Imaginary Landscapes – Part 2
The dazzling animal fur patterns that humans so admire and prize in predatory cats such as tigers and leopards, and graceful prey creatures including zebras and giraffes serve the purpose of survival in the wild. They allow these animals to blend into the background or confuse the eye as to where they are and what they are. In fact, camouflage is common in the animal kingdom. Ironically, it is these very desirable patterns of fur and feather that have lead to these animals’ endangerment.
Camouflage also serves a survival value in military endeavors. As a counter example, the British Red Coats during the American Revolutionary War would have fared better in drab olive green or brown uniforms. The redness of their coats enabled the British soldiers and officers to identify each other in a wooded landscape, but also made them easy targets for the more rag-tag soldiers of the American Revolution.
During World War I, the military use of camouflage accelerated and became more sophisticated. Battleships were painted in dazzling zebra stripes to hide them from enemy eyes or painted white so as to disappear along the horizon. Villages in Belgium were hidden by camouflage, as were cement “pillboxes” that hid ammunition. The British had become especially good at the art and science of concealment. They provided training for their own soldiers and American military staff, including camouflage expert Colonel John Ohmer, Jr. Later, in Word War II, it was especially important to use camouflage to hide from surveillance cameras shooting photos or film from above.

Concealing an ammunition pillbox during WWI
I’m not sure why, technically, but often the human eye can catch hidden items better when looking at black and white photographic images than in real life. We’re actually good at finding things that don’t look quite right or look out of place this way.
Aircraft factories along the West Coast of the United States were often constructed from wood frames and thus especially prone to damage and destruction by fire, bombing, and aerial attack. To protect and conceal these factories, vital to the war effort, including the Boeing plants just south of Seattle, faux suburbs were constructed on top of acres of factory space. This was a joint endeavor by military camouflage experts and Hollywood film crews, using the magic engendered by the creation of movie sets, lighting effects, and related motion picture know-how. The “prop villages” must have also been reasonably attractive places for Boeing workers to take a break or even have a picnic, as archival photos suggest.
I had wanted to capture the images posted online of these make-believe yet very real structures and their denizens using a “realistically unrealistic,” or perhaps “unrealistically realistic” style. These images had me thinking about theatrical stage sets, the animated cartoons I loved as a young child, and magic shows. It also led to my thinking about the way that so much of 2-D art is an illusion and how we use perspective and color to trick the eye into seeing a flat surface with the dimension of depth. Starting sometime around the Renaissance, (I’m not entirely sure of my art history) and the development of optical devices, artists began to focus on the use of perspective to create entire towns and villages on wood and canvas.
I had to admit my art skills weren’t up to the task that I had playfully envisioned. Out of five paintings, it turned out that there was only one that I liked, “Lady in Red Jacket.” The lady in the painting could be a flight attendant from the 1940's or maybe a real estate lady posing in front of a new suburban development, or maybe neither of the above. The other four paintings look to me like they might be good scaffolds for some collage work, a la Romare Bearden, one of my art heroes. The Boeing workers with headscarves holding their hair back from machinery could use an art paper flourish? The trees could look more like chicken wire and burlap constructions using bark paper? I intend to start working on this soon…

A picnic at the Boeing faux suburb