and breathed it six days a week for six decades.

The entire American stage aesthetic also shifted during this same period, 1900-1930. This era included an increased appearance of draperies for settings instead of strict painted illusion. The decorative nature of popular art began to permeate the stage and the rise of scenic designer increased, delegating the scenic artist to become a translator for their vision. The dominance of the Düsseldorf and Hudson River Valley schools’ romanticism was somewhat replaced with stencils and paint-by-number on a variety of fabrics, including silks and plush velvet. However, for standard high school, community, ethnic hall or other productions, instructional manuals helped and encouraged amateur artists paint the necessary stage scenes. We can be thrilled that art permeated all aspects of our culture, but it also redefined the field scenic art.

Only so much scenic art instruction can be passed along in a book or online, even with a lovely YouTube video. This is a profession that requires hands-on instruction and mentorship, as well as intensive study and years of practice. In the end, not all scenic artists are equal. Now, this is my belief, and I have certainly been read the riot act about this stance, yet I cannot think of any profession where all individuals are equal, just look at the medical profession. If all scenic artists were the same, we would all charge the same rate and everything would look the same; there would be no need for unions or people receiving any higher rate than another..

While working with Vern Sutton at Opera in the Ozarks one summer, I heard him say something pretty profound to a group of young opera singers; his message could really apply to all artists. He was explaining how very few world class singers were out there. Unless he had specifically told an individual that they were world class, they weren’t; “you will recognize a world class voice instantly.” That same summer, I heard my first world-class voice and it was unmistakable, no question; there was only the one in the dozens of performers that year. The same can be said for scenic art. There are some who rise to top of their profession, whether as a rocket or bubble of air seeking the surface. Many scenic artists spend an increadible amount of money and time perfecting their techniques and knowledge of the industry.

Understandably, these journeymen scenic artists are hesitant to give their “secrets” all away, unless they are in a secure position. This is not a new stance, as I have repeatedly encountered this topic in scenic artists’ memoirs and newspaper articles throughout the nineteenth and twentieth century. Think of the entire point of guilds protecting trade secrets. I think of the newspapers that heralded a handful of scenic artists when there were hundreds painting during the 1890s. These were exceptionally skilled individuals. Only a few rose to the top of their profession, and they did not give free or reduced-rate workshops for aspiring artists. They may have painted alongside apprentices in fine art studios, or at the paint frame, but there was a hierarchy in the industry based on skill and experience.

When you have a formula, or trade secret that works really well for you – one that took years to understand or develop – would you share it with a direct competitor? Would you share a formula, or trade secret, with a fellow scenic artist in another region or country that did not directly compete with you? Would you share your research with the world before publishing? Knowing the time and expense that you invested in training and experience, would you share a recipe or technique with someone who is just starting out? I was once told, if you give something away, it can devalue what you are actually offering. In context, please consider, that I have likely done more pro bono work over the course of my career than actual paid work. I frequently give away much of my research and what I know, but I am not putting a restoration or painting recipe on a card, as it devalues what I have to offer as a professional and what I have worked so hard to accomplish.

Here is another consideration: If you are a teacher with health insurance, benefits and a retirement plan, it is part of your job to share your recipes and train your students. If you are a freelance artist and have struggled to do it all on your own, is it not your job to share and train. If you have a secure and full-time position in a paint studio, this is very different than an itinerant artist who never knows where their next project will take them. Skilled students directly benefit, and reflect positively on a university instructor or full-time charge artist in a shop; they are a direct credit to their mentor’s skill and leadership. This is not the case for the experienced freelance artist or any independent contractor. I can think of no other profession that expects professionals to share all of their knowledge with someone who is just starting out, unless they are grooming them to be a replacement at the end of a career. Enough of the diatribe, I welcome feedback and criticism of my thoughts.

To be continued…

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar: …when she was bad, she was horrid…

…when she was bad, she was horrid…

I needed a break from all of the trials and tribulations that life throws at you on a holiday. This 4^th of July I was juggling food preparation, an overgrown garden, and a malfunctioning hot water heater, while putting out all of the other fires that occurred during our trip to Santa Fe. For a short while that afternoon I escaped, hiding in my office and pulling up some pictures of painted details. I needed something to make me laugh.

Six toes on a painted figure at the Salina Scottish Rite

On multiple occasions, I have stressed the importance of good artistic training, whether it is at a formal atelier or in a studio arts class. Good scenic artists need instruction in all areas – layout, drawing, painting, color mixing, netting, etc. However, the most important skill for a scenic artist is drawing all subjects well. A scenic artist cannot create a successful painting unless the drawing is correct. No matter how well you mix colors or master certain brush strokes, if your composition is poorly drawn, the final composition will never look good.

Painted detail by Sosman & Landis artist for the Winona Scottish Rite

Drawing and rendering must go hand and hand with learning how to become a successful scenic artist. It is always apparent when a scenic artist did not receive adequate training in figure drawing or architectural studies. You need to really know how something is put together, whether it is a body or a building, to successfully draw it.

Angel in the tomb when the two Marys enter. Painted detail by Sosman & Landis for the Winona Scottish Rite

Our daughter returned home from college this week for the holiday and shared a picture of a lion sculpture that she recently encountered I Kansas City. The Greek sculptor had never seen a lion before, so he gave his version the hips of a cow, the vertebrae of a goat, the ribs of a horse, and human eyes, while posing the animal as a playful dog.

Greek Lion in the Ward Sculpture Hall, 325 BCE, Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art Kansas City, Missouri

My daughter giggled uncontrollably as she shared the image. The artist obviously did not understand how a lion was “put together.” The same can be said for scenic artist who does not understand human anatomy.

Painted detail at the Moline Scottish Rite. Doorway had to be resized, so the painted figure’s legs were shortened.

Painted detail at Grand Forks Scottish Rite

Elongated horse legs on a scene from the scenery for the Winona Scottish Rite

A painted detail from the ascension scene at the Salina Scottish Rite

Figure drawing remains a challenge for many scenic artists. I have encountered many examples where the scenic artist had no concept of proportion, or even how many toes to paint. Here are a few examples that stress the importance of figure studies and always brighten my day; they make me feel a little better about my own skills.

Detail of a figure that likely started out as a man, before he noticed that the design necessitated a female in that position. Salina Scottish Rite

Whenever I look at these pictures, I think of the nursery rhyme that starts: “There once was a girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead…”For the scenic artist I continue the rest of the rhyme: “When she was good, she was very, very, good. And when she was bad, she was horrid.” Some historical scenic art for the stage was truly horrid. Just because it’s old, doesn’t mean its always good.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 380 – Phillip William Goatcher, Art Instructor of Homer Emens

Part 380: Phillip William Goatcher, Art Instructor of Homer Emens

The artistic mentor of Homer Emens was Phil Goatcher (1851-1931). Goatcher was characterized as “Well travelled, well read, a born raconteur and practical joker.” He was fascinating; In Melbourne, Australia, a horse race was named after him. Some reports from 1890 note that Goatcher was the highest paid scene painter in the world. So, who was Goatcher?

Philip William Goatcher was born November 23, 1851, in London. He first worked as a young law clerk at Lincoln’s Inn Chambers in London. During this time, he visited Sadler’s Wells Theatre and the experience left quite an impression, sketching scenes and other doodles from the stage on office pads. Later in life, Goatcher said, “Stage painting was to my mind the greatest achievement of man, so the desire to study the art took root deeply.”

By the age of 14, Goatcher accepted an apprenticeship with a Liverpool shipping firm, and began to travel on the high seas. He sailed to Melbourne, Australia in 1866 as an apprentice seaman on the True Briton and later on the Dover Castle. The second voyage he jumped ship near Melbourne and walked to his aunt and uncle’s home in Ballarat. Some accounts suggest he jumped ship to head for the gold fields, but failed to strike it rich. Regardless, in Ballarat Goatcher was employed backstage by John Hennings, Melbourne’s lead scenic artist at the Theatre Royal. Hemmings predicted that the young man had a great potential to be a successful scenic artist. However, the wages for a young man entering the scenic art filed were poor and the opportunities scarce.

It was gold fever lured Goatcher away from Melbourne and to New Zealand, and then to Californa. An additional incentive to leave for the West Coast was an invitation from Henry E. Abby of the Park Theatre. Goatcher left Sydney for San Francisco, traveling through the South Sea Islands. In San Francisco Goatcher found a new mentor, the scene painter William Porter. Goatcher also met J. C. Williamson, an American actor who would later become a prominent theatre director in Australia. His stay was brief and Goatcher was once again on route, this time to New York by way of Mexico and Panama. At the time, Goatcher was only 19 years old, but after arriving in New York he soon began working for the scenic artist Matt Morgan. Morgan worked at Niblo’s Garden.

Goatcher stayed in New York until the age of 22, when he finally returned to England. By 1873 he was painting settings as an assistant to the scenic artists at the Drury Lane and Covent Garden theatre. At the age of 24, he married Alice Little and established a decorative-arts business in the West End. The business did not last when Goatcher decided to return to America as projects surrounding the Centennial Exposition offered substantial profits. He remained in the United states for the next fifteen years, spending an entire decade at Wallack’s theatre where he remained the chief scenic artist from 1875-1885.

Goatcher was naturalized as a US citizen in 1882 and listed his residence as Lexington Avenue in New York. In 1888, at the age of 27, he entered into a partnership with John H. Young as “Goatcher & Young” at 44 West 30^th Street. Keep in mind that Young had worked with Moses up to 1882 and permanently moved to New York in 1884.

Advertisement listing the scenic artists as “Goatcher and Young,” from the Chicago Tribune, 29 Sept 1889, page 6

In 1889 Goatcher and Young created the scenery for “King Cole II” at Hermann’s Philadelphia Theatre. The show was reported to be “one of the most gorgeous affairs of its kind ever gotten up in this country” (Morning Call, Allentown, Penn., 21 April, 1889, page 5).

Advertisement listing Phil W. Goatcher as the scenic artist for “King Cole II,” from The Times (New York) 14 April 1889, page 9

In the US Goatcher he painted scenery for the companies of Dion Boucicault, Edwin Booth, David Belasco, Edwin Booth, and Lillie Langtry. His specialty was not only drop curtains, but also pastoral landscapes, complete with wonderful translucent effects. His techniques were characteristic of the English tradition working up a backdrop with glazes. Goatcher especially excelled at painting scenery for Shakespearean production.

Goatcher and his first wife Alice had four children, but the marriage did not survive and the divorce was messy. In addition to domestic strife, Goatcher also struggled with chronic bronchitis. In 1890, Goatcher returned to London with his two eldest sons accompanied and accepted a position at the Adelphi Theatre. In London he worked for Hawes Craven, the leading stage designer for Henry Irving and Richard D’Oyly Carte. His projects also included settings for Gilbert and Sullivan productions. However, he was not destined to remain in England for long and returned to Melbourne that same year to work at Melbourne’s Princess Theatre.

At this time, Goatcher was 38 years old and a well-respected; he accepted a three-year contract with J. C. Williamson to work at his scenic artist in Melbourne (Arkansas Democrat, 22 July 1890, page 8). Goatcher’s first project was ‘The Gondoliers’ that October. He soon earned the nickname “Satin n’ Velvet Goatcher” for his elaborate painted textile drops.

Phil W. Goatcher working on the paint frame, nd.

Continued health issues prompted Goatcher to relocate to Perth, in hopes the dry climate would prove to be therapeutic for his acute bronchitis. There, he recreated the original scenery from his London and New York productions of ‘The Silver King’ (1882-83) for the Theatre Royal production in Perth during 1897. By 1899 he found love again and married a woman from Sydney, Emma Stone. More than 20 years his junior, the couple had twin sons, with only one surviving infancy. In West Perth Goatcher set up a successful painting and decorating business, later partnering with his son James. Decorative projects included the smoke room at Melbourne’s Menzies Hotel, Sydney’s Palace Theatre, the Singer Sewing Machine showroom in Sydney’s Queen Victoria Building, and the painted auditoria of Her Majesty’s Theatre, Melbourne.

An interesting image depicting scenic artists on the paint bridge at the Criterion Theatre in Sydney.

In 1913, his second wife Emma passed away on Christmas Eve. As a 65-year-old widower, Goatcher purchased land in Dalwallinu during 1916, where he became not only a member of the Roads Board, but also a Justice of the Peace. Goatcher died in West Perth on the 8th October 1931 at the age of 80 and was buried in the Anglican section of the Karrakata Cemetery next to his second wife. Goatcher’s reminisces were published in a few publication that included the Australian Star (27 December 1890), Table Talk (31 October 1890, 8 January 1892) and the New Zealand Herald (11 March 1927).

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 203 – The Perpetual Student

Thomas G. Moses wrote about his sketching trip to West Virginia in 1885. He published a series of articles for the Palette & Chisel newsletter where Moses described his journey and traveling companions, especially the “eccentric” Henry C. Tryon. In one section, he described how Tryon became the student of Thomas Moran (1837-1926).

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

Moran was born on February 12, 1837 in Bolton, Lancashire. His parents were handloom weavers, but the industrialization of the weaving process threatened their livelihood. This necessitated the family to seek out new opportunities in America during 1844. The Morans settled near Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, where Peter, Edward and Thomas, would become interested in art. By the age of sixteen, Thomas began working as an apprentice for the Philadelphia engraving firm of Scattergood and Telfer. At this time, he also began to concentrate on refining his own artistic techniques and studied with James Hamilton (1819-1878).

Hamilton was also an immigrant who had moved to Philadelphia from Ireland with his family in 1834. He enrolled at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, studying painting, engraving, and etching. It was Hamilton who introduced Moran to the paintings of J.M.W would remain a major influence on him throughout his career. By 1875, Hamilton sold enough paintings to finance a trip around the world.

James Hamilton. I located mages of maritime artworks, including those of James Hamilton, at Vallejo Gallery. Here is the link: https://www.vallejogallery.com

*Detail of painting from image above found online at Vallejo Gallery. Here is the link: https://www.vallejogallery.com*

Moran also traveled extensively to hone his own artistic skills and ventured to Lake Superior. There he sketched images of the Great Lakes, brought them back to Philadelphia and created lithographs. By the mid-1860s, Moran was exhibiting some very sophisticated paintings.

He married the landscape artist and etcher Mary Nimmo. The couple moved to New York where Moran was hired as an illustrator for Scribner’s Monthly. He was soon promoted to their chief illustrator, Moran was well on his way to achieving the status of a nationally-recognized landscape artist and illustrator.

*Thomas Moran. “Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone” from the Smithsonian collection.*

In 1871, he went on a geological survey of the west, studying now what is now as Yellowstone Park. For 40 days, the group traveled to thirty different sites in the region. The artist was invited by Dr. Ferdinand Hayden, director of the United States Geological Survey and funded by American financier Jay Cooke and Scribner’s Monthly. He was hired along with the photographer William Henry Jackson to document the natural landscape. Moran and Jackson would travel west on another expedition lead by Maj. John Wesley Powel a few years later. Their collective work of canyons, creels, geysers, and hot springs would prove instrumental in the area’s preservation. Congress would decide to elevate and preserve the Yellowstone expanse as a national park in 1872.

1908 Thomas Moran print from the Twin City Scenic Company collection used by scenic artists as sources for theatre scenery. University of MN Performing Arts Archives. PA43 Supplemental Box 3) MSSC3010.

Moran also entered into a successful business relationship with the Santa Fe Railroad. The Railroad commissioned him to produce paintings of the west as a marketing device. They were turned into color lithographs to introduce the public to the beautiful western region. Throughout his life, Moran would continue to have a lifelong passion for the Yellowstone National Park. His signature monogram, a linked T & M, even created a “Y” to signify Yellowstone.

*Signature of Thomas Moran with T and M forming a Y.*

Throughout the remainder of his life, Moran continued to travel. Even after the death of his wife in 1900, he would return to Yellowstone with his daughter Ruth almost every year for the next two decades. He would sometimes barter his paintings for travel and lodging. Even in his seventies, he braved the bumpy trails to capture the beauty of the Rockies and was quoted as saying, “I have painted them all my life and shall continue to paint them as long as I can hold a brush.”

*Thomas Moran by Howard Russell Butler, 1922*

*Thomas Moran palette and brushes in the East Hampton Library collection.*

Moran eventually settled in Santa Barbara, California until his passing in 1926. He would travel to the Acoma and Laguna pueblos to paint the landscape and native peoples. This was the same locations where Thomas G. Moses also travelled to sketch during that time.

1906 Thomas Moran print “Sunset in Old Mexico” in the Twin City Scenic Company Collection, University of Minnesota Performing Arts Archives. (PA43 supplemental box 3) MSSC3000. Handwritten note on back says, “Reverse and use right half of picture only. No figures. For West.”

James Hamilton was Thomas Moran’s art instructor in the 1860s. Moran was Henry C. Tryon’s art instructor by the 1870s. In 1885, Tryon was referring to Thomas G. Moses and John H. Young as his own students during their sketching trip to West Virginia.

Scenic artists, such as Tryon and Moses, would study the works of their predecessors. Scenic studios would replicate popular compositions such as those displayed in fine art galleries. Everything was painted to delight the audience, whether they were in the salon or the theatre. One example of a scenic artist who took Moran’s “Sunset in Old Mexico” and replicated the composition on a front curtain for a theatre while working at the Twin City Scenic Company in Minneapolis, Minnesota was John Z. Wood (1846-1919). Wood was a contemporary of Tryon and only a year older (previous installments about Wood can be found in #130 and 147-151).

*John Z. Wood front curtain in the Twin City Scenic Company Collection based on Thomas Moran print “Sunset in Old Mexico.” University of Minnesota Performing Arts Archives. MSSC1024.*

It all comes full circle as the scenic artist was a perpetual art student, studying and replicating the works of those they considered artistic masters.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 185 – Thomas G. Moses and A. J. Rupert

In 1883 Thomas G. Moses wrote that he attended the Chicago Art Institute and “painted from life at Rupert’s Studio every Sunday.”

Painted detail from “The Clam Diggers” by A. J. Rupert. Thomas G. Moses studied at Rupert’s studio on Sunday afternoons during 1883.

Adam John Rupert was born in Ft. Plain, New York, during 1854. At the age of eighteen he moved to Chicago, Illinois. Two years later, he was working for P. M. Almini as a fresco painter and met Moses for the first time. Rupert studied at fine art studios and traveled abroad from 1876 to 1880. He was a student at the Royal Academy in Munich and also the Academy of Design in Chicago.

Moses initially reconnected with his old friend on his return in 1880. By 1882 Rupert was hired to teach for the Academy of Fine Arts in Chicago every afternoon during winter term. He established a fine art studio that Moses visited every Sunday. Moses greatly revered Rupert and even named his second son after him.

He bought one of Rupert’s paintings in 1885 titled “My Studio.” It measured 34” x 54.” That same year, Rupert exhibited artworks at the inaugural reception and exhibition for the Western Art Association. They held their show at the Chicago Art Institute on the corner of Michigan Ave and Van Buren Street where a lot of collectors participated in the event. For this show, Rupert had exhibited three pieces “The Violinist,” “The Tramp” and “Discouraged Vestal” (Chicago’s “Inter Ocean” on Jan. 23 1885, page 5). Rupert also participated in the 1888 Chicago Art League Exhibition at Art Institute of Chicago. By 1889 he opened a studio at No. 59 Honore Block in Chicago and soon exhibited at the Chicago Society of Artists. In 1891 his artwork was featured next to those of Walter Burridge, Herbert E, Butler, L.S.G. Parker, Frederick Freer, and Joseph Jefferson (the actor). Other exhibitions for Rupert at the Art Institute Chicago were held in 1898, 1900, 1906, 1915, 1917 and 1919.

Sketch for “A Flag of Truce” production by William Haworth. Thomas G. Moses and A. J. Rupert worked on the settings for this production.

In 1892, Rupert, Moses, Harry Vincent and Frank Peyraud worked together to create the settings for William Haworth’s (1860-1920) production called the “A Flag of Truce.” William was Joe Haworth’s younger brother. From the very beginning Joe shared his success as an actor with his family, sending a generous portion of his pay back to them in Cleveland. This money enabled William Haworth to stay in school and attend Annapolis as a naval cadet. However the theatre also called to William. In 1882, it was John McCullough (Virginius lead mentioned in installment 181) that gave him his first professional opportunity.

By 1886, William was acting at the Union Square theatre in support of Helene Modjeska. He eventually left New York and after two years of touring, returned with a completed play, “Ferncliff.” The play was set in Providence, Rhode Island, during the Civil War with ten characters. It opened at the Union Square Theatre in 1889, the same time as Bronson Howard’s “Shenandoah.” It was unlike “Shenandoah,” however, as it lacked the spectacular reenactments of battles and was much more of a domestic drama with comic elements. Here is a great link for further information about the “Ferncliff” production: http://www.josephhaworth.com/union_square_theatre.htm

Sketch by William Haworth for his production “Ferncliff.”

Haworth reworked “Ferncliff” to become a companion piece to “The Ensign,” a plot set in Havana and involved the ploy of two British officers provoking Capt. Charles Wilkes into a quarrel to delay his interception of the “Trent.” Based partially on factual events from1861, Capt. Wilkes seized two Confederate emissaries to the British government on the vessel “Trent” while on the sea. The incident nearly caused Britain to declare was on the North. In the play, Wilkes eventually escapes the firing squad by the personal intervention of President Lincoln. The production was reported to be an exceptional spectacle.

The “Flag of Truth” opened in New York at the Fourteenth Street Theatre during 1893, the show toured to Plainfield, New Jersey, and then played in Trenton. It now included a thrilling rescue in a quarry that involved a real derrick onstage. Throughout the next decade, Haworth’s Civil War plays were almost constantly performed, often in repertory. For more information about William Haworth and his brother Joseph, here is a good link: http://www.josephhaworth.com/his_brother_William.htm
By 1904 Rupert was part of another spectacle. He worked on an amusement for the St. Louis World’s Fair by Henry Roltair called “Creation.” Rupert and George Schreiber were the assistants to Frank Peyraud for this project. Advertised in the Chicago Sunday Tribune (May 29, page 20) it commented, “the scheme is a deep secret. A great dome covers transformation scenes representing the creation of the world with dioramas showing what man has created in the world.” Taking two hours, a boat trip travelled around the big blue dome that illustrated the works of God during the six days of creation. Other side trips in boats included the scenic vistas of the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, and Alaska that allowed visitors to travel back into prehistoric time to primitive man. Another boat ride entered a labyrinth that depicted ancient countries and cities, including Egypt, Assyria, Greece, Rome, China, Japan, Spain, France, and England. The cost for this adventure was $0.50 for adults and $0.25 for children. I could not help but think of Spaceship Earth in Walt Disney World’s Epcot. But the twentieth century ride paled in comparison to what was offered to 1904 visitors at Roltair’s “Creation.”

Roltair’s “Creation,” a boat ride amusement for the 1904 St. Louis World Fair. A. J. Rupert, the scenic artist, helped create this exhibit.

Entryway for the boat-ride amusement “Creation” at the St. Louis World Fair in 1904.

On the fraternal front, Rupert was a member of the Independent Order of Odd Fellows and the Maccabees.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 177 – Thomas G. Moses at Sosman & Landis, 1880

When Thomas G. Moses was unsuccessful at securing work at the P. M. Almini Company he headed to a nearby scenic studio. Joseph Sands Sosman was familiar with Moses’ work and offered $18.00 per week to work at Sosman & Landis. This was six dollars a week less than he could make at Almini’s, but the work was steady. Having no alternative, Moses started painting for Sosman & Landis and was sent to Kenosha, Wisconsin.

View of lighthouse in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

Sosman joined him immediately on the job and they completed a plain interior, kitchen and some set pieces that April, returning to the studio afterward.

In Chicago, Moses boarded with his friend, Will Tuller at O. W. Young’s on 438 West Van Buren Street.

Image by photographer Richard Yoshiro (1894-1981) of O. W. Young’s cottage in Gladwin, Minnesota.

He did not return to Sterling until the end of May. It was then that he decided to resettle his family in the big city. They moved to 744 West Van Buren Street, a four-bedroom rental for $11.00. The current equivalent for this housing would be approximately $256.00 USD for monthly rental. Moses noted, “My career as a scenic artist starts from here. I was full of ambition and hustle. If I had been endowed with a like amount of ability I would have set the world on fire.”
It was all hard work, but his limited knowledge of scene painting techniques proved to be a wonderful help. He studied the painting techniques at various theaters, attempting to rapidly improve both his skills and his speed.

They saved money from his salary and paid all outstanding bills from their life in Sterling. Moses wrote, “We set our table on $3.00 per week and lived well. We were soon out of debt and started to lay a few dollars for a rainy day.”

Sosman and Moses traveled a great deal in the beginning. Landis was always away, traveling to secure orders. It would take six months before Moses even meet Landis as he was constantly traveling across the country to drum up work. As the business increased, Sosman & Landis added a paint boy to their studio. Although fellow scenic artists told Moses to leave the studio, he stayed employed full-time. Understanding that he could make between $35.00 to $45.00 per week in the theaters, there was stability at the Sosman & Landis studio and a dependable income for his little family. However, their comments made Moses realize that he was worth far more than $18.00 per week, especially as he had proven himself a “hustler” on each job.

His painting was also rapidly improving. Moses wrote, “My work might not have been as artistic as some I saw in the theaters, but it pleased the people who paid for it.”

Coal miners from the first shaft mine in Braidwood.

On one painting trip to Braidwood, Illinois, Moses brought Ella and the baby along. It was a coal mining town. On April 22, 1879, Braidwood experienced tragedy as a terrible fire raged through the town. More than a dozen buildings were destroyed by the inferno, including the railroad depot, a hotel, two saloons, a blacksmith shop, the grain elevator and several homes. Then town was soon rebuilt and drew many newcomers to the area, including Peter Rossi who began manufacturing macaroni there.

In Braidwood, Moses, Ella and baby Pitt visited local parks every Sunday, seeking all the enjoyment they could on their limited means. The couple even went down in a coalmine to examine the process that brought coal to the surface. Slag hills were scattered across farmland after the creation of numerous “coal wells.”

Their simple life put everything into perspective during these early years and proved a driving force for Moses’ strive for success. In 1880 he wrote, “ I was determined to make something of myself. I found an old friend, A. J. Rupert, with whom I had worked at Almini’s. He was now an instructor at the Art Institute, in the life class. He studied abroad and was very clever.” Moses joined the art class, two nights a week for a very small tuition, noted that it gave him enough courage to attempt some figure painting on curtains. Moses commented that many of the artists “were very clever and gave me a lot of valuable pointers, so I improved rapidly.”

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 166 – Thomas G. Moses and “The Naiad Queen”

Thomas G. Moses wrote that he “worked for a while on the “Naiad Queen” scenery under the celebrated Robert Hopkins, a friend of Malmsha’s” in 1875. This was only a year after beginning his career in scenic art. Within that first year Moses had both worked as Malmsha’s assistant, but also under the direction of Hopkins. Hopkins was later noted as the scenic artist who produced the full set of scenery at the Detroit Opera House, according to Harry Miner’s American Dramatic Directory for the 1882-1883.

“The Naiad Queen” was advertised as the “legendary ballet spectacle performed in four acts.” at Wood’s Theatre in Cincinnati, Ohio.

Image of Wood’s Theatre on a stereoscope card at the J Paul Getty Museum, front.

Image of Wood’s Theatre on a stereoscope card at the J Paul Getty Museum, back.

A series of advertisement appeared in the Cincinnati Enquirer and Cincinnati Daily Star throughout that fall, promoting this production at a venue, then managed by Barney Macauley.

Advertisement for “the grand spectacle of the Naiad Queen” in the Cincinnati Daily Star, September 25, 1875.

Macauley was a former artist who once traveled throughout the country with Lou Malmsha. Macauley became manager at Wood’s Theatre when Malmsha left life on the road and returned to Chicago in 1871. Bad timing on Malmsha’s part as much of the city soon burned to the ground. Immediately after the great Chicago fire, Malmsha returned to Cincinnati and sought employment at Wood’s Theatre until 1874. Barney Macauley’s company was now performing at Wood’s Theatre.

In 1875 Wood’s Theatre was standing on same patch of ground once vacated by the old People’s Theatre. After being destroyed by fire in 1865, a new home for Wood’s was built at the corner of Sixth and Vine. The scenery production of the “Naiad Queen” was advertised as having “dazzling scenery, superb costumes, illusions, mechanical changes, calcium light, appointments and effects.” The Cincinnati Daily Star published that the show was performed in “the same style as the ‘Black Crook’” with over 100 artists engaged in the spectacle. Furthermore, it included no less than twenty tableaux! As elsewhere, Cincinnati audiences loved the spectacle and the show ended up running an extra week at Wood’s Theatre.

An article on September 27, advertised that “New scenery, new properties, and new costumes have been especially prepared for the two weeks of ‘The Naiad Queen.’” Two days later, a review stated “The scenery by Malmsha is beautiful; the one scene ‘Statuestic Hall,’ would be enough to establish a lasting reputation for any artist in the country.” Malmsha had included both Robert Hawkins and Thomas Moses in the painting of the this production and was known well-enough to be listed as simple “Malmsha.” A valued assistant, Malmsha thought enough of Moses to include him in the production of this amazing scenery. At the age of nineteen, Moses was already participating in an extremely popular high-quality production. Like Malmsha’ own rapid rise to fame, Moses was already on his way to the top.

Mention of “Malmsha” in a review of the “Naiad Queen” in the Cincinnati Daily Star, September 29, 1875. Malmsha had hired Robert Hopkins and Thomas G. Moses to assist with the scenery.

The production of “The Naiad Queen” included a variety of spectacular scenes. Some depicted fancy interiors in a castle that were complete with gothic halls and banquet rooms. Their windows revealed stunning moonlight scenes and other scenic effects. Exterior scenes included rocky shores with mountainous views and mystic seascapes. Other settings portrayed hidden grottos and secret chambers with strange hieroglyphic symbols and sea monsters. The plot had many possibilities to highlight the abilities of scenic artists as they created spectacle for the stage.

“The Naiad Queen” provided a wonderful opportunity to hone the skills of a young artist. Moses was painting some of the same subjects that he would continue to paint for almost six more decades, many of them for Masonic theaters.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 165 – Thomas G. Moses, an assistant to Lou Malmsha

Thomas Moses entered the world of scenic art as an assistant to C. Louis Malmsha. This was in addition to his work as Malmsha’s assistant in the P. M. Almini & Co. studios. Malmsha was the head designer at Almini’s, but he frequently left to accept theatre projects. It was Malmsha’s painting for McVicker’s Theatre that provided Moses with his first scene painting opportunity. These were formative years for Moses. Again, he was in the right place at the right time. His first scenic art instruction was provided by a nationally recognized master in the theatre world, one that was the proverbial “shooting star.” I previously discussed Malmsha’s significance and artistic endeavors in installments 123 and 124, but I will briefly recap as Malmsha was Moses’ first scenic art mentor.

Malmsha was born in Sweden during 1847 and traveled to America at the age of sixteen in 1863. He initially found employment at Jevne & Almini’s fresco studio, but soon began working as a scenic artist at Crosby’s Opera House.

Crosby’s Opera House, Chicago. This is where Lou Malmsha started as a scenic artist.

Malmsha rapidly rose to the top of the scenic art profession in the United States. Moses’ rise to stardom parallels that of his mentor Malmsha. Both quickly transitioned from young fresco assistants to professional scenic artists.

For the last decade of Malmsha’s life, he battled consumption and required increased assistance in everything. This was at the same time that Moses was assigned to Malmsha as his assistant. The seventeen-year-old Moses helped him with a variety of projects. Moses also worked for others at P. M. Almini & Co. during Malmsha’s sporadic absences. Moses, commenting on the times when Malmsha was “taken away” from the studio, wrote, “I had to do a lot of hard work for every Swede and Norwegian on the job. They made me hustle.” This is the first reference to the speed at which Moses was expected to work. Working at a rapid pace was obviously drilled into Moses from the beginning of his career and became his greatest artistic attribute.

After after Malmsha’s passing, Henry C. Tryon wrote a tender tribute that rendered homage to his friend and colleague. Tryon noted his “transcendant genius” as the “best in his profession.” He also commented the speed at which Malmsha worked, writing that his compositions were “produced with astonishing rapidity.” Moses would also become known for the speed at which he worked. In 1881 Moses wrote in his diary, “The others were able to draw more, because they were better in the artistic end, but I had it over them when it came to speed.” By this time, Moses had worked as a scenic artist for seven years and had a sense of both the scenic art profession and the talents of his fellow artists at Sosman & Landis Studio.

McVicker’s Theatre. This is where Lou Malmsha ended his career as a scenic artist. He worked for this venue from 1874-1882. Moses started his scenic art career as Malmsha’s assistant at McVicker’s Theatre.

A backdrop at McVicker’s Theatre possibly painted by Lou Malmsha.

We are unsure of how long Moses worked as Malmsha’s assistant. By 1880, Moses was in the employ of Sosman & Landis, a mere three years after the studio opened. By this time, Sosman had heard of Moses’ work and immediately hired him for $18.00 a week. Regardless, at the age of seventeen Moses had started his scenic art career under the tutelage of Malmsha. As a young man who was so eager to learn an artistic trade, he would have embraced all forms of instruction, especially that given by a highly respected instructor. His instructor had quickly ascended to the height of the scenic art profession in less than a decade. This would have been great incentive for an artist entering the field. Interestingly, Malmsha was only nine years Moses’ senior and would have been the perfect role model for this “green boy from the country.”

Malmsha not only set the pace for creating scenic art works, but also provided inspiration for his younger assistant. Talented, dashing, and successful, Malmsha provided an attractive incentive to enter the field of scenic art. In 1874, Malmsha had only been working as a scenic artist for nine years, yet was a sought after commodity throughout the theatre world.

In later years, Moses recalled the talents of Malmsha, writing, “He was a very clever man. In all the years that have passed since then, I have never found a man that could do so little and get so much out of his work, very simple in drawing and color, but very effective.”

Memorial to C. Louis Malmsha (1845-1882), erected by his wife and friends.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Part 163 – Thomas G. Moses and the Art Bug

Thomas G. Moses wrote, “The “Art Bug” began to develop in me quite early. It was at this time that I should have had an opportunity to see if I was qualified to become a real artist, or a good cobbler.” By the age of twelve he was awarded a prize at he county fair for his pencil drawing of the 2^nd Ward school house. Of this time Moses commented, “I was then considered Sterling’s Artist, and a brilliant future was seen for me in the Art World by many.”

That year he had the opportunity to take a few art lessons. Mrs. Worthington, an elderly lady in Sterling, instructed Moses in landscape painting. This gave him a slight foundation that pointed him in the right direction. Moses recalled, “Being twelve years of age and quite young to determine what I wanted to do in life, my County Fair prize picture had brought to me the serious question, which was easily answered – Painting.” He remained something of a “dreamer” as he examined small circulars advertising touring productions such as “The Black Crook.” Moses wrote, “The gaudy illustrations of the different scenes were the most artistic things I had ever seen. How I longed to see wonderful painting. Would I ever be able to paint pictures framed in heavy gold frames, my name on the corner, and hanging in an Art gallery? If I couldn’t do that, could I paint ornamental signs on glass? Or fancy scroll work and landscapes on the side of an omnibus? Or flowers on rocking chairs? It was paint, paint and nothing else.” He wasn’t discerning at all about the type of genre, completing a number of small pictures and dreaming of a life as an artist. Moses remembered that all he hungered for was paint.

As in many cases, the dreams of a young child did not mesh with the expectations of his parents. Lucius Moses saw a great future for his son in the tannery. He used the example of the great General U.S. Grant who had started life as a tanner and ended up as President of the United States. Regardless, no argument could have compelled Moses to change his mind after he became determined to paint. For Moses, his work at the tannery was simply “irksome.” As he only owned one suit of clothes, the smell of the tannery lingered wherever he went, especially at school. It must have been difficult to impress his school mates when “that awful odor from the tannery” would saturate his clothes.

A view of employees at a Tannery in 1870. This was from the same time when Thomas G. Moses was working in his father’s tannery at Sterling, Illinois.

It was at the age of thirteen that Moses first ran away from home, escaping to a nearby town. Traveling by rail with very little money in his pocket, he sought employment outside of the tannery. In Ambrose he visited a car shop for a job in their paint shop. There he was told to return and ask again the following day. After sleeping on a park bench that night and waking to heavy frost, he returned to the paint shop without breakfast. A constable met him at the door and dutifully escorted the young man home as his father had sent a telegram while he slept. Moses remembered his return writing, “There was no fatted calf cooked for this prodigal son, but there was a short interview in the wood shed.”

Four years later, he travelled to Chicago. This time with his father’s permission as he wanted to see the destruction left by the 1871 fire.

A photograph depicting blocks of devastation in Chicago after the fire in 1871.

The ruins after the 1871 fire in Chicago, Illinois.

A map depicting the “Burnt District” in Chicago after the 1871 great fire.

He went with a family friend named William Bigelow, the conductor on the Sterling freight train. Moses recalled that Chicago immediately appealed to him, writing in 1872 that “There must be a chance in such a big place for me and I made up my mind to go. All summer I pleaded with Father to allow me to go. He refused. If I wanted to paint, I could get a job at the wagon works at home.”

For the next year, Moses studied hard at school, published articles in the local paper and followed all of the rules. He wrote, “I was given a little more freedom this Winter and I went out a good deal to parties and sleigh rides. Father had relented and gave me some money so I could pay my way. It was harder for me to make up my mind to go to Chicago, but I felt I must get started.”

That spring during April of 1873, his “wild career as an Artist” began. Since his father declined to assist him with his with any artistic aspirations, Moses waited for the right moment and left for Chicago with ten cents in his pocket, a new pair of boots, warm clothes and “a lot of pluck.” He hitched a ride early in the morning with his conductor friend Bigelow, arriving in Chicago late that day. He sought out a family friend who was a Master Painter for the C. & N. W. Rail Road in Clinton, Iowa.

A map depicting the railroad lines in Illinois.

Mr. Michaels wrote a letter to Lucius Moses asking him to let his son give the art world a try and promising to look after him. The next morning, Mr. Michael helped Moses secure a position at the P. M. Almini Company for four dollars a week. The day after, he received his trunk from home, and with it a diary. Within four days of arriving in Chicago, Moses was making a living painting for a decorating studio.

To be continued…