Category: Uncategorized

I am down for the count.  There will be more tomorrow about my scenic art and scholarly pursuits!

Drops are not Props

On May 5, 2017, an online article was posted on the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center website looking in depth at their Fort Scott scenery acquisition and their “restoration” team. Here is the article in it’s entirety: http://www.masonicheritagecenter.org/…/05/behind-the-scenes/

This article appears as a counterpoint to some of the information that I have presented in regard to the Fort Scott scenery collection and its condition since February. Because of my involvement, there is just too much incorrect information posted about the collection for me to ignore it.
One would hope that the writer of the article would check the facts prior to publication. This would be quite easy as there are still multiple copies of the original Fort Scott books that I created during December 2015 for the staff to understand the scope and significance of the collection. They were also created in preparation to discuss the order of priority for restoration, the process, and the necessary alteration for a new venue. There is much about what is stipulated in the article that suggests the books I wrote and provided to the MMC CEO, MMHC general director and MMC Director of Communications remain unread.

I had to chuckle as I read the May 5 article, wondering if this was the same MMC staff member who once erroneously identified a Masonic apron as a “canvas bag” on the Minnesota Masonic Historical Society and Museum brochure. As always, it is crucial to double-check your facts before you publish, especially if you are writing about theatre heritage in a town of theatre practitioners and scholars.

I will start with statements that are simply incorrect, providing a basic fact-checking service. At least this will be more entertaining than fact-checking political statements.
Beginning with the statement from the article about the use of Masonic scenery. The author writes, “Drops were intended to be used as props, not artifacts.” This is incorrect.

Drops are scenery and not props. The answer is easily located online when you type in “What is a prop in a play?”
The answer: “A prop, formally known as (theatrical) property, is an object used on stage or on screen by actors during a performance or screen production. In practical terms, a prop is considered to be anything movable or portable on a stage or a set, distinct from the actors, scenery, costumes, and electrical equipment.”
Backdrops, cut drops and leg drops are the painted scenery for Scottish Rite degree work.

They establish the environment. Ironically, this is detailed in my doctoral dissertation that I also made available to the MMC staff while working at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center. For example, the INRI Peristyle scene for the eighteenth degree would have a setting created with painted scenes – a backdrop, cut drop, and leg drop. If the Pelican piercing its breast were painted on a profile piece and placed within that scene, it would be a set prop. If an actor walked into this scene, carrying something in his hand (like a box that would unfold into a cross) that would be a hand prop. Drops are not props.

The writer also identifies the wooden sandwich battens as “old growth cedar.” This is incorrect too as all battens installed by Sosman & Landis were pine – lightweight and cheap. Theater professionals would never have selected cedar, an expensive lumber with incredible longevity. Remember that theatre scenery was intended as ephemeral and not like cedar shingles or a cedar chest. Lumber companies specialized in “theatrical lumber” that was shipped in bundles by the linear foot. These pine boards were even shipped to Masonic lumber barons who were in charge of Scottish Rite Valleys, as was the case in Winona, Minnesota. Theatre suppliers were particular about their battens and very consistent in their selection of pine. The lumber was specially shaped so that it would not catch on neighboring drops.

The writer notes that the wooden sandwich battens could not be used because they were “crooked.” I think that the writer meant they were slightly warped – a common occurrence in collections over time that is easily remedied. The batten order is swapped to straighten out the warp – done. Plus the solution is free other than labor. No need for special materials, new innovation, or pipe pockets that will fail.

The article also mentions that many of the boards were “broken.” This was not the case when the battens were removed and placed into the Bloomington storage facility. For this statement, I have included pictures from onsite, in transport, and at the storage facility, depicting the remarkable condition of the aged wood. I will address the condition of the pine battens in detail and speaking from extensive experience. I have removed battens to restore drops and re-attached those same battens after a completed restoration numerous times. All told, I have handled approximately 900 individual top and bottom sandwich battens for more than two decades.

The battens from Fort Scott were in excellent condition, better than almost all others that I have encountered. They also contained Thomas Moses’ notes and drawings for the installation order, counterweight rigging system, and other entertaining cartoons. I have included a few for your examination as this was the only aspect about the wooden battens that was extraordinary. I have seen a few notes on scenes, but never this substantial amount with crucial information pertaining to the installation of a scenery collection.

Even if a split, or crack occurred, the boards were going to have to be shortened to fit the space which brings us to the next point: the apparent surprise at the mismatch in drop size relative the Ives Auditorium. This was always the case. The theater design was finalized and the construction of the space already underway before any scenery collection was identified and purchased. It is preposterous to think that we would locate any Scottish Rite Valley scenery collection sharing the same specifications to perfectly fit the Ives theater without alteration. As with the practice of purchasing and installing any used scenery into any new venue, it would have to be altered.

The proscenium in Fort Scott was slightly wider than that at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center. All of the backdrops and most of the cut drops would be a perfect fit. The foremost leg drops are often wider as they were intended to mask the side stages. It is difficult to increase historical scenery as one needs to not only attach new fabric, but also to paint the extensions with dry pigment. That is why we went bigger and planned on reduction.

The process is really quite simple, especially with leg drops. Two panels are removed from the center if it is a foliage, or sky scene. In some cases it even works beautifully with architecture too. In compositions where the center cannot be cut due to painted perspective, panels are removed from either an onstage side or offstage side. This is not rocket science if you know what you are doing. Having done this numerous times, I had it all planned out when the drops were purchased and shipped to Minnesota. This procedure was discussed in detail with the CEO during the spring of 2016.

The problem is that the CEO decided to swap horses midstream and go with a crew who had never completed any historical scenery restoration project before this one. They would be working with the scenery “blind” – unless they read my book, and even then it would be difficult.

To be continued…

On the Road Again

I spiraled into a deep depression after seeing the damaged scenery at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center during the Singers in Accord concert. I can always channel anger into some creative project, but devastation and despair shut down my spirit and productivity. Regardless of all desire to simply curl up into a fetal position and stay in bed each day, I focused on the upcoming deadline for the Santa Fe Scottish Rite book and I threw myself into this project. I was working as the Volume Editor and a contributor for both the Scottish Rite Theater essay and the Santa Fe Scottish Rite timeline. Some days it was a balm for my spirit. Here was a Scottish Rite Valley that would survive and its members understood the significance of their scenery collection. It was the beginning of March and I desperately anticipated my departure for USITT (United States Institute of Theatre Technology). This year, the theatre conference was taking place in St Louis, Missouri.

In addition to attending the conference, I planned to evaluate two Scottish Rite collections on the trip, as well as stop by the Theatre Museum of Repertoire Americana in Mount Pleasant, Iowa, on my drive down to St. Louis. Surprisingly, I was most excited about the theatre museum as it had been on my “bucket list” for over a decade.

Although the museum was currently closed for the season, I scheduled a private tour with one of the local volunteers. Her name was Monie and we were both excited to meet each other after having had several phone conversations. We both shared an interest in Steam Shows and theatre history – a winning combination if ever there was one! I don’t know what I was expecting, but the little brick opera house next to the Steam Threshers Reunion grounds genuinely surprised me. It was adorable. Since 1972, I had attended the Western Minnesota Steam Threshers Reunion in Rollag, Minnesota – it was one of my family’s annual traditions. For me, a Steam Show AND a Theatre Museum were an ideal combination that made me contemplate defecting to this city every Labor Day weekend instead of our annual trip up to Rollag, Minnesota. By the way, “steam thresher reunion” refers to threshing machines connected to a steam engine.

The Theatre Museum posted very little information about their contents other than advertising “a unique collection of memorabilia from early American popular entertainment. Stage drops, playbills, scrapbooks, costumes, scenery, artifacts, scripts and music scores dating from the 1850s.” Here is the current link: http://www.oldthreshers.org/index.cfm/?pageID=81 The new website should be up and running soon at www.thetheatremuseum.com

The Theatre Museum exhibits were packed full of artifacts and little displays, all backed by historic backdrops that had been used for tent shows from the 1850s to the 1950s. The museum was created in 1973 and hundreds of theatre folk had donated memorabilia since then. There was one thing in particular that made the entire trip worthwhile for me, a display on the painting table and scenic art materials of Jesse Cox (1878-1961). Cox was the generation of scenic artists immediately after Thomas Moses. Born in Seneca, Illinois, he moved to Estherville in 1891. By 1894, he went on the road with Noble Dramatic Shows of Chariton and that was when he became interested in a scenic art career.

Cox is credited with being the originator of the Diamond Dye process for stage scenery (mixing dye with warm water to make it much lighter in weight and transported more conveniently). The exhibit on Cox includes his paint bench, bowls, brushes and other products used in the diamond dye process, plus some of his designs. I was in heaven!

I could have spent hours carefully looking at and documenting each color, bowl and brush. This was a place where I would have to return someday, hopefully with colleagues and other scenic art students. It was an absolute treasure! This display was almost similar to what I had envisioned for a few of the personal artifacts of Thomas Moses at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center; it would accompany his scenery collection from Fort Scott. Remember, the theatre at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center was to be a working museum, an extension of the central museum and not just a rental space. Each area in the MMHC complex had been proposed as museum extensions, including the library and the lodge room. In these various areas, there would be a series of rotating artifacts that would encourage repeat visits by the general public and Masonic groups.

I had recommended that the Moses exhibit go between the entry doors of the Ives theatre. That display would include where the historic scenery collection originated and the scenic artist, Thomas Gibbs Moses. His Masonic cap, painter sweater, paint brush, charcoal sticks, and glue pot were just a few artifacts in the 4’ x 6’ display case. People who entered the theater would have the opportunity to understand the unique collection representing a shared cultural heritage between the Fraternity and the general public. The CEO had explained during the Spring of 2016 that there simply wasn’t enough money to create a Moses’ exhibit – maybe later. Instead, the CEO had selected a printed reproduction of an existing mural at the George Washington Masonic Memorial in Alexandria, Virginia.

Now with an unsightly and damaged scenery collection, the possibility of providing any artistic provenance connected with Moses for this internationally significant scenery collection in any display seemed impossible.

To be continued…

The Circle Game

The mass production of Scottish Rite scenery by Sosman & Landis dwindled after WWI and ceased by 1923. Volland Studios of St. Louis and Becker Bros. of Chicago assumed the lead as mass-producers of Masonic installations. After Sosman & Landis moved from the Clinton Street studios and established their business offices elsewhere, numerous letters were sent out to Scottish Rite Valleys explaining that the company was still operating and that Moses remained their art director. Moses’ work for Perry “Lester” Landis, however, was not full-time employment. The last decade of his life was spent working and living between California and Illinois, freelancing for numerous studios.

As before the rise of the scenic studio system, Moses returned to using available paint frames at different locations. In cases such as Fort Scott, paint frames were constructed on site and later incorporated into the top wooden battens. This was one of my greatest discoveries during November 2015 while onsite in Fort Scott. In addition to the dozens of handwritten notes and drawings on the inside of each wooden sandwich batten, there was the build up of colors used to prime the scenes. The study of these colors would have provided invaluable information to further our understanding of historical painting techniques, identifying aspects often invisible in completed compositions.

The primer used for backdrops was often tinted and seldom left white. This use of color saved a step in the artistic process, speeding up the entire project. Although I took some pictures in Fort Scott of the paint frame boards, I had planned on fully documenting this information during the subsequent restoration. Again, time had been limited in Fort Scott and I primarily gathered information to use in selecting scenes for the restoration order once I returned to Minnesota. If I had any inkling that someone else would be doing the restoration and this would be my last opportunity to handle the scenes, I would have spent the extra time fully documenting every detail onsite.

To be clear, the Fort Scott drops would have been rolled, identified, and packed in a different way if I had understood that someone completely unfamiliar with the contents of this collection and historic scenery would be restoring the scenes. I created a labeling system that was solely intended for my interpretation and no one else’s. The decisions that I made when rolling the scenes in Fort Scott were based on my anticipated restoration process and past experiences. If a crinkle was going to cause damage to the center of a clear blue sky, I altered other areas of the drop to prevent the wrinkle, such a splitting some seams. A split seam is easier to repair than touching up the center of a blue sky. In hindsight, the time and expense that was spent making these onsite decisions was simply a waste by all involved.

This week, I was chatting with a colleague who is the only other individual in the United States specializing in historical scenery; her focus is roll drops. We were discussing a future project and the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center debacle came up in our conversation. She said, “I am always amazed that people will jeopardize their professional reputations for money.” As soon as she said it, I realized that this was what had been bothering me all along.

The owner of Outhouse Exhibit Services had explained to me, on more than one occasion, where and when she was trained to handle historic artifacts, especially fragile ones. She must have known that hot melt glue irreparably damages painted fabric. Hot melt glue is never considered an option in ANY restoration process. Furthermore, I defy anyone to find the recommendation of hot melt glue as an appropriate binder for netting cut drops, whether historical or contemporary.

I understand that many companies do things “on the cheap,” especially when there is a looming deadline. Unfortunately, it often results in mistakes of grand proportions with an expensive price tag to reverse the damage. This is the case for the Fort Scott scenery collection, except that there is no way to fully reverse the damage.

The recent Fort Scott “restoration” makes me think of the “Demotivators” poster that defines “Mistakes.” The definition is “It could be that the purpose of your life is only to serve as a warning to others.” This is very applicable for many botched restoration projects as they now served as warning to others.

To be continued…

Here is the link to the “Demotivators” website if you need a laugh or to purchase some merchandise: https://despair.com/collections/demotivators

Hail! Hail! The Gang’s All Here

Thomas Moses was just one of many theatre artists who left memoirs that provide future generations with brief glimpses into the past. Almost two-hundred years surrounding the history of American scenic art can be explored in the writings of three artists: William Thompson Russell Smith (1812-1896), Thomas Gibbs Moses (1856-1934) and John Hanny (1890-1984). The value of their writings and artworks left us with more than than just information pertaining to their painting techniques, artistic materials and various theatre productions. I believe that their greatest contributions were the documentation of personal relationships and shared activities with other artists, whether for business or pleasure. These artists provide us with a view of the bigger picture when examining the evolution of scenic art and design.

It is Moses’ diaries from 1873-1933 that I find the most riveting, especially his descriptions during the period from 1889 to 1917. At this time, scenic artists shared their work, lives and dreams while striving toward a common goal – the painting of beautiful scenery. Unlike earlier generations, it was the various scenic studios throughout the country that inextricably linked these artists. The studio settings fostered friendships as projects were shared during times of plenty. Many artists also made large enough incomes to travel and participate in sketching trips throughout the country, gathering images for later projects.

Whether backdrops for the stage or fine art for residential parlors, these artists heard a similar calling to capture the exotic and the beautiful. This was not uncommon for the previous generations of artists; however, Moses’ generation was unique as there was a new unifying factor – the mass-production of these same painted scenes in a scenic studio setting. Their studio work contributed to their fine art work and vice versa, but as a group effort both in and out of each studio.

The rise of the scenic studio system created a vast network where artists found not only work, but also fellowship. The work was also constant as artists became part of a large studio staff. For the first time, artists like Moses could make their living solely painting in one location for theatrical venues from coast to coast. The generation before Moses created artworks for businesses other than the stage as they traveled to make a living. Early and mid-nineteenth century scenic artists traveled from town to town, and painted much more than theatre curtains while in any one location.

They supplemented their income with jobs as scientific illustrators, engravers, fresco artists, carriage painters, and sign painters, just to name a few. Many from the generation after Moses did something similar as the field of scenic art continued to evolve into film, television, and theme parks. Like their mid-nineteenth century predecessors, mid-twentieth century scenic artists painted for new venues on new substrates with new tools and new techniques. Their work reflected an ever-shifting aesthetic.

Thomas Moses worked as a scenic artist for forty-seven years when he was contracted to paint the Fort Scott scenery in 1924, having started his career in 1877. By this time, he had painted hundreds, if not thousands, of backdrops for theaters, opera houses, fraternal halls, Scottish Rite stages, circus spectacles, and world fair midways. He was a popular and a well-known artist throughout the country, having painted for famous personalities such as Joe Jefferson and Helena Modjeska.

By the time Moses painted the Fort Scott scenery, he was referred to as the”Dean of Scenic Artists.” Like those of his generation, he was a scenic artist and fine artist who sought to capture the beauty of nature with paint. Moses eloquently wrote of his landscape paintings, describing the rippling waters of the woodland stream and the lights that played on a distant mountainside. He shared these discoveries not only in his memoirs, but also in newspaper articles, and with his fellow artists. He belonged to many fine art societies and artistic groups, including New York’s Salmagundi Club, Chicago’s Palette & Chisel Club, and the Laguna Beach Art Association.

He celebrated the artistic accomplishments of his friends, even when their careers soared far beyond his own. He clipped articles of painting assistants from long ago who later became international successes and rejoiced with them. It appears as if they all celebrated each other’s victories as they strived toward a common goal through each individual artwork. His only regrets were not spending enough time painting outside of the studio to hone his own skills. Moses made friends for life and their fondness for him was apparent over the years as they sent postcards, planned outings, and shared dinners. His diary and scrapbook depict those artists whose work he respected and whose company he treasured.

I have mentioned in past posts about the shift in the scenic studio business by the 1920s when a younger generation of entrepreneurs emerged and old alliances ended. “Alliance” may not be the correct word as I believe that there was a genuine respect and appreciation for each other’s work prior to WWI. Studios might bid on the same contract, but there was a jovial competition as work was plentiful. Bidding became more cut-throat in the 1920s and 1930s, especially after work became scarce and a younger generation entered the picture.

The creation of the Fort Scott scenery collection occurs during this period of transition. The ownership of studios, especially those founded by the “old guard,” begins to change hands. This is the case with Sosman and Landis when the Fort Scott scenery collection was created onsite. Although the dry pigment boxes found high above the Fort Scott stage are labeled “Sosman & Landis c/o Scottish Rite Temple Fort Scott, Kansas,” the company had moved to new offices by that time, after residing at Clinton Street for thirty three years. Was the onsite painting of Scottish Rite scenery now necessary since a new company (Chicago Studios) was using the Clinton Street shop? Was the Sosman & Landis Company trying to save overhead expense attributed to staffing a large paint studio in downtown Chicago? The diagrams and writings by Moses on the Fort Scott wooden battens held clues to answer this queries.

It is unfortunate that the wooden battens we so carefully removed, bundled, labeled, and shipped to Minnesota were discarded and replaced with new pipe pockets during installation at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center. It was an irreplaceable loss of history for both the theatre and Freemasonry.

To be continued…

Adversity Reveals Character

As we drove home from the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center after the Singers in Accord concert, my husband and I discussed strategies that might distance myself from the poorly restored scenery. I did not want to appear as a disgruntled individual, speaking out against a past employer. Nor did I want to seem slanderous toward others, criticizing their work. However, I did want to make sure that the very poor work of others was not attributed to, or associated with, my own reputation.

Unfortunately, my name was intricately linked to the Fort Scott collection online and numerous articles supported my role as the restoration supervisor. Furthermore, the video produced by Steve Johnson’s company, Alacrity, for the 2016 Minnesota Masonic Charities Breakfast at Grand Lodge identified me as the one who would be in charge of the entire project.

Colleagues from across the country were still congratulating me about relocating the scenery, finding the Thomas Moses artifacts, and inquiring about the restoration. I continued to politely explain that my position as Curatorial Director had been eliminated and I had no knowledge of who was restoring the Fort Scott scenery, or when the project would be completed. It was easiest to not name any names at this point. These conversations always ended in awkward silence, with a colleague saying, “Well, that’s too bad. I guess it’s their loss.”

I tried to celebrate my victories and avoid looking back, leaving all of my “what ifs” on the doorstep. Each time I thought the healing would finally begin, Minnesota Masonic Charities, Minnesota Masonic Home, or the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center circus would return. The clowns kept pulling me back into the ring. One time, the unemployment office was notified that I was still receiving money from a previous employer – I was not. Then came identity theft of my personal information and the fraudulent filing of a workman’s comp claim, effectively negating my actual injury from when I unloaded the scenery tubes during 2015. Another was the lack of necessary paperwork needed for my 2016 taxes. This was getting ridiculous. I anticipated leaving town at every opportunity as I just wanted escape.

It wasn’t until I realized that the scenery was being destroyed and my name attached to the debacle that I decided to speak out. Enough was enough.

I started with a single post, distancing myself from the collection and noting those who had destroyed the scenery. I would place it on my personal Facebook page, my group Facebook page (called Dry Pigment), and my blog www.drypigment.net. Here is the post from the morning after the February 11, 2017, concert:

“I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE SCENERY RESTORATION AT THE MINNESOTA MASONIC HERITAGE CENTER
My husband’s concert last night at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center was a success! He set songs to the scenery I located, suggested for purchase, and supervised the subsequent removal and transportation from Fort Scott, Kansas, to Bloomington, Minnesota. My involvement stopped there!
Everyone I encountered last night who was familiar with my history of restoring Scottish Rite scenery, believed that I was responsible for the restoration. Much of this belief, no doubt, was based on the video shown during Grand Lodge (March 2016) at the Minnesota Masonic Charities breakfast, using my profile and reporting that a nationally recognized expert would restore the entire collection.
For professional reasons, I must distance myself from this project as the scenery has been destroyed with hot melt glue.
It is a shameful destruction of historical paintings created by the nationally recognized fine artist, Thomas Gibbs Moses (1856-1934). Attached are pictures of the scenery from last night, showing the work of someone who has never restored scenery before this project.
For past examples of my own restoration work, visit my website at www.bellascena.com”

I tried to remain positive, simply focusing on my own work and publishing past experience. Below are some examples of my own restoration work over the past few years.

I knew that Kimber Lawler was working on the restoration project all along. During Fall 2016, I had asked Mia Shillace-Nelson, owner of Outhouse Exhibit Services about her involvement. Mia had hired Kimber to paint the murals for the Ladd museum exhibits. But who was Kimber working with, as it would take a crew of people to do the preparation and actual hanging of the scenery? Could it possibly be Mia Schillace-Nelson, who was trained to handle historic artifacts?

January 2017 internet searches revealed that the project was being completed at Outhouse Exhibit Services in Northeast Minneapolis (see installment 55). I had worked with Mia and her company for two years as we designed the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center museum exhibits. I was shocked that Mia would have said nothing about her own involvement working on the restoration when I inquired about Kimber’s involvement.

Mia had once asked me how to restore scenery, requesting that I verbally walk her through the entire restoration process. In hindsight, it would suggest that she needed this information to bid on the project. Her company’s Facebook page noted that the scenery restoration work was occurring in her shop. The post has since been removed. I had once considered Mia to be a close friend.

To be continued…

Hot Melt Glue on Historic Scenery is Like Scotch Tape on a Rare Book

All of the Fort Scott drops hanging for the Singers in Accord concert at the Minnesota Masonic Center were ruined beyond repair. There was nothing I could do other than sit in the audience and try to enjoy the music, while inconspicuously wiping away tears. I assessed the obvious damage apparent from my seat in the fourth row. My mind raced as I tried to problem solve every visible flaw and come up with any solution for its repair.

From the auditorium, everything had a slight sheen that accentuated all of the sags and wrinkles caused during the improper handling and preparation for hanging. The shiny surface, a result from having too much glue in the stabilization spray, suggested that there would be a slight “crunch” to fabric if I touched it. The trees were limply hanging at a slight angle with visible netting gathering at the sides of the leg drops, like curtains. Everything looked “off” – a sad little spot in the forest indeed.

I looked up to see how the tops were attached and froze. It was worse than I could have possibly imagined. The top part of the leg had not only been cut in two and glued together to reduce the overall width. Instead, the cut edge had little “puffy cloud” scallops, as if made with craft scissors during a scrapbooking session. The two edges were loose and gapping. The entire top of the wood leg drop was not even netted. What had they been thinking?!?

The concert ended and I whispered to me mom, “I’ll be right back.” As I wound my way toward the backstage area, I tried to not make eye contact with anyone who might stop me. I dashed up the steps and darted behind a leg drop. I wanted to see how the netting was attached to the fabric. Would it be possible to ever take it off?

I stared in horror at the hot melt glue threads connecting one knotted intersection to another. This was worse than I could have possibly imagined. It seemed hard to believe that anyone who had ever worked in theater could do this poorly of a netting job. Let alone how Outhouse Exhibit Services, a company that handled historic artifacts and constructed museum exhibits, could possibly justify the use of hot melt glue on a historic painting acceptable in any circumstance. Hot melt glue on historic scenery is like Scotch tape on a rare book!

On top of the completely inappropriate use of hot melt glue, the netting was attached crooked. It was apparent that no guidelines had been snapped to layout the netting. This was a crucial step in the netting process. Even a quick Google search on “How to net a cut drop” would immediately reveals the netting process in detail as described in “Scenic Art for the Theatre: History, Tools, and Techniques” (Susan B. Crabtree and Peter Beudert, 2004). Had they not done any research on what to do – even on a new drop? The entire netting process for cut drops is available for preview online and to download as an ebook.

I was in the middle of looking at the scene when two of my husband’s colleagues approached me. “Nice job,” they said and I immediately shook my head. “No,” I responded, “I had absolutely nothing to do with this restoration – it was done by someone else.” They at once looked at me with a profound sense of relief. “Oh, thank goodness,” one said, “The scenery really looks bad.” I grimaced and nodded in agreement. So, other people saw the flaws too.

The fact that they thought I was the one responsible for the destruction of these drops gave me a chill. For people who were unfamiliar with my work, this could destroy my entire restoration. Only a very small number of people realized that I had been let go from my position as Curatorial Director.

I left the stage and sought out my husband to congratulate him as his group of fans had diminished by that point. Giving him a hug, he asked, “How did it look?” I half-smiled and nodded, not wanting to say anything that would detract from his moment. “We can talk about it later, just enjoy your success!” Then I wandered to the back of the theater to quietly chat with our friend who had photographed the concert. After mentioning the sad state of the scenery, he looked at me and said, “Not your circus. Not your monkeys.” He was right, but I had a growing concern that people mistakenly believed that I restored the scenes and in my field, reputation was everything.

A few years back, I had a professional drop to his knees and bow. I couldn’t conceive that his gesture and was meant for me and looked over my shoulder, expecting to see the recipient of his praise. We were meeting for the first time in 2014 at a League of Historical American Theaters conference in NYC. He got up from the floor, shook my hand, and said, “It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve seen your work in McAlester, Oklahoma. It’s absolutely amazing!” The professional was Jeff Greene of EverGreene Architectural Arts and he had just finished discussing his own company’s restoration work at King’s Theatre in Brooklyn. I considered Jeff to be one of the preeminent experts in the field of historic theater restoration and couldn’t possibly understand how he might remember my work or my name. I was a very small business owner, but my reputation had preceded me.

Like many artists, our reputations are built on our professionalism and final product. If our work impresses people, we get hired again. Our work is primarily spread through word of mouth. As with a work ethic, we can’t fake a skill. That is why I’ve never lied on a resumé or misrepresented my work. People pay attention, make inquiries, and talk to colleagues about past experiences on various projects. We cannot succeed or get hired if we leave a legacy of disastrous results.

As I left the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center after my husband’s concert, I was horrified that this botched “restoration” might be associated with me.

To be continued…

The remaining painted scenes for the Singers in Accord concert at the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center used cut drops with one-inch opera netting – the cathedral, King Solomon’s private apartments, and the woods. As I looked at the cathedral, the first thing that I noticed was the inappropriate use of white netting.

Historically, netting for early-twentieth century Scottish Rite cut drops was black, allowing it to “disappear” on stage. White netting in cut openings slightly obscures the background, creating a subtle “haze” to cloud the upstage composition. I have noticed that the rationale for selecting white netting is often to match the dominant color of the composition. Black netting contributes to the overall scenic illusion. Unfortunately, they had made the unfortunate selection of white netting for the cathedral scene. The cut openings now suggested an eerie cloudiness to this religious setting.

The next scene was King Solomon’s Apartments and I started to experience a sense of increased hopelessness.

It was apparent that an amateur had attached the netting and it had not gone smoothly. As with the cloud cut drop there were puckers and wrinkles everywhere, particularly at the corners of every opening. These symptoms indicate that the painted scenes shrank unevenly when the drops were stabilized (sprayed with a liquid solution to keep the dusting pigment attached to the fabric). This made it impossible to effectively net as the fabric would not lay flat. Without any regard to this condition, netting had been attached anyway. It now hung with large sags at every corner. It had an appearance similar to crow’s feet gathering at the corners of aged eyes.

Additionally, this King Solomon scene was intended to go with a painted cyclorama that provided an incredible amount of depth on stage. Instead, it just sat in front of a poorly lit white cyclorama. I sat there sadly wondering how the final scene would appear.

As Thomas Moses’ masterpiece – the forest scene – was lowered to the stage, I stopped breathing and my chest tightened. There is that moment when you break a fragile piece of china – a precious family heirloom. You see the shattered remnants everywhere and know that it can’t be fixed. It is all just lost – forever – and there is nothing that you can do about it. You certainly can’t wish it away. That was how I felt looking at the drops that evening.

I spent the remainder of the concert trying to regain my composure. When I first walked into the theater, I was determined not to go up on the stage and look closely at the scenery. Now it was like driving by a horrific car accident; I was compelled to turn and assess the carnage.

To be continued…