Spirit Painting
Part I: The Campbell Brothers
During the heyday of spiritualism, among the “physical phenomena”
commonly manifested were so-called spirit paintings. These were
portraits and other artworks, done in various media and produced under a
variety of conditions but always ascribed to spirit entities. During
1998 and 1999 I was able to examine several of these at Lily Dale, the
western New York spiritualist colony, and to thereby shed light on some
century-old mysteries.
Figure 1. “Spirit” writing and painting produced on a slate during
the heyday of “physical mediumship” (now exhibited at the Lily Dale
Museum).
Full-fledged spirit paintings, often portraits of the dearly
departed, were typically rather elaborate renderings in oils or pastels.
Although looking for all the world like artworks done by professionals,
they were produced under remarkable conditions: e.g., during a short
time, in complete or near darkness, etc. The most famous spirit-painting
mediums were the Bangs sisters (the subject of
Part II) and the Campbell brothers.
Although there are myriad discussions of spirit painting (e.g.,
Coates 1911; Carrington 1920; Mulholland 1938), I have come across no
real history of the alleged phenomenon and nothing to establish its
origin or chronicle its development. The following few paragraphs are my
attempt to fill this void.
Soon after modern spiritualism began in 1848 with the spirit rappings
of the Fox sisters (who confessed their trickery four decades later),
spirit pictures began to appear in a very simple form. The earliest ones
of which I am aware were drawings produced as an extension of
“automatic” writing, whereby messages were supposedly dictated by
otherworldly entities or the medium’s hand was allegedly guided by them.
For example, in 1851 John Murray Spear (b. 1804) produced séance
writings and “also geometrical drawings and strange unintelligible
figures, of which no interpretation was vouchsafed” (Podmore 1902,
1:216).
Figure 2. A typical “spirit” pastel portrait by the Campbell Brothers (exhibited at the Maplewood Hotel, Lily Dale).
In the mid 1860s, a Glasgow cabinetmaker and spiritualist named David
Duguid (1832-1907) began painting small landscapes while being
observed, according to psychical investigator Frank Podmore (1902,
II:130), “apparently in deep trance, and with his eyes apparently
closed”-emphasis on the word
apparently. Podmore (1902, II:131)
was “disposed to regard Duguid’s trance utterances as probably not
involving conscious deception,” but his later mediumistic demonstrations
are another matter. Magician John Mulholland in his
Beware Familiar Spirits (1938, 158), says Duguid was among the mediums who employed “simple substitution of painted for unpainted cards.”
After the debut of slate-writing-a phenomenon claimed to have been
“discovered” by “Dr.” Henry Slade (d. 1905)-spirit pictures also began
to appear, sometimes accompanying writing (see figure 1), sometimes
separately. These pictures could be done (like the messages) with a
simple slate pencil, but more ornate ones were rendered with colored
chalks or paints. The slate effects were done under conditions that
supposedly precluded trickery, thereby seeming to prove they were
authentic spirit productions. In fact, however, they were easily
produced by a variety of conjuring techniques, and mediums were
repeatedly caught faking the phenomena (Houdini 1924).
Although spirit painting is distinct from spirit photography, there
was actually some overlap. Interestingly, early photographic
techniques-daguerreotypes, ambrotypes, etc.-did not yield spirit
portraits; those awaited the advent of glass-plate negatives which
facilitated double exposures. After spirit photography became
established in 1862 (by Bostonian William H. Mumler1),
painted
portraits or other artworks obviously served on occasion as the basis
for photographed spirit “extras.” Some mediumistic photographers
produced photo images with artistically added “veils,” “shrouds,” and
other funereal trappings (see examples in Permut 1988). And David Duguid
expanded his repertoire from spirit paintings to spirit photographs and
even “psychographs” (supposedly non-camera spirit or psychic photos)
(Coates 1911, 65). One way the latter were produced involved using
seemingly unprepared paper that actually contained a chemically
bleached-out image. At the appropriate time the paper would be secretly
pressed against a blotter dampened with a developing solution
(Carrington 1920, 220-221).
Figure 3. “Spirit” oil painting, Azur, produced in stages during an 1898 séance (exhibited at the Maplewood Hotel, Lily Dale).
At Lily Dale, I was able to examine several pictures by the Campbell
brothers-or I should say, “brothers,” since they were unrelated.
(According to my sources at Lily Dale, they were a gay couple in a time
when differences in sexual orientation were less tolerated.) They were
Allan B. Campbell (1833-1919) and Charles “Campbell” (born Charles
Shourds, who died August 23, 1926). They lived at Lily Dale but traveled
widely, reportedly making twenty-two trips to Europe. Their mediumship
involved slate writing and spirit typewriting (produced in a portable
cabinet), but they are best known for their spirit portraits and
paintings (“Campbell Brothers” n.d.).
The Campbells’ “spirit” artists produced pastel and oil portraits. I
inspected examples of both with an ordinary magnifying glass and a 103
illuminated loupe and found them indistinguishable from works produced
by the human hand. Some writers claim the pictures “have no brush marks”
(Jackson 1975). That is true of the pastels which were of course done
without brushes or paints and which in fact have the characteristics of
pastel drawings (see figure 2). The oil paintings do indeed have brush
marks which may easily be found by the use of oblique light-a technique
used to enhance surface irregularities (Nickell 1999).
One of the oils is a striking 40 x 60-inch painting of Allan
Campbell’s alleged spirit guide, Azur (figure 3). It was produced on
June 15, 1898, in a single sitting lasting only an hour and a half. In a
signed statement, six witnesses (all of them apparently spiritualists,
some of them prominent) described the conditions under which the picture
was produced:
On the evening mentioned we met at the cottage of the Campbell
Brothers on the hill and proceeded to their Egyptian séance room. Across
the bay window at the end of the room was hung a large silk curtain,
where stood a small table and a canvas 40"360". Each one in turn went up
to the canvas and magnetized it by passing his hands over the surface.
We then placed whatever marks we pleased on the back, some placing
names, some numbers, some marks to suit their fancy. Mr. A. Campbell
then invited one of the circle to sit with him in the impromptu cabinet
and the silken curtain enclosing them; each member of the circle in turn
sat within the cabinet with Mr. Campbell. Every time the curtain was
withdrawn we saw the partly finished picture of Azur. During the entire
séance there was light enough for us to see everything perfectly and
note the gradual growth of the painting on the canvas. Mr. A. Campbell
was entranced and Azur, using his organism, gave us some very beautiful
words of welcome and lessons of a high order. He spoke of the stars and
their significance, which we fully realized afterwards.
After some music, additional lights were brought, the curtain
withdrawn, and lo! The picture was complete. It represented Azur with
arms uplifted as in the act of speaking and fully life size. While we
were admiring it, there came at the back of the head a six-pointed star,
which is now distinctly seen. (Prendergast et al. 1989)
One notes that the picture was only observed in stages, but how was
it done under the conditions described (assuming them to be true) and in
so short a time for a large oil painting? To begin an answer we turn to
Hereward Carrington (1920, 222) who describes the two major techniques
used for spirit paintings rendered in oils:
One method is for the medium to take an ordinary oil-painting, as
fresh as possible (so long as the oil is quite dry), and over this
lightly gum, around the edges, another piece of blank canvas, seeing to
it that it looks neat at the edges. Now, as soon as the medium is alone
in the cabinet, he carefully peels off this outside piece of canvas,
secreting it about his person, and exposing the under canvas (the one
upon which is the painting) to view. In order to produce the impression
of the painting still being wet, he quickly rubs over the painting with
poppy-oil, and there is your spirit painting!
The second method Carrington describes as a “chemical means,” but that is something of a misnomer. As he explains:
The oil-painting in this case is first varnished, and, after this is
thoroughly dry, it is covered with a solution of water and “zinc white.”
The canvas will now have the appearance of being blank, and may be
inspected. All the medium has to do, in order to restore the painting,
is to wash over the canvas with a wet sponge, when the painting will
appear as before.
In the second technique, the zinc white might be sponged off
incrementally so that the picture seems to develop in stages. And it
would be appropriately damp when brought forth (Gibson 1967). With
either method employed, the sitters’ placing their names and other
identifying marks on the back of the canvas to prevent substitution-a
common ploy of spirit-painting mediums (Gibson 1967)-was a disarming but
irrelevant act since the main canvas on which the marks were placed was
not switched.
Figure 4. Surface damage is apparent in each of the four corners of
Azur-a possible indication of trickery. (All photos by Joe Nickell)
In examining
Azur, I detected no traces of zinc white
residue that might be expected to remain. However, I did discover-in
each of the four corners-evidence of surface damage, seemingly
consistent with the first scenario Carrington described. Although
unmistakable, the damage is much less apparent to the unaided eye than
is seen in an oblique-light photograph intended to reveal it (figure 4).
In fact, the damage would no doubt generally go unnoticed, and, indeed,
I had seen the painting on previous occasions without observing it. My
eventual discovery reminds me of an exchange between Sherlock Holmes and
Inspector Gregory, in "Silver Blaze” (Doyle 1894), concerning a clue, a
“wax vesta [match], half burned”:
“I cannot think how I came to overlook it,” said the inspector with an expression of annoyance.
“It was invisible, buried in the mud [Holmes replied]. I only saw it because I was looking for it.”
“What! You expected to find it?”
“I thought it not unlikely.”
If my observation of surface damage in the four corners of
Azur
means what I think it does (no innocent, alternate explanation comes to
mind), then Allan Campbell seems to have had a blank canvas covering
the finished
Azur, lightly glued at the corners. There may
actually have been two or more overlays so that intermediate stages of
the painting could have been prepared in advance. Or there could have
been a partial rendering on the back of the blank canvas for the same
purpose (although that would have required reattachment after reversal).
Allan Campbell might even have had a brush and paints available so that
he could have produced on the overlay the first several stages of the
painting until ready to reveal the finished product. (These could have
been kept in a drawer of the “small table” referred to.)
How do we explain the star-shaped halo that afterward appeared on the
painting, as the sitters attested, “while we were admiring it?” I
suggest that the star, which is not particularly bold, was not at first
noticed. When the sitters’ attention was called to it, and they then
focused on it, they were deceived by the power of suggestion into
thinking it had spontaneously materialized.
What about the members of the circle having taken turns sitting with
the medium in the makeshift spirit cabinet (the curtained-off bay-window
area)? Would not the presence of even a single observer have precluded
trickery? Hardly. The painting may have had a covering placed over it,
which was used to conceal the removal of the (hypothesized) canvas
overlays. And Charles “Campbell” might have played an important role. It
is curious that his involvement was not described; he might, for
example, have been the first to sit with Allan Campbell, making removal
(or reversal) of one overlay a cinch. He could have sat more than once,
or one of the other sitters might have been a confederate. Again, we do
not know that a sitter was always present or that the picture advanced
to a new stage during each sitting. No doubt, whatever the actual
conditions, they were insufficiently stringent to prevent deception.
Even if I am wrong about the implications of the surface damage in
the corners, the hypothetical scenario I have sketched remains a valid
explanation, since it would be possible to attach an overlay without
such damage. (One version of the trick calls for tacks to be used to
attach the blank sheet [Gibson 1967].)
Given the evidence, the painting of “Azur”-indeed the entire body of
spirit paintings, like other physical spiritualistic phenomena-can
scarcely be taken as proof of a transcendent realm.
Notes
- Spirit photography was reportedly “discovered” by Boston
photographer William H. Mumler who noticed “extras” on recycled glass
plates from which previous images had not been entirely removed. In 1862
Mumler began producing spirit photographs for credulous sitters but was
later exposed when some of the entities were recognized as living city
residents (Nickell 1995, 31).
References
- “Campbell Brothers.” N.d. Album, Lily Dale Museum.
- Carrington, Hereward. 1920. The Physical Phenomena of Spiritualism. New York: American Universities Publishing Co., 220-223.
- Coates, James. 1911. Photographing the Invisible. N.P. [USA]: The Advanced Thought Publishing Co.
- Doyle, Arthur Conan. [1894] N.d. [1930]. “Silver Blaze” in Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, reprinted in The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Garden City, N.Y.: Garden City Books,.
- Gibson, Walter. 1967. Secrets of Magic: Ancient and Modern. New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 138-139.
- Houdini, Harry. [1924] 1972. A Magician Among the Spirits. Reprinted New York: Arno Press.
- Jackson, Dorothy. 1975. “Lily Dale-Spiritualism Center in Chautauqua
County,” unidentified clipping, dated October 1, in “Campbell Brothers”
n.d.
- Mullholland, John. [1938] 1979. Beware Familiar Spirits. Reprinted New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons.
- Nickell, Joe. 1995. Entities. Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus Books.
- Nickell, Joe, and John F. Fischer. 1999. Crime Science. Lexington, Ky.: University Press of Kentucky, 177, 178.
- Permutt, Cyril. 1988. Photographing the Spirit World. Wellingborough, England: Aquarian Press, 13-15, 22-23, 26, 29-30.
- Podmore, Frank. 1902. Modern Spiritualism. London: Methuen & Co.
- Prendergast, Emma, et al. 1898. Text given in a brochure, Spirit Painting: Azur.
Lily Dale, N.Y.: Lily Dale Historical Society, n.d. (Other signers were
Abby Louise Pettengill, M. Sage, Sidney Kelsey, F. Corden White, and
Helen White.)
- Swann, Irene. 1969. The Bangs Sisters and Their Precipitated Spirit Portraits. Chesterfield, Indiana: Camp Chesterfield.
================================
Part II: The Bangs Sisters
In addition to the Campbell “brothers” (the subject of
Part 1 in the March
Skeptical Briefs), the other major spiritualists whose mediumship produced “spirit” paintings were the Bangs sisters of Chicago.
Misses Elizabeth S. and May E. Bangs were reportedly mediums since
childhood, but their “gift” of spirit painting did not appear until the
fall of 1894 (Chesterfield 1986). They offered clairvoyance, séance
trumpet effects and spirit "materializations,” “direct” (or so-called
automatic) writing, spirit typewriting, and slate effects. But they were
most famous for their allegedly ghost-rendered paintings.
Their
business card advertised, “Life Sized Spirit Portraits a Specialty”
("Bangs Sisters” n.d.; Swann 1969). Indeed, they appear to have made
something of a racket of it, as indicated by an Associated Press story
of 1908. A woman who alleged to be the wife of a Chicago millionaire
accused May Bangs of enticing him into a bigamous relationship, the man
having been, it was claimed, “inveigled into the marriage through the
instrumentality of a ‘spirit portrait’ of his dead mother"-produced by
the Bangs sisters ("Spirit” 1908).
The Bangses were exposed as tricksters many times. For example a
minister, Rev. Stanley L. Krebs (1901) sat for one demonstration that
involved producing a “spirit” reply to a multi-paged letter that he had
been instructed to bring, sealed in an envelope. At the beginning of the
séance it was placed between two bound slates. Careful observation, and
the use of a small mirror that permitted viewing under the table,
allowed Krebs to see how the bound slates were secretly wedged apart and
the envelope dropped into Miss Bangs’s lap from whence it was
transferred to a tray on the floor and drawn under a closed door. In
time, after her accomplice/sister had done her work of steaming open the
envelope and penning a reply, the seemingly impossible effect was
completed.
The sisters used a variety of techniques for their spirit portraits.
Typically, for reasons skeptics may well imagine, “their method was to
have the sitter bring a photograph of the dead person to be painted, and
the following day the spirits would paint the portrait . . .”
(Mulholland 1938, 158). For one-day service, the photograph was
reportedly “concealed” from the sisters’ view (Swann 1969, 4), but they
may have gotten access to it much as they did the previously described
letter.
According to a booklet published at the Indiana spiritualist colony
Camp Chesterfield (where the Bangses had a cottage for a number of
years), the sisters’ earliest work involved “a locked cabinet or
curtained off space” and “several ‘sittings’ were necessary.” Later, the
“canvas” (actually a paper-mounted panel) was placed before a window
with light streaming through, and the sitter watched the picture
progress over a period of up to forty minutes or so. Still later, the
sisters were able to produce artworks in “as little as five minutes”
(Swann 1969, 3).
Reportedly, the Bangs sisters’ portraits were examined by unnamed
“art experts” who concluded they were not done in any known artistic
medium. Rather, the colored substance “could be compared to the dust on a
butterflys [sic] wings” (Swann 1969, 3). That is, the particulate
matter resembled pollen, and would thus seem consistent with a pastel
“painting” (i.e., a drawing done in pastel crayons, which consist of
pigment mixed with gum).
In fact, at Lily Dale, a spiritualist community in Western New York,
where the sisters resided for many seasons, I was able to examine two of
their “spirit” portraits that were framed and mounted under glass (as
would be expected for certain media, like watercolors or pastels, but
not others, e.g., oils). I used an illuminated 10X loupe for the
inspection. Having myself done portraits in oils, pastels, watercolors,
and numerous other media, I saw very familiar characteristics that I
could not distinguish from ordinary pastel renderings (Woolwich 1996),
including layering and blending of colors and even unmistakable crayon
strokes (as in the hair; see figure 1). Indeed, although claiming that,
for some pictures, the spirits under the Bangses’ mediumship furnished
“their own colouring matter,” one contemporary source stated that “for
the usual portraiture, coloured French pastels are placed in front of
the canvas and these are used by the spirit artists-by a process called
‘precipitation'” (Coates 1911, 294).
But how were the pictures actually produced? The evolution of their
techniques would seem consistent with deception. The early cabinet
method suggests the pictures were simply painted by the sisters out of
patrons’ view, and the latest productions (done in "five minutes”) no
doubt involved the substitution of a previously prepared picture. The
‘window’ technique is interesting, and to my knowledge the secret has
never been revealed publicly.
Explaining the technique is made difficult by the conflicting
descriptions given by credulous observers who lacked knowledge of
conjuring methods and who may have misperceived or misremembered exact
details. Some accounts insist the effect was produced “in broad
daylight” with the blank picture panel simply standing on a table before
a window, but as May Bangs herself admitted (1910), "The room is shaded
sufficiently to cause all the light from the window to pass through the
canvas.” A more detailed explanation states:
Two identical, paper-mounted canvases in wooden frames were held up,
face to face, against the window, the lower edges resting on a table and
the sides gripped by each medium with one hand. A short curtain was
hung on either side and an opaque blind was drawn over the canvases.
With the light streaming from behind[,] the canvases were translucent.
After a quarter of an hour the outlines of shadows began to appear and
disappear as if the invisible artist made a preliminary sketch, then the
picture began to grow at a feverish rate and when the frames were
separated the portrait was found on the paper surface of the canvas next
to the sitter. Though the paint was greasy and stuck to the finger on
being touched, it left no stain on the paper surface of the other canvas
which closely covered it [Fodor 1933].
The effect was reproduced by stage magicians who were probably
inspired by the Bangs sisters’ phenomenon. As described in Thayer’s
Quality Magic Catalog (1928), two canvasses were placed face to face in a frame before “a powerful light from the rear.” Then:
With the house lights off and while all eyes are intent upon the
white illuminated canvas, slowly and faintly at first, a dim shadow
appears. Gradually this shadow grows larger and becomes more distinct.
The outlines begin to take shape, colors appear, and in a few short
moments, a perfect finished picture in all its brilliancy of color is
before them.
Thayer’s catalog did not, of course, explain how the trick worked,
but-significantly-prepared “spirit” portraits were sold with the
apparatus. Whatever the secret, it may have been virtually identical to
the method used by the Bangses. One notes that, like theirs, the Thayer
method employed two canvases, and I think therein lies the crux of the
matter.
After considerable experimentation, I have found a way to produce
what seems a very similar effect. Someone witnessing it might well
write, as one of the Bangses’ clients did (Payne 1905): "At first it was
a faint shadow, then a wave appeared to sweep across the canvas, and
the likeness became plainer. It was a good deal like a sunrise-got
brighter until it was perfectly plain and every feature visible.” The
effect is of a picture seeming to slowly materialize and gradually
coming into focus. Indeed, that is just what occurs in the method I came
up with.
Briefly, here is my hypothetical reconstruction of a Bangses’
spirit-picture séance. Prior to the client entering the room, the
previously prepared picture (rolled up perhaps) is secreted in its
hiding place (for example in a drawer on the back of the table). The
sitter is invited inside, allowed to casually inspect the premises, and
invited to take a seat. The two blank panels are placed face to face,
stood up on the table, and held by a sister seated on either side. The
aforementioned short curtains are drawn to each side and the opaque
blind pulled down. The spirits are invoked, while under cover of the
drawn blind, one sister uses her free hand to extract the picture from
its hiding place and attach it to the face of the rearmost panel which
is laid on the table behind the other panel. All is now ready for the
blind to be raised.
Figure 2: Two paper panels are placed together before a window (or in
this case a light box), with a hand showing nothing else is
interjected.
Figures 3-5: In the transmitted light a "cloudiness” forms (not
shown), then colors and shapes gradually come into view; A face begins
to be recognizable and eventually becomes even sharper; Finished
portrait on one panel (shown in reflected light) is presented to sitter.
Lincoln pastel portrait and photos by author.
Light is seen streaming through the blank panel, which will function
as a sort of screen on which the seemingly materializing image will be
projected from the rear. At a suitable time, one of the sisters, using
her free hand behind the curtain, stands the picture panel upright a few
inches from the other, an action which creates a shadowy, clouded
effect upon the “screen.” Slowly, the picture panel is moved forward,
and, as it approaches the screen, colors appear, followed by a blurry
face which eventually comes into focus and is recognized. Finally, the
completed picture is revealed in full light at the end of the séance
(figures 2-5).
1
That the Bangses employed some technique such as I have hypothesized
2
is consistent with the overall scenario described in various accounts
(Coates 1911; Fodor 1933; “Bangs Sisters” n.d.).
It would certainly
explain the otherwise puzzling use of two panels: the extra one serving both as a shield to hide the portrait panel from view and as a screen on which to permit rear projection of the image. The following account is also instructive:
A few minutes after they [the face and form] began to appear, the
psychics (apparently under impression) lowered the canvas toward me
until it touched my breast. May Bangs then got a message by Morse
alphabet [supposed spirit-rappings] on the table: ‘Your wife is more
accustomed to see me in the other aspect.’ Up went the canvas again and I
saw the profile and bust, but turned round in the opposite direction;
instead of the face looking to the right, it was looking to the left.
The portrait then proceeded apace, until all the details were filled in .
. . [Moore 1910]
This is consistent with the methodology I have described, it having
been merely necessary to “flop” (reverse) the picture panel as it was
returned to its place on the table.
In some accounts the picture behind the screen seemed to be
manipulated in and out of focus. For example, one witness described how
the developing image “disappeared, but came back very soon clearer than
before” ("Bangs Sisters” n.d.) One case featured an illusion involving
“three pairs of eyes” that “showed on the canvas at once in different
poses and places” (an effect that could easily have been accomplished
with a separate sheet of paper on which the sets of eyes were rendered).
Many times the spirit-picture production ended with a very
interesting effect: the portrait’s eyes-which up to that point had been
closed-suddenly (or sometimes gradually) opened, “like a person
awakening” (Payne 1905; Coates 294-331). Now, the same effect was
actually a popular parlor diversion of the Bangses’ time (the late
nineteenth to early twentieth century) with advertising cards being
specially printed for the purpose. One for Stafford’s Ink, for instance,
depicted a little girl with closed eyes, behind which-printed on the
reverse with good registration-were a pair of heavily outlined, open
eyes. In ordinary viewing (
reflected light) the child slept, but when the card was held up to a window or lamp (i.e., viewed in
transmitted light) the open eyes became dominant and she suddenly awoke.
This effect may have been copied by the Bangs sisters, although it
would have been accomplished differently, since the portrait-side of the
finished picture would have required open eyes. Having closed eyes
behind (as on an overlay) would not seem to work, since the open eyes
(with their dark irises and pupils) would still dominate from the
beginning. There may be several ways to solve the problem: the effect
might simply have been produced by tipping the picture forward so that
the eyes were brought into focus, coupled with the power of suggestion;
or the finished, open eyes might actually have been drawn in, in a final
stage, under some pretext of pulling down the opaque blind; or by some
other method. (For example it is possible to have a removable, opaque
material applied on the back to the area behind the eyes so that, in
transmitted light, there appear deep, shaded sockets, but when the
material is peeled off the eyes open.) In any event one sitter did
report that, before opening, the eyes of the spirit portrait were
”indistinct and apparently closed” (emphasis added; Holland 1909).
Although, as indicated earlier, the Bangs sisters may not always have
received a photograph of the deceased subject in advance of the séance,
they could nevertheless proceed once they gained access (by some
subterfuge) to the photo. One sister could then go off to produce the
portrait while the other kept the patron distracted. For example, one
wrote:
Entering the seance-room, and finding only three canvases, I selected
two of them, took them out in the sunlight, in company with one of the
Miss Bangs, exposed them for fifteen minutes to the strong rays of the
noonday sun, examined the surface thoroughly to fully assure myself that
they were not chemically prepared, at the same time to secretly mark
them for identification.
Subsequently the identification marks would show that the "canvas”
had not been switched (Thurston 1910). (If the panel was not marked-most
accounts omit that detail-the procedure is simplified, since the
portrait can be prepared on a panel that is switched for one of the
selected ones, eliminating the need to surreptitiously affix the picture
to a panel during the séance.)
One incident is particularly revealing: A couple who had sought a
picture of their deceased son concluded that the resulting image
resembled him only
“in a general way” and “was not even a fairly good
portrait.” In rationalizing the failure, one writer pointed out (perhaps
more wisely than he knew) that the couple
“had no photograph of their
departed son with them” (Coates 1911, 325). Thus the Bangs sisters were
apparently left with few options. They could fish for a description (in
the manner of a police artist eliciting an eyewitness’s recollection) or
opt to produce a generalized child’s portrait which the credulous
couple might accept. In contrast, when a photograph had been brought to
the sitting, the “spirit” painting might be pronounced
“a perfect
enlargement of the original . . .” ("Bangs Sisters” n.d.). Whatever
techniques the sisters actually employed - and May Bangs (1910)
acknowledged that
“No two sittings” were “exactly alike” - they were
obviously effective, given the many testimonials they elicited.
Significantly, as
physical mediumship has largely given way to
mental
phenomena (witness the rise of mediums like James Van Praagh who limit
themselves to readings [Nickell 1998]), "spirit” paintings have all but
disappeared. A few historic examples remain as reminders of an earlier,
though not necessarily more credulous, time.
Acknowledgments
I am most grateful to Joyce LaJudice of the Lily Dale Museum, Lily
Dale, New York, for her generous assistance in providing information on
the Campbell “brothers” (
Part I) and the Bangs sisters (Part II).
Thanks are also due several Center for Inquiry staff members for help
in various ways, particularly watching numerous experimental attempts
to reproduce the Bangs sisters’ effects: Ben Radford, Tom Flynn, and
others-including Tim Binga and Ranjit Sandhu, who also provided research
assistance.
Notes
- If it is true, as earlier stated, that the picture seemingly
appeared on the “canvas” nearest the sitter, all that would have been
needed was for the pair of panels to have been casually reversed as they
were taken down from the frame and carried to the sitter.
- I have wondered whether the Bangses might have produced a picture in
“real time,” working on the rearmost panel (reversed for the purpose)
while the sitter viewed the progress. Such a scenario (too lengthy to
detail here) would present many difficulties, and one would think even a
credulous sitter would catch on. But it might still be possible.
References
- Bangs, May. 1910. Letter dated 17 September, quoted in Coates 1911, 294.
- “Bangs Sisters.” N.d. Album of clippings, photos, business card, etc., in Lily Dale Museum.
- Chesterfield Lives. 1986. Chesterfield, Indiana: Camp Chesterfield.
- Coates, James. 1911. Photographing the Invisible. N.p. [USA]: The Advanced Thought Publishing Co., 292-336.
- Fodor, Nandor. 1933. Encyclopedia of Psychic Science. London: Arthurs Press, s.v. “Bangs Sisters,” 27-28.
- Holland, George C. 1909. Quoted in Coates 1911, 325.
- Krebs, Stanley L. 1901. A description of some trick methods used by
Miss Bangs, of Chicago. Journal of Society for Psychical Research 10.175
(January): 5-16.
- Moore, W. Usborne. 1910. Quoted in Coates 1911, 298-299.
- Mulholland, John. 1938. Beware Familiar Spirits. Reprinted New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1979.
- Nickell, Joe. 1998. Investigating spirit communications, Skeptical Briefs, September, 5-6.
- Payne, John W. 1905. Quoted in Coates 1911, 295-296.
- “Spirit Portrait” of his dead mother. 1908. The Buffalo Evening Times (Buffalo, N.Y.), January 8.
- Swann, Irene. 1969. The Bangs Sisters and Their Precipitated Spirit Portraits. Chesterfield, Indiana: Camp Chesterfield.
- Thayer Magic Mfg. Co. 1928. Quality Magic Catalog No. 7. Los
Angeles. Two pages describing the spirit-painting effect are reproduced
in William Doerflinger, The Magic Catalog (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1977), 196-197.
- Thurston, Dr. and Mrs. H.E. 1910. Quoted in Coates 1911, 322-324.
- Woolwich, Madlyn-Ann C. 1996. The Art of Pastel Portraiture. New York: Watson-Guptill.
Joe Nickell
Joe
Nickell, Ph.D., is Senior Research Fellow of the Committee for
Skeptical Inquiry (CSI) and "Investigative Files" Columnist for
Skeptical Inquirer. A former stage magician, private investigator, and teacher, he is author of numerous books, including
Inquest on the Shroud of Turin (1998),
Pen, Ink and Evidence (2003),
Unsolved History (2005) and
Adventures in Paranormal Investigation (2007). He has appeared in many television documentaries and has been profiled in
The New Yorker and on NBC's
Today Show. His personal website is at
joenickell.com.
http://www.csicop.org/sb/show/spirit_painting_2
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