Western Trips – Page 7 – Drypigment.net

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar – Pasadena Departure Day

Exterior of the Scottish Rite in Pasadena, California.

A little after 8:00 AM I arrived at the Scottish Rite. My goal was to attach the top and bottom battens by 10:00AM so that we could hang the scene before my departure at 2:00PM. This should be a fairly simple task to accomplish…if the battens had been labeled per my request when they were removed from the drop. If these were the only wooden sandwich battens along the back wall of the stage, that would be one thing – but there were others.

So I started to pull from the pile the ones that I thought might be for the scene. On top of this, one of the two volunteers was not going to make it. In a way, this was a little bit of a relief as the “hunting” was going to be problematic at best. The only worse thing would be an assistant randomly pulling lumber and asking, “Is this it?” A one point, my sole volunteer pointed to a stack of neatly labeled lumber on one of the racks and suggested that the pile might be from our drop. As I looked at the handwriting on the masking tape labels, I said, “Those are MY labels from the last time I was here and we had to remove the bottom battens from a damaged leg drop.”

There are a few fortunate things that happened during the search. The first was that the bottom batten was painted to match the scene. The second was that the top batten had paint slopped on it from the 1940s when the scene was touched up. All I had to do was match the screw holes, right? Well, kind of… You see there were two sets of screw holes – the first from when the scenery was installed in Little Rock, the second from when the scenery was installed in Pasadena. It took some time, but I was attaching the battens by 10:00AM.

Over the years, I have gotten pretty smart about how I attach the fabric to the battens. The big thing is that I use tables and work standing up. This saves my back and time. Well, this method only works with a minimum of three people, ideally four. I had one – so I started to create my guidelines on the floor, determined to occasionally stand up and stretch my back. Twenty years ago, attaching battens on the floor was a snap – no so much anymore. There was not much help as my volunteer could not easily kneel on the floor either. Looking like I was stretching for yoga, I slowly scooted along the filthy floor, thankful that I had a change of clothes for my flight that afternoon.

Now, the second problem – locating the screws. We had picked up new screws as sometimes the old hardware was compromised during the removal from the batten. The Valley requested that I reuse the slotted screws. Ok. I did, but all couldn’t be located at first. Ironically, my assistant found the screws on top of a table in a stage left alcove. I cannot tell you how humorous I found his finding the screws next to the mannequin of the “dead Hiram” that was laying on the table. Of all the places to find them! So with all of the screws, except three that had snapped during the initial removal, I completed attaching the battens.

Then we waited for my rigging crew to show up, after I sent the “ready to go” text. Nothing like having a professional crew on standby. Everything worked beautifully and the drop was up in the air by 1:30PM – just in time.

This project was the perfect “dry run” for the upcoming restoration work. I have my rigging crew and am thrilled with their personalities and abilities. This was also a good run for the Valley as they now know me, my work, the complexity of handling historic scenes and the hanging of backdrops.

Tomorrow, I am back to the storyline in my blog about Thomas G. Moses in the year 1896.

The new solar panels over the Pasadena Scottish Rite parking lot, providing shade for the cars and power for the building. The is really a healthy and vibrant Valley that is looking toward the future.

To be continued…

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar – Day 2 in Pasadena

I was able to finish the fabric repair on the crucifixion drop at the Pasadena Scottish Rite yesterday. The patches needed to fully dry overnight, so that the battens could be attached this morning before my departure. Everything appears to be still on schedule.

The central damage to the crucifixion scene at the Pasadena Scottish Rite.

Preparing to join the two halves of the crucifixion drop at the Pasadena Scottish Rite.

The reason that I love scenery restoration work is the uncertainty and surprise. You can never be positive of the outcome. Dye batches, textile mills, and the stage environment all wreak havoc with the scene over decades; there are no guarantees or standard guidelines to follow. Trying to rejoin a drop that has been ripped in half has a dozen possibilities for an unsuccessful end.

There could be puckering along the patch as the historic fabric and the fabric of the new patch shrink at differing rates. The glue can bleed through to the painted surface, causing unsightly dye lines. The fabric can have stretched to such an extent that the painted composition is a ½-inch off. Wrinkles may be introduced to the scene while gently pulling the two sides together as the fabric will stretch when damp before tightening up again. The list is unending and one cannot anticipate many of the problems that will be encountered.

Finished repair after attaching thirteen reinforcement strips and the central patch for the crucifixion scene at the Pasadena Scottish Rite.

Yesterday, everything went like clockwork as I slowly pieced the scene together with a series of patches. The patch must absorb the majority of the liquid in the glue before placing it onto a historic backdrop; this prevents potential dye lines. However, there is a small window of time when the patch is “perfect” for attaching to the scene before it becomes too dry to still adhere to the fabric. I was lucky today and had good help.

View of the various patches applied to the back of the crucifixion backdrop at the Pasadena Scottish Rite.

For all of the patches, the fabric was so thin that the glue immediately bled through to the painted surface, yet I was fortunate as there were minimal dye lines. I had to determine the perfect amount of glue and set time before applying the patch, preventing unsightly dye lines yet allowing the patch to hold. If there is not enough glue or the “set up” time is too long, the patch won’t stick or stay secure. You don’t know if the patch is successful and undetectable from the audience until the repair is fully dried. Every step is a gamble.

I waited an hour for the center seam to dry and then I began attaching the reinforcement strips along the top and the bottom edges. For the center seam, I joined the two pieces “face up.” I used this same technique for the 4” reinforcement strips at the top and bottom. Luckily for me, one of the volunteers showed up to help me with the reinforcement strips as they were over 20 feet long.

Then, I dealt with the splitting seams in the translucent areas. Although I used theatrical gauze for the central rip, the remainder of the seams were reinforced with a small amount of glue applied to the underside of the seam. This secured it without using a 1” strip that may be visible in the end. There were many other small patches to place, but it all went well and the repaired scene was completed.

It was a successful repair as the president of the building association couldn’t detect the original central rip.

In the afternoon, we met with the local TD who would secure a rigging crew to hang the scene. By the way, when is one of the worst times to locate a certified rigger in Pasadena? That would be immediately after the Oscars – this week. We are still hoping to get the drop up in the air before my departure. That is is something that I had not thought possible upon assessing the damage upon my arrival two days ago. So, off I go in great hopes that everything will continue to work out. Attaching battens is as risky as attaching a patch, and I am sure that there will be surprises along the way.

To be continued…

Travels of a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Restoration work at the Scottish Rite in Pasadena, California.

As the Song Goes, “Always Look on the Bright Side of Life” (cue the whistling). It was an appropriate tune while repairing the crucifixion scene at the Pasadena Scottish Rite Cathedral yesterday.

Last November, the Crucifixion backdrop at Scottish Rite in Pasadena, California ripped in two. The damage was instigated by a horizontal tear near the top batten on the stage right side. I had notified the Valley about this impending problem during my visit in August 2016 when I was evaluating their scenery collection. At the time, the rip had temporarily “paused” at a vertical seam. It took fifteen months before the rip would finally break through that seam and continue across the drop. Near the center of the drop, there was another weak spot in the fabric, causing the rip to change direction and become a vertical tear.

The damage that I was anticipating at the Pasadena Scottish Rite. A few large tears in the crucifixion backdrop.

In addition to this massive damage there were many other problems, punctures and previous repairs throughout the drop. One of the patches was attached to the drop with hot melt glue, making me cringe as this particular adhesive destroys historic fabric.

This hot melt glue patch is not the first one that I have encountered. Have I mentioned how much I hate people who use hot melt glue on historical scenery?

The damage caused to the fabric substrate when trying to remove hot melt glue. No, freezing it does not work like gum on a shirt.

It is impossible to remove without destroying the fabric, but cannot remain as it does not provide adequate support. In short hot melt glue cause more damage to historic fabric than almost anything else – except water. All of the previous patches on the Crucifixion drop were also starting to fail and needed to be replaced.

If this damage weren’t bad enough, there were two other factors were at play: extremely thin fabric and a later application of flame retardant.

The rust tinge caused by applying flame retardant to the back side of a drop that is already painted. It takes a few decades to appear, but flame retardant sprayed “after the fact” is a death sentence to historic scenery.

Notice how thin the fabric is for the Crucifixion backdrop at the Pasadena Scottish Rite Cathedral.

The fabric was akin to fine theatrical gauze. I had never encountered such a fine backdrop material before and was shocked at the choice. The translucent areas had been left as raw muslin and darkened over time, especially with the application of flame retardant. The particular formula of flame retardant in 1949 stained much of the fabric, giving everything a slight look of pale rust stains. Flame retardant, applied “after the fact,” also left standard damage that included flaking paint and crunchy fabric. The combination of these two factors made some areas of the drop feel like old tissue paper, ready to crumble at a moments notice. The combination of all the above-mentioned elements contributed to an even larger problem; all of the vertical seams were starting to fail.

I had anticipated the two large rips and needing to replace some previous patches. I had not anticipated the failing of all seams, nor had the pictures depicted this particular issue as I corresponded with the Scottish Rite representatives over the past few months. I had allotted a two-day repair with hanging the drop on the morning of my departure. There would be no extra time for me as I had another project waiting at home.

Immediately upon my arrival at the Burbank airport, we dropped off my supplies at the Temple before heading to my hotel. My flight had been delayed and it was after 1AM in the morning when the plane landed. Upon visiting the Scottish Rite, I assessed the damage and felt that familiar sinking feeling of impending doom. As the damage was far more extensive that anticipated, I began my preparations for the next day by 2AM.

Button on the Pasadena Scottish Rite light board.

Unless I managed to put in about five days time in 2 ½ days, the drop would never be ready to hang before my departure. I knew that I would never be able to see it hang, but I could make sure the drop was repaired. Yesterday was a long day, 9:00AM until 11:30PM. On the bright side, I will likely make my target. What I did manage to accomplish was the following: carefully removing the remaining wooden battens; preparing the space for restoration; cleaning the damaged areas; and reinforcing the splitting with vertical patches.

One more day of my life spent crawling around on my hands and knees over historic scenery. Regardless of the physical strain, lower back paint, and sore shoulders, I was blissfully happy (as almost always). There is something wonderful about trying to revive a scene that most would deem unsalvageable and likely find its way into a dumpster. For me, it would be unconscionable to walk away, explaining that the vertical seams were failing and no amount of help could salvage the torn remnants. I decided to look at it as a challenge a make the best of my time here.

In the morning, I presented the various options for repair to the President of the Temple Building Association in light of the new discoveries. We decided to apply a vertical patch to each seam as there was not time or material to back the entire drop. There are several reasons for selecting this method, timeframe being the most important. So, I cleaned the seam and began slowly patching each of the eleven vertical seams. I needed to finish all of them the first day, so that I could focus on the actual rip next and the reinforcement of the top and bottom the second day.

A photo of my progress while patching the splitting seams on the crucifixion drop at the Pasadena Scottish Rite. I will use different fabric for patches in the translucent section of the sky so that they are not visible when backlit.

A view of the backdrop repair occurring on the stage form the light booth at the Pasadena Scottish Rite.

Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work I go.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Acquiring The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, part 8.

While Wendy Waszut-Barrett is traveling for research and art acquisitions (October 14-29, 2017) she is reposting the first fifteen installments from “Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar Acquiring: The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center.” Here is her eighth post from February 22, 2017.

Part 8: Our First Day on the Job in Fort Scott

I was unable to conduct a complete evaluation due to time restrictions imposed by the CEO on our August road trip. My preliminary evaluation only depicted the individual drops and I needed to accurately record how each drop was paired with others to stage a complete scene and the subsequent spacing. This was crucial to any understanding of the entire collection as a whole prior to its removal and transportation. It was also imperative that there be “before” pictures for both historical documentation and as a resource during restoration and installation. Furthermore, as Curatorial Director one of my tasks would be to create a publication documenting the acquisition, restoration, significance and artistic provenance of this scenery collection. Therefore, the first two days in Fort Scott were spent documenting all of the scenes.

View of the bottom battens and counterweights at the Fort Scott Scottish Rite theater. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

The project’s lead rigger, Brandon, and his second, Todd, were on site that first day. The remaining two members of the crew were still in transit from Jackson, Tennessee, hauling up the necessary supplies and tools for the project. The first morning, after cordial but stilted introductions, we left for the Scottish Rite.

Entrance to the Scottish Rite in Fort Scott, Kansas. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

Lobby of the Scottish Rite in Fort Scott, Kansas. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

Upon entering the building, we noticed the chill. Our working environment was going to be a cold one. Before lowering anything, we decided to explore the theatre area and inspect our working environment. It was also an opportunity for us to gradually become acquainted with each other. Within the first fifteen minutes of our journey I knew that everything would be fine throughout the duration of the project. Our personalities were well matched. It was obvious that both men were smart, easy going, and had that perfect amount of self-deprecating humor to make any project entertaining.

There is something delightful about exploring all of the nooks and crannies in an abandoned building with others who also see it as an adventure. The space adjacent to the theatre had been a bank and only the old safe remained as a silent reminder of its past grandeur. The space was now a deteriorated shell, the windows all gone. Puddles suggested a recent rainstorm and the only remaining inhabitants were birds and vermin. We left the space feeling slightly deflated, barring the doors once again with a tree branch to prevent unwanted visitors into the theatre.

The old bank connected to the Fort Scott Scottish Rite building. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

Old Fort Scott bank adjacent to Scottish Rite building. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

Detail of old safe in abandoned Fort Scott bank. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

We went on to examine the staircase leading to the space above the auditorium ceiling. In all of my travels, I have crawled high above stages and balanced on planks above plaster ceilings. Every time, it was a treasure trove of artifacts left by the original workmen. Unexpected finds often included Prince Albert in a can, old newspapers, tools, and other abandoned artifacts long forgotten by various individuals. This investigation is always delightful when accompanied by fellow explorers, each seeking clues from a long-forgotten time. Although short and uneventful, this quest formed a basic foundation for the entire project.

Top of staircase leading to space above auditorium at Fort Scott Scottish Rite theater. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

View of Fort Scott scenery collection from organ room above the proscenium arch. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

Returning to the stage floor, we slowly began the time-consuming process of pairing drops to create the appropriate settings for each degree. We also tried to backlight any transparent area. Lighting was limited as many of the stage lights were missing. I would soon realize that we had not viewed the entire Fort Scott collection during our August visit. There were many more than 80 drops, 94 to be exact. That was eighteen percent more scenery than I had anticipated for this project. In the big picture, all of my estimations were off and it would be a challenge to complete the project before Thanksgiving.

This was a direct result of the CEO ignoring my expertise and request to complete a proper evaluation. Ironically, I would end up shouldering the blame for his ignorance.

View of the stage left side of the Fort Scott Scottish Rite stage and the bottoms of the drops. Photograph by Wendy Waszut-Barrett, November 2015.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Acquiring the Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, part 62

You Came to Me from Out of Nowhere

We left Santa Fe and the Scottish Rite on October 23, 2016, heading toward Austin, Texas. It would take us two days to get there and Christee Lee was determined that we visit the UFO Museum in Roswell. While touring the museum, I thought of the CEO’s comment regarding the creation of the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center’s Ladd Museum. He said, “Anyone can design a museum.” Looking at plastic Kmart frames showcasing copies of questionable facts hung from pegboards, I thought, “Yes, ANYONE can design a museum, but that doesn’t mean that they SHOULD.” I knew that at some point, the owner and investors had walked through with immense pride for their creation, not understanding that it could have been so much more.

UFO Museum display in Roswell, New Mexico.

After lunch in an alien-themed Mexican restaurant, we continued on toward Texas in the repaired RV. Now complete with new tires and a repaired septic, we would face yet another trial.

It was rush hour when we entered the Austin City limits. I had just finished transcribing the last page of Moses’ 1931 Diary and noticed that we had pulled into a parking lot. We were waiting for the rush-hour traffic to diminish and I said “What timing!” We were almost to our final location and decided to stop for dinner. I was still mentally processing the final entries by Moses as I crawled out of the backseat. In December of 1931, Moses shipped his designs and theatre model off to Chicago in two massive trunks that necessitated excess handling fees.

Transcribing Moses’ 1931 Diary in the backseat of a truck while we crossed the country.

Stepping out of the truck onto the warm asphalt, I took stock of our new surroundings when I heard an exclamation from Christee. Unbelievably, the RV door wouldn’t open, it was jammed shut. After determining that prying open the door with a crow bar or shoving me in thru a broken window was not the soundest of plans, we called AAA and headed to our new campground. The remainder of the evening was spent waiting for a locksmith. Luckily, the lock on the exterior bar worked and we were able to relax while waiting for the locksmith and discussing our schedules for the next few days.

Success – the locksmith opened the RV door.

I had waited for over twenty years to visit the Harry Ransom Center and I was going to spend every single one of my moment there looking at the 1920s electric theatre model, Moses’ typed manuscript, and Moses’ scrapbook. This was the same manuscript and scrapbook that I created an index as an undergraduate student. I was extremely curious about the 1920’s model and the miniature lights that lit the stage. Lance Brockman had once photographed it and raved about miniature lights, explaining how the painting could change each scene from daytime to nighttime. So amazed was he with it, that he had included images in his catalogue for “Theatre of the Fraternity: Staging the Sacred Space of the Scottish Rite” in 1996.

Eric Colleary, Cline Curator of Theatre and Performing Arts at the Harry Ransom Center, was going to personally take me into the bowels of the archives the next day as the two trunks could not be moved to the reading room. It had taken over a month to plan my trip to the archives, but Brockman had connected me with the Colleary who also held a Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota’s Department of Theatre Arts and Dance.

While driving across the plains of Texas and reading Moses’ diary entries, I began to wonder if there might be any connection between the theatre model that I was traveling to see, rumored as a Sosman & Landis Studio artifact, and Moses. Would there be any of Moses’ 1920s designs in with the collection, such as the unique Fort Scott compositions from 1924?

The next day, we wound our way to the model, pushing aside rows of hanging puppets that blocked our path. How ironic, I thought, here is this magnificent model tucked away behind rows of puppets – the painted stage’s smallest performers. I looked at the two massive trunks sitting on palettes against the back wall and had a growing sense of excitement. Could these really contain Moses’ work?

The two trunks containing the model stage and Masonic designs at the archives.

To be continued…

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar: Part 61.

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

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

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

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

The warm lights of fall reflecting through the trees.

Color in the landscape and in the local architecture.

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

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

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

View of the photo shoot from the arbor rail.

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

To be continued…

Painted details at the Santa Fe Scottish Rite.

Tales from a Scenic Artist and Scholar. Acquiring The Fort Scott Scottish Rite Scenery for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center, part 60

Escape

It felt like I was fleeing the state on October 12, 2016; so desperate was my need to leave Minnesota and seek sanctuary in Santa Fe. I began a cross-country road trip with two dear friends from college. We had all been in the theatre department together at the University of Minnesota and shared many stressful times working on theatre productions or other projects. It was a trip that would test the limits of any relationship as we journeyed from Des Moines, Iowa, to Santa Fe, New Mexico in Christee Lee’s RV. After Santa Fe, our plan was to venture east to Austin, Texas, so that I could visit the Harry Ransom Research Center at the University of Texas – Austin. There was a 1920s electric theatre model that I had wanted to see for over twenty years.

At Jethro’s BBQ enjoying dinner with Christee, Andrew and Isabelle before departing on our trip the next day. Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa.

Getting the RV ready to leave Des Moines, Iowa.

As we travelled across country, I finally started a project that had been on the back burner since 2014; transcribing a handwritten diary of Thomas Gibbs Moses from 19131. In case you had forgotten, Moses was the sole scenic artist for the Fort Scott collection and I had been restoring his landscape drops in Scottish Rite theaters for years.

This handwritten diary was but one of many that he referenced when compiling his final typed manuscript in 1931. As an undergraduate, I had created an index for both Moses’ Diary and his Scrapbook. The handwritten diary is part of Lance Brockman’s collection, and he had passed it off to me during the fall of 2014 with the hope that I would transcribe it in my “spare time.” Unfortunately, my work for the Minnesota Masonic Heritage Center had taken precedence over the past two years and it had remained untouched – always placed on the corner of my drafting table. This little book had moved from my Bella Scena, LLC office in Cambridge to my “office house” in Bloomington, and finally to our new home in Crystal. For my travels, I took digital photos of each page, knowing that I would want to enlarge them on my iPad for viewing.

My view from the backseat during our cross country journey.

I watched the landscape from the back seat of a truck, carefully transcribing page after page of Moses’ almost illegible script. My iPad perched against the door handle and my laptop balanced on my knees, I slowly entered each word into my document. Moses had a tendency to not only misspell, but also use various spellings for the same word. The first twenty pages of transcription were difficult until I familiarized myself with his cursive and the phrasing. My first breakthrough was recognizing “the,” and “down.” Interestingly, if I didn’t think to hard about what I was doing, the sentences would occasionally just flow from the page onto my laptop.

A page from the 1931 Diary of Thomas G.Moses – owned by Lance Brockman.

1931 was a low point in Moses’ career, having been betrayed by many of those he had worked for throughout the past five decades and found himself financially stressed. He looks back over the years, yearning to paint for pleasure instead of a paycheck; he wishes that he were a more accomplished as an artist at the age of 75. His age and health were becoming a liability as he struggled to obtain work for the first time in his life. Up until then, it had he had an abundance of work. As I realized his struggle, both financial and internal, I thought that this might be an appropriate time to read his entries.

On January 14, 1931, he writes, “I am going to Milwaukee tomorrow with Megan and see if I can dig up some work as I understand there is a Masonic job up there or that is what I want to do as much as I can as I am more fitted for that.” He knew the type of painting that he did best, yet the Masonic work was drying up after the crash of 1929 and the Scottish Rite Masons were not paying their bills. Masons not paying their bills was nothing new and the scenic studios constantly waited in fear for a Valley to renege on a contract, or skip the final payment. For years, the Sosman & Landis Studio financed various Scottish Rite Valleys for terms of six years or more. But many Valleys were always late on the final payments, making both artists and studios to beg for what was contractually theirs.

Furthermore, as painted scenery work became scarce, the game of securing scenery installations became a cutthroat business for scenic studios. As a younger generation began to replace original studio founders and create competing companies in the 1920s, old alliances began to crumble. Gentlemanly agreements between studios during the first two decades of twentieth century ceased. Moses continued to seek work and studio space in both California and Illinois, finding plenty of “part-time” work without any of the full-time job security. During some of his darkest hours his family suffered from Scarlet Fever. On top of everything else, Moses writes in despair, “Still floundering along with little in sight, and the house full of sick ones.” My little case of Shingles paled in comparison.

This was a particularly difficult story to read for a variety of reasons, but especially in light of my former employer. As I transcribed Moses’ soul-wrenching entries, I sympathized with his desperation and overall sense of betrayal. He had worked as a scenic artist for over fifty years and now was either being cast aside for cheaper artists or taken advantage of by studio owners. Moses understood that his age was a liability, but there were no retirement plans. There simply was no safety net for aging freelance artists. So Moses turned to fine art, painting and trying to sell enough of his work to cover his ever-increasing bills, writing, “I am doing all I can to get some of my pictures out but it seems a hard job, no one wants to take a chance on selling them.”

Moses never joined the scenic artists’ union nor transitioned into painting for film. His career remained firmly in the production of painted scenery for the stage with skills that many no longer sought. Furthermore, he did not have the backing of a single company to ensure his retirement as Sosman & Landis became tossed about between shareholders. Moses only had a savings account for old age and that was rapidly diminishing after the 1929 market crash.

As I continued to transcribe the diary on my way to Santa Fe, I wondered about his contractual negotiations both in Santa Fe and Fort Scott. Did either of these Valleys pay their final invoices on time or were they part of the ongoing problem; one that would manifest into aged buildings with deferred maintenance?

To be continued…