Screen savers
Baltimore painters keep the urban folk art of window screen scenes alive.
from the June 14, 2007 edition
Page 2 of 3
There's a reason for this, though one which may be losing its imperative as Baltimore changes. Through much of the 20th century the red-roofed cottage – which Oktavec got from a greeting card – was said to represent a dream cherished within Baltimore's blue-collar neighborhoods, especially those on the east side of the city.
"These pictures, these screens, seemed just right in East Baltimore," muses Peter Hilsee, of the American Visionary Arts Museum, which seeks the quirky art of the untrained genius. The museum is showing works by 11 screen painters, displayed in the windows and doors of Baltimore row houses, with marble steps, faux stone and brick facades, reconstructed inside the museum.
"Perhaps these screens depicted a way of life they couldn't have," Mr. Hilsee says – "they" being those who painted them and those who bought them for as little as a half dollar.
It was working man's art. "These painters roamed the neighborhoods during the Depression years," says Elaine Eff, Maryland's state folklorist. "In the '40s and '50s there were probably 100,000 painted screens throughout row house Baltimore."
Ms. Eff came as a catalyst to Baltimore's folk culture. Though born in botanically lush environs far from the brick and concrete precincts that came to fascinate her, she brought academic expertise and deep sympathy for things folkloric, especially screen painting. In 1985 she assembled the Painted Screen Society of Baltimore to call attention to the craft that, in the words of one academic, was "born and grew here from whole cloth, invented, as it were, by one resourceful resident."
As Baltimore's folklorist then, Eff enabled the production of two films about screen painting. She finds thoughts of its demise unpleasant.
"We are very much at ebb," she admits. "But we also witness revivals." She's working on one, in collaboration with the museum; she hopes next year to take a census of current screen painters.
A few younger artists carry on the tradition here, such as Jennifer Crouse. She strays from the norm, painting screens backed by black cloth, to be hung inside, not in the window frame. Another, Jenny Campbell, paints streetscapes with photographic realism, and portraits of late Baltimore characters like H.L. Mencken and jazz pianist Eubie Blake.
Today you can find hundreds of decorated doors and windows in East Baltimore. Clearly they still appeal to the locals, and tour buses occasionally glide through the streets. At the Hatton Senior Center, every window frames a picture by the greats among the post-Oktavec generation: Leroy Bennett, Johnny Eck, Ted and Ben Richardson, Greg Reillo, Frank Abremski, Dee Herget, Tom Lipka – the last two, the only ones left.
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