Friday, April 24, 2026

this weekend / public slide presentation on camouflage

On Sunday April 26 at 2 pm, I will be speaking at the English Valleys History Center at 108 North Main in North English IA. It's free and open to the public. IOWA'S CAMOUFLAGE EXPERTS is a 60-minute slide talk about Iowa artists, designers, scientist and others who served as camouflage advisors during both world wars, especially during WWI. An informal, fast-paced presentation, enriched by scores of rare historic photographs and other image artifacts. Shown here are three of the slides from the program.

Tuesday, April 21, 2026

like a circus / weird triangles and lines over the hulls

Above
Cover illustration by C. McKnight Smith for Scientific American, October 26, 1918.

•••

Robert H. Ferrell, Woodrow Wilson and World War I, 1917-1921. New York: Harper and Row, 1985, p. 35—

Having [to] resort to lookouts only when searching for victims, the U-boats [German submarines] enjoyed the advantage of a thin silhouette. Moreover, the U-boat lookout could see the masts of a steamer as far as fifteen miles whereas the steamer’s lookout could discern the sub only at four. The Allies camouflaged their ships by painting weird triangles and lines over the hulls, lending a circus aspect to every harbor.

Saturday, April 11, 2026

Grant Wood's camouflage service during World War I

WWI French artillery camouflage
It is by now common knowledge that when Iowa artist Grant Wood served in the US Army during World War I, he was assigned to field camouflage. When someone contacted me recently to ask what I might know about that, I replied that the best source might be Darrell Garwood's biography titled Artist in Iowa: A Life of Grant Wood (New York: Norton, 1944). Wood's involvement in camouflage is mentioned in other biographies as well, but they tend to be brief and less than strictly factual.

Here's what Garwood's biography says—

Since his [Wood's] mother and sister were dependent on him, he had been placed in Class 3C in the draft and was passed over in the first draft call in September. Later, other family arrangements were made for the very little money Mrs. Wood needed to keep house, and Grant enlisted as a private in the army. He was sent to Camp Dodge, outside Des Moines, where he spent a good part of his training period making pencil portraits of his comrades and officers. He charged privates twenty-five cents and officers one dollar for the portraits—at least these were his prices when anyone offered to pay him. He didn't ask for payment, and the officer didn't think to offer it, when he made a portrait of his company commander, Captain George E. Proud.

Captain Proud was getting ready to go into town when a sergeant came in to say there was a man outside who wanted to make a sketch of him. The captain was in a hurry, but told the sergeant to bring him in. It didn't take Grant more than ten or fifteen minutes to make the sketch. Proud scarcely looked at it at the time, and afterward didn't remember Grant's name; he only remembered that Grant had said he was a mural painter. When he was back practicing law at Arapahoe, Nebraska, however, Proud found the sketch among his things, liked it and had it framed. It hung on his office wall for fifteen years before someone happened to notice it was a Grant Wood portrait.

Grant's stay at Camp Dodge promised to be pleasant. He was excused from the more onerous military duties, given a sidecar motorcycle, and told to go about making historic records. Then he contracted anthrax, and nearly died. When he recovered, he was sent to Washington to do camouflage work. He served as a private in Company B, Regiment 97, United States Engineers, and was in charge of the paint tent. He made clay models of field gun positions and helped camouflage artillery pieces. Before-and-after photographs of a cannon he helped camouflage were on display for several years at the Smithsonian Institution.

He was still in Washington when the war ended, and was transferred back to Camp Dodge. He arrived home on Christmas Eve, 1918.…


Like Norman Rockwell and other artists who served in the military, Wood was often asked (or offered) to make portraits of his fellow soldiers, including officers. The Nebraska attorney who was Wood's company commander was George C. Proud, not George E. Proud. Other artists in the infantry (Walt Disney being one) were able to earn extra money by painting camouflage or other designs on the helmets of other soldiers.

It’s interesting that in Wood’s WWI draft registration, he lists himself as a "contractor and builder” not as an artist. After regaining his health at Camp Dodge, he was presumably transferred to Camp American University in Washington DC, where, as Garwood notes, he camouflaged artillery (field guns or cannon).

A different Wood biography claims that he painted the artillery for the purposes of making it "blend in" with its surroundings. But that may be misleading, since by 1918 it was common practice to camouflage nearly anything not by blending but by applying “disruptive” (high difference) patterns. The goal was less to blend in than to break apart the shape, making it harder to see as a “thing.”  

Some of these guns were genuine functioning cannon, while others may have been non-firing dummies, made of logs and wagon wheels (known as Quaker guns), that looked like cannon from the air, and were used to divert enemy fire. These might also be camouflaged, to make them more convincing. By that time in the war, when field guns were manufactured in the US, the disruptive camouflage patterns (all the same) were automatically applied at the factory during production, so it is somewhat surprising that the patterns would have to be painted.

WWI camouflage applied during production process



The war ended before Wood was sent overseas. He was never stationed in Europe. Two artists who served with him as camoufleurs were Orrin White and Charles P. Killgore, with whom (long after the war) he later exhibited artwork at Younkers in Des Moines. See details here.

It seems to me that all of this misses the point somewhat of Wood's connection to camouflage. The most important convergence is that camouflage relies on the same "grouping principles" that artists and designers use. I've explained all this in an online video talk.


•••

Anon, in ART CIRCLES, in Long Beach Independent (Long Beach CA), March 27, 1949, p. 10—

[A retired oil-field worker turned artist Carl R. Walline’s] interest in painting dates back to the first world war, when he drummed up a lively business on a returning troop ship painting camouflage on the helmets of soldiers at a dollar a helmet.

With this leftover camouflage paint he did his first landscape.

Thursday, April 9, 2026

Shoeless Joe Jackson was a ship camouflage painter

Shoeless Joe
JACKSON DOING BIT BY PAINTING SHIPS: FORMER WHITE SOX OUTFIELDER OBTAINS POSITION IN SHIPYARD: Not Only Man in Baseball Who Discovers He Could Better Be Employed Elsewhere Than on the Firing Line
in The Postville Review (Postville IA) no date, 1918—

Joe Jackson, until recently of the White Sox ball team, besides possessing extraordinary athletic talents, is a man of unusual physical development. Presumably he would make an excellent fighting man. But it appears that Mr. Jackson would prefer not to fight.

The facts seem to be that Jackson was about to be drafted into the army, whereupon be obtained a position in an eastern shipyard. He is said to be doing his part to beat the Huns by painting ships. Whether this work is camouflage—we refer to the methods of painting—has not been announced.

Jackson is not the only man in professional baseball who has discovered special gifts that apparently could be employed to special advantage elsewhere outside the firing line. It is to be hoped that the American public will keep these men in mind. We need shipbuilders to win the war, but when a man on the eve of being drafted into the army suddenly finds that he can best serve the nation by painting ships, good Americans will not be very enthusiastic over seeing him play baseball after the war is over. The special gifts that disqualify him for the army will likewise disqualify him for special popularity in the great American game.

A word of praise should be said for those ball players who have entered the military forces. They will undoubtedly make a good record, and it is these men in particular that we shall want to see back on the diamond.

Friday, April 3, 2026

oddly festooned cubist quilts / dazzling pictorial archive

THE BRADFORD ERA
(Bradford PA), April 5, 1918, p. 2—

The stanchest upholders of the academic in art can scarcely carry their opposition to cubism into its new field as a basis for ship camouflage. It has been evident, for some time, to people living near Atlantic ports, that cubism had been pitched upon as the most valuable system of reducing the visibility of ocean liners. The seemingly systemless way in which greens, blues, grays, and pinks are painted on in bands and blocks of color has quite puzzled persons who have gained close views of these ships; but at a distance of a mile, another story is told, for the various masses of color set up a curious and disconcerting dazzling effect. Painting with gray has been largely superseded by the new method, which escapes the silhouette effect that too often betrayed the gray ships.

a cubist romance / 'mong the cubes i'd love to ramble

Above
 Cubism predated WWI French Army camouflage, more or less. This still image is from Rigadin painter cubist [Rigadin the Cubist Painter] a film by Georges Monca (1912), Pathé. See online detail

•••

All Aboard, a musical comedy that opened June 5, 1913 at Lew Fields' 44th Street Roof Garden in New York, as reviewed in The Sun, July 27, 1913, p. 12—

It is Ralph Riggs and his wife Katherine Witchie, who do the Cubist dance. The scene is in a studio of a Cubist and a Futurist painter and the lyrics of the song are as follows:

Said the Futurist boy to the Cubist girl

As they met on a poster blue:

"I don't know who the dickens I am—

and who in the deuce are you?"

Said the Cubist girl to the Futurist boy:

"We both were born, I think,

On a dark and dismal night last week

When the cat tipped over the ink."

Said the girl, "You must agree

We're awful sights to see."

Said the boy, "You seem to be

The girl that's made for me."

CHORUS

Oh, you Cubist girl, in cubes that curl

You little, wiggy-waggy, riggy-raggy,

ziggy-zaggy maid—

Picture puzzle queen,

From what I've seen

I think my style will suit you.

In the future when I'm painted

in every shade, like a crazy quilt,

although you're built,

to find you in the scramble

'Mong the cubes I'd love to ramble

A while some future day you'll be

My jumble ju-ju bee

My riggy-raggy,

Ziggy-zaggy,

Cubist girl.

Tuesday, March 31, 2026

in the process of applying ship camouflage during WWI

Above
There are few photographs of World War I ship camouflage (maybe a dozen or fewer) in the process of being applied. This one may have been published only once, when it appeared in the Boston Sunday Post, August 18, 1918. The headline read BEHOLD THE CAMOUFLAGE, while the caption was worded as follows—

Here is a picture of our Jackies [sailors] helping to make a ship look like what it ain't. All it takes is a couple of mattresses, a few buckets of paint, and a few sweeps of the brush, and you have the perfectly camouflaged ship.

Camouflage, as you may possibly know, is the science of artistic concealment, and the patterns used are preferably cubistic or futuristic, as these are those which conceal the art most perfectly.

Saturday, March 28, 2026

no more spit and polish / WWI trench mud in your eye

Above Rawley Morgan, "Our Involuntary Disguises" in The London Bystander, March 20, 1918, p, 613.

•••

CAMOUFLAGE TOPIC OF PRESIDIO TALK: Commonest Instance Cited as Clove Eaten by Men Who Go Out Between Acts; MUD HANDIEST IN TRENCH; Captain Gillette Illustrates Fine Points for Student Officers Showing How Shading Is of Great Importance in The Sunday Oregonian (Portland), November 11, 1917, p. 3—

OFFICERS TRAINING CAMP, Presidio of San Francisco, Nov. 10: "Camouflage—a spice known as the clove, largely consumed by men who leave the theater between acts to go and use the telephone."

This is one domestic description of the word camouflage, but it isn't quite the camouflage that is taught for war purposes. The chief ingredients of the camouflage of war, with all due respect to the words of well-known war correspondents like Will Irwin and others, is not paint and artistic ability, but just plain, ordinary mud.

At least such is the declaration of Captain Douglas H. Gillette, Engineer Corps, who recently gave a lecture to the Presidio "officers-to-be" on the subject of camouflage.

Paint is a scarce commodity at the front, and the same is true of burlap and canvas, and when these ingredients are absent the soldier boys find it very easy to do a good camouflaging job by smearing the mud—same mud that is used on football fields in Oregon—over the spokes and caissons of artillery material and otherwise disguising military secrets from the enemy aircraft and other observers.

"It is important, remarked Captain Gillette, "to conceal the heads of the men firing from the trenches."

Trenches Are Obliterated
"There are two ways to conceal heads, and the one chiefly recommended is to obliterate the line of the trenches as much as possible. Daubing the head in mud or dust sounds better to a great many of the student officers, however, for once a man has lost his head his efficiency is greatly curtailed, whereas it is ofttimes possible to recuperate after the loss of a mere trench.

"All camouflage is based on the idea of fooling the enemy by making it appear that what is, is not, and what is not, is. It may apply to a single man or gun or to an entire position. The art is new, but It has been used so extensively that the supply of raffia, from which screens. were made, is exhausted, and they have to use shredded palmetto leaves and Florida moss.

Outlines Broken Up
"If it is sought to hide a battery, the best plan is to break up its outline so it cannot be recognized by enemy airplanes. If a scout is looking for a gun and sees something that looks like a cow he is not likely to boast that he has attained the object of his search. It is a fact that objects are recognized by their shape more than by anything else.

"Things should always be painted dark on top and light below; that is to make shadows look natural. For the same reason painted canvas is sloped at an angle of at least 30 degrees over raised objects. A painted pattern should never be stopped at an edge; it should extend around the corner. Dull colors are best, usually.

"One school of camouflage artists holds that the best way to reduce the visibility of material is by making it look like straw—if it happens to be in a locality where there is straw—or by disguising it as bushes. If there are three or four guns at regular intervals bushes should extend from one to the other; four piles of bushes 30 to 40 feet from each other might enable an airplane scout to penetrate the disguise.

Mud Used Profusely
"Spokes and rims of gun carriages should be spotted with mud. The spots should be irregular and large, as small spots are likely to attract attention. Positions or material may be concealed
by painted canvas or burlap, raffia or wire net, or canvas over wire net. With a bucket of paint and a brush the simplest form of camouflage, painting, may be achieved.

"The armies have taken full advantage of the qualities of wire net. Sometimes miles and miles of road leading to the rear are covered with the net, through which enemy airplanes can see nothing. At times the net extends along the sides of the road.

"When an airplane appears it is a matter of duty and policy for everyone to hide or remain perfectly still. Cartridge cases must never be placed in large piles in these days of scientific war, for the sunlight reflected from their surfaces gives the enemy a guide."

Four Thousand Germans Killed
Captain Gillette points out tho value of concealing even the frontline trenches by a story of a battalion that concealed its position, and, by waiting until the Germans had advanced to within 50 yards of its trench, killed 4000 of the enemy before retreat was possible. The exact line of the parapet should be confusing to the enemy. If it is not, the position may be sighted during the day and heavy damage may be inflicted at night.

Even the entanglements in No Man's Land feel the force of the camouflage idea. Captain Gillette can't understand why they use galvanized wire, which is highly visible and more ex- pensive than that which has not been galvanized. Because wood is more visible than iron, posts that support the wire are of iron.

Friday, March 27, 2026

styx and stones / on the trojan horse and camouflage

Several Miles Longer than the Statue of Liberty / artist unknown

John Kendrick Bangs
, AT THE HOUSE BOAT ON THE STYX—In the Matter of Camouflage in the Sunday Oregonian (Portland OR), March 24, 1918, p. 1ff—

The most interesting thing to me about this row that is going on on the other side of the river," said Michael Angelo, as he sculpted the Kaiser's head out of his camembert and tossed it to Dick Whitington's cat, "is the business of camouflage, and proud as I am of my own achievement along lines of art I take off my hat to these French and American artists who can kalsomine a fleet of 46 battleships so that it looks like a strawberry shortcake floating on the surface of the ocean a mile away, and so titivate a battle front with colored chalk and gew-gaws that to the eye of a German spy it appears to be nothing more than a row of peace-loving Charlotte roosters greeting the dawn with a song."

"O, I don't know, Mike," said Savonarola, who happened to be lunching at the club that day, having wearied of his third consecutive eatless week. "] wouldn't wear out the brim of my hat taking it off to those chaps if I were you. They didn't invent camouflage. It is as old as the everlasting hills, and I don't know that your modern camouflagers had anything on some of our first families of Italy when it came to flagging an enemy in the good old days of long ago. You were no piker in the camouflage line yourself, Mickey, dear."

"What, I?" said Michael Angelo, apparently very much surprised.

"Si, Signor—sure pop," said Savanarola. "I have known you to take a piece of plain, common garden, kiln-dried brick that was so poor in quality that it couldn't even be used on a government contract in Russia, and as raucously red as a New Jersey mudbank, and with a few deft strokes of your brush turn It into a baby-blue masterpiece that an American squillionaire would pay $945,429.2s for it at an auction sale. You know that as well as I do, and then look at Lucrezia Borgia—"

"Lucrezia Borgia?" echoed Michael Angelo. "O, come now, Savvy, what in all cimmeria had Lucrezia Borgia to do with camouflage?"

"She was a pippin at it, that's what," returned Savonarola. "Camouflage was that lady's long suit."

"Well, I never knew that before," laughed Michael Angelo. "As I recall Lucrezia's record she ran a sort of deluxe delicatessen shop for people who were tired of life."

"Ask Leonardo da Vinci if I am not right," persisted Savonarola. "How about it, Len?"

"You can search me, Savvy," smiled da Vinci. "Now you've got it you'd better keep the floor yourself."

"O, "tutt!" retorted Savonarola. "I thought you chaps had some brains. Why my dearly beloved Bambini, if Lucrezia Borgia wasn't queen of the May in the line of pure camouflage, I'm blest if I know what else you'd call her. Did you ever see one of her Welsh rabbits?"

"I've heard of them," said da Vinci. *but I never ate one. Fact is, I made it a rule never to eat anything at any of the Borgia chafing dish parties, just as I always wore hole-proof BVDs when I attended a reception at the Medicis. Safety first is my motto."

"Sure," said Savonarola, *and that's just my point. Those Welsh rabbits of Lucrezia's were pure camouflage.

Michael Angelo laughed.

"O, I see." said he, "you're thinking of camambert. Savvy. We were talking of camouflage. Camouflage Isn't cheese, you know."

"I know what camouflage is just as well as you do," retorted Savonarola, reddening angrily. "And when I say that Lucrezia's Welsh rabbits were pure camouflage, I mean it. They appeared to be one thing when in reality they were another. On the surface they were the most innocent looking little bits of golden sunshine that ever gloried a piece of toast. To look at 'em you'd say that as symbols of peaceful innocence they had the dove lashed to the everlasting mast—but underneath! Lago di Garda, Mike, they were seething maelstroms of destruction, and the man or woman Lucrezia wanted permanently removed from the social register after they had eaten a half-portion of a Borgia-made golden buck had about as much chance of getting home alive as they'd have if they'd swallowed a drugstore. Socrates' Hemlock cocktail was as buttermilk alongside of one of the fair Lucrezia's Loganberry flips."

"I hadn't thought of it in that light but I see your point," said Michael Angelo, "and while I deprecate Lucrezia's fondness for getting her guests fed up on cyanide of potassium, and other indelicacies, I am glad if Italy may lay claim to the paternity of the wonderful art we are discussing."

"Italy, nothing!" interjected Shakespeare. *I guess you never read my play of Macbeth, Mike?"

"Ah?" laughed Michael Angelo. "Another bit of dramatic camouflage I suspect, my beloved Bard—ostensibly Shakespeare, but underneath a mere side of bacon. That it, Billious?"

"O," said Shakespeare amiably, "I'm perfectly satisfied to let that matter rest just where it stands. I'm beginning to believe from the way my works are being attributed to everybody but me that even at that I was the most distinguished person of my time, since I seem to be the only guy then living who didn't write 'em. But the point I wanted to make was that whoever it was that wrote my play of Macbeth, he foresaw this whole business of camouflage when he disguised Macbeth's enemies as a picnic grove, so that when Macbeth saw what he thought was Birnam Wood marching on towards him with a real Sousa swing, it gave him an attack of the Willies that left him as full of pep in the hands of MacDuff as a Bolshevik in the presence of a German peace soliloquy. Don't you remember the line—'As I did stand my watch upon the hill I looked toward Birnam, and anon methought the wood began to move!'"

"Never heard 'em before, Bill, but it I say they're there I'll take your word for it," replied Michael Angelo. "It only goes to prove my point that after all art is the original knockout. Whether it was invented by you with your peripatetic picnic park or Lucrezia Borgia with her cunning little rabbits so disengaging in their habits that started it, camouflage was some discovery."

"It went further back than you imagine," put in Priam sadly, spreading a thick layer of horse radish on his toast. "It may have done a lot for MacDuff, but I want to tell you right now, boys, it ruined me. I had the nicest little kingdom in the world up around Troy. It had Seattle and Oklahoma City and all the rest of your marvels of modern growth backed off the map. We were all happy and prosperous until that fool son of mine, Paris, awarded the blue ribbon for beauty to Venus, and thereby knocked us all galley-west. That decision made certain other leading ladies of the Olympian Sorosis so immortally mad that they sicked the Greeks on me at a time when preparedness was my short suit. But even at that they had to use camouflage to put me on the mat. We had 'em beaten to a frazzle, when some wizard on the Greek side got the big idea. He induced Agamemnon to holler for peace, and as a token of Greek sincerity instead of handing me a loving cup they made me a present of a horse several miles longer than the Statue of Liberty. You know the rest. That old cob looked like a midway stunt at a World's Fair, and while I didn't want the darn thing any more than London wants Barnard's statue of Lincoln. thought it would please the children and took it."

"And then what?" roared Wat Tyler.

"Then what?" roared Priam. "Do you mean to tell me you never heard of the Trojan horse?"

"No." said Tyler. "I never studied mathematics."

"Well. it was a horse on me, all right!" said Priam moodily: "It was built of wood and stucco, and was about the size of Billy Sunday's tabernacles. It was mounted on wheels and rolled into our Central Park by the Greek peace delegation and formally accepted by my Royal Highness as a token of Agamemnon's love. We made a great festival of the occasion. All the schools were closed for the day and the leading Nestors and Chauncey Depewsters of the time delivered addresses on the 'Era of Good Feeling' and 'The End of the War and The Overthrow of Mars,' and so on, from every angle of that old nag, and then when, as a grand climacteric, I climbed up the old hack's neck and planted a Trojan flag in one ear and a Greek flag in the other, while the band played 'There Are No Pals Like the Old pals,' the populace yelled themselves to exhaustion with joy. Like a Bolshevik boob on a Potsdam payroll, I ordered the army demobilized and went to bed happy. And then—"

Priam wept bitter tears.

"And then the camouflage got in its fine work," he resumed, nerving himself up with a long, deep draft of Worcestershire sauce. *That old horse wasn't a horse at all. It was a cantonment! Instead of being a mere bit of equine pleasantry it turned out to be a division of Rough Riders, only they rode inside the horse instead of on his back. The horrible beast held the whole Greek general staff, 15 brigades of discus throwers, seven regiments of natural gasoliers armed to the teeth with the fiercest kind of Greek propaganda, and a highly efficient fire department that for making things burn to an ash beat anything in that line in all history. They started the home fires burning and kept 'em going to the last flicker of the ultimate ember. In short, Wat, while I slept, dreaming sweet dreams of peace, those Greeks inside shinned down that old jade's hind legs and when I waked up in the morning Troy was a flickering reminiscence."

"It was a great piece of strategy," said Achilles proudly.

"It was a low-down Dutch trick!" retorted Priam angrily. "But much as I have always regretted it, two good things came out of it. It inspired Virgil to write a great poem and it showed you up for what you were—jealous, sulky when you couldn't have your own way and brave only because you thought you had an armor-plated hide that not even criticism could puncture, and shot in the heel at the last! Shot in the heel, sir—just keep your mind on that."

"What's that got to do with it?" growled Achilles.

"Well, to me," returned Priam, "it proves your great reputation as a warrior to have been mere press agent stuff. In other words, Achilles, no man ever gets shot in the heel running towards the enemy."

Achilles sprang to his feet and would doubtless have made short work of the aged Priam had it not been for the prompt action of William Penn, who, like a true Quaker, desiring only peace, grabbed the belligerent warriors by the neck, and, throwing Priam into one corner and Achilles Into another, smilingly remarked:

"Come, come, gentlemen! Thee must not introduce rough stuff into hades!"

"Well, I don't like his reflections on my courage," said Achilles. "He will take them back. will thee not, brother?" said Penn, with so menacing a glance at Priam that the Trojan immediately acquiesced.

"Sure!" he said. "Indeed I'll go further," he added tremulously. "Achilles was one of the bravest men that ever honked his way to fame. The fact is, you know, that whenever I think of that game his people put on me I see red, and say a lot of things I don't really mean. You were a brave old lad, Achilles, so brave that you forgot to protect your rear, and besides there are times when running away is the highest type of courage."

"Well," said Homer, who had been a yawning listener to the discussion, "you're all off in thinking the Trojan horse was the beginning of camouflage, for as a matter of fact for centuries before the Trojan trick was pulled off camouflage had been a favorite pastime on high Olympus. Those old gods up there took to camouflage like a pacifist to grape juice. Even Jupiter himself went into it to an extent that kept his domestic entourage in a constant state of turmoil. Indeed the only constant thing about Jupiter was the state of turmoil in which his camouflage behavior kept him. He was the prize camouflage of the ages. There was a good deal of the Brigham Young about Jupiter, but Juno was so jealous, Brigham Young's tactics wouldn't work. Jupiter couldn't marry every woman in sight after the Brigham method of wedding every girl's boarding school that happened to look like the only woman he had ever loved, and get away with it. Juno was strong on woman's rights, and so Jupiter had to resort to camouflage. Whenever he met a lady that he thought he could support in the style to which she was accustomed, he called his secretary of the exterior and had himself camouflaged so his own mother wouldn't know him. One day he'd rig himself up as a swan, and paddle gracefully along the skyline of the lady whose eye he wished to catch, knowing full well the feminine weakness for the cold bird. Another day he'd make himself up to resemble ready-money, and sprinkle himself over the fair one's horizon like a gold reserve on a spree. Another time he would stroll by looking for all the world like a quiet little woolly lamb, and some pretty little sheperdess he'd taken a fancy to would scratch his nose for him, and feed him nice fresh cauliflower with her Dresden China fingers, and so on. I guess Jupiter had the Kaiser beaten 70 ways for Sunday with his camouflage clothes, and the calm, nonchalant way in which he fooled the ladies of the Hoi Poloi was a caution to militant suffragettes. Savonarola was right when he said camouflage was old as the hills. Noah probably, thought Ararat was a sea-beach, until he found his old scow stranded on top of a mountain. Eve doubtless thought the serpent was a gentleman, and discovered later that he was a snake. Life is full of it. That things are seldom what they seem, the sages have told us for myriads of years. Art is eternal, and eternity works both ways, fore and aft. We have always had camouflage and we'll continue to have it to the end."

Eve Doubtless Thought the Serpent was a Gentleman




"Ubetcha!" said Socrates. "And what I am glad about is that over in France they are fighting fire with fire today. If there is anything that can beat camouflage it is camouflage itself."

"The point of which wise remark is just what?" queried Solomon. "Just this," replied Socrates. "They are using camouflage to down kultur, which is the most insidious bit of camouflage yet developed by Satan to befool the human race. Pretending to make men free, its real intent is to forever enslave them. Pretending to elevate a people to the heights of spiritual greatness it has debased them to the level of brutish savagery. Claiming to be a blessing it has turned out to be the blackest curse that has ever afflicted the human race. Promising Its followers heaven it has loosed hell Itself upon them.

"Solomon leapt to his feet, his face flaming with enthusiasm.

"Sock, old man," he cried, holding out his hand, "put it there! By every George and Jove in history, my boy, you've said something at last!"

And the members of the Associate Shades rose and cheered until the very reel of the House Boat on the Styx shook with the reverberance, for even in the realm of the shadows kultur knows no brother.

Saturday, March 21, 2026

ship builders' union dazzle ship as WWI parade float

A long time ago—can it really have been nine years ago?—we blogged about the use of large scale models of dazzle-camouflaged ships as parade floats. It appears that they were constructed and sponsored by various ship builders' unions, and were part of patriotic celebrations, such as the Fourth of July. In our blog posts in 2017, we featured photographs from parades in New York.

More recently we've also found an example of a dazzle ship float from a parade that took place in Detroit that was featured in a Peace Parade in Detroit on November 28, 1918. Shown above is a restored, AI colorized version (the color may not be literally accurate) of a vintage photograph of the event. An original black and white version (it predated color photography) is in the Burton Historical Collection at the Detroit Public Library.

Monday, March 16, 2026

marvelous designs and colors calculated to confuse

Above
Just when we think we've found everything, suddenly something new appears. The images above and below were made by British artist Frank H. Mason as illustrations for Stephen King-Hall, The Diary of a U-boat Commander. London: Hutchinson and Company, 1920. I have no idea of the book's veracity; in one library record, for example, it is classified as "fiction."

•••

Kaleidoscope of Ships: Camouflage in Eastern Harbors Look Like Futurist Nightmare in Journal and Tribune (Knoxville TN), March 8, 1918—

If some ancient mariner were to return to one of our eastern ports these days he would think the shipping world had gone mad. The submarine has called forth the camouflage artist, and the camouflage artist has painted our trans-Atlantic vessels with bizarre designs in all colors of the rainbow.

Imaginative writers used to dwell on the kaleidoscope of shipping in great harbors like New York. The term is thoroughly applicable today, for our harbors are as colorful as operatic pageants. Half of some great ship will be painted a delicate baby blue and the other half will be an arrangement in great circles and stripes and bands in black, green, yellow and pink. Another vessel will appear dressed in a succession of waving colors ranging from pink to purple. A steamship no longer resembles a steamship. It looks like a futurist nightmare.

There are two rival schools of marine camouflage. One works on the theory of low visibility and the other one strives for what is called the dazzle effect. The low visibility camoufleurs paint the ships in waving lines with the basic light ray tones—reds and greens and violets—with the idea of having the vessels merge with the atmosphere and disappear. The dazzle school goes in for a system of marvelous designs and colors calculated to confuse the aim of enemy gunners.

Even our battle ships have succumbed to the lure of strange pigmentation. The sober "fighting gray" battle ship color is a thing of the past. Our fighting craft go to their grim business in the war zone made up like [the] Russian ballet.—Independent.