Showing posts with label disruption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disruption. Show all posts

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.


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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.

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.

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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.


Wednesday, March 4, 2026

warships resemble chameleons / are nearly invisible

available online
Anon, CHAMELEON WARSHIPS. Question of Color. The Worker (Brisbane, Queensland, Australia), June 8, 1916, p. 15—

Persons who have been watching the results of attempts to disguise the outward appearance of warships have become convinced (says the Coast Seaman's Journal) that the destroyer fleet, lately the subject of the ship painter's efforts, has become practically invisible at sea, not only to the naked eye, but to strong binoculars as well. "Battleship gray" has had its day. It was better than the glaring ultra-prominent white that once made the American Navy the marksman's favorite target, but it was far from the last word in invisibility, for it has recently been proved that:

A solid color of any kind can be distinguished at sea, whereas a mottled surface, like the surrounding water itself, breaking up into lights and shades, will make almost any bulk invisible at a distance proportionate to size. Abbott H. Thayer, an Englishman [sic], who studied the colorations of wild animals, and particularly water-fowl, noting at what distance their color enabled them to become invisible to the naked eye and under glass, and who is said to have taught Theodore Roosevelt much that he knows on the subject of invisible animals, is largely responsible for the Navy's taking up the problem. Thayer conducted a series of experiments in the Navy Department a year ago and demonstrated that under certain conditions the model of a torpedo-boat painted by him could not be seen while a similar vessel painted battle-gray was plainly visible.




At Newport the destroyers have been painted in numerous ways to test their visibility. Some of them have been painted like checker-boards, in alternate squares of black and white, but the most elusive combination discovered to date consists of horizontal, irregular, serpentine lines of black paint along the sides of the destroyers with a background of battle-gray. The serpentine curves correspond substantially to the waves of the sea, and the mixed colors conform in part to the mottled surface of the water. The funnels, on the other hand, are painted in irregular spirals, and it is said the destroyers painted in this way are more nearly invisible close at hand than at a greater distance.




As soon as the problem is solved to the satisfaction of the naval authorities a scheme for painting the battleships will be worked out for use in time of war. It is already reported in this country that the British Navy has ships painted in all sorts of colors on patrol duty in and around the North Sea, and that the plan has worked with great success. Thayer evolved a plan of covering up funnels and fighting tops with a series of planes intended to reflect the color of the sky, but the plan has not been found entirely practicable, for the reason that the roll of the ship destroyed the reflection intended and at times made the vessels more prominent to the eye than before, and also because the winds frequently made their use impossible altogether.

Another experiment being conducted by the Navy is one intended to make periscopes invisible. While they are practically so now, the wake they leave behind them can always be detected because it runs in a straight line of foam.

Tuesday, March 3, 2026

sausage works / playing wartime havoc with the eye

Above
A rendering by J. André Smith (American camoufleur and war artist) of an installment of tents in which half have been broken up with disruptive patterns, while half still need completion, as described in the article below. In that article, the two wooden ducks (flannel covered) described as being on display in a London museum were demonstrations of countershading, made by American artist Abbott Handerson Thayer, and given to the museum after he had spoken there.

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Roger Pocock, The Art of Concealment: Devices on Land and Sea. The Mercury (Hobart, Tasmania) January 3, 1918, p. 6—

On the permanent staff of the Natural History Museum in London there are two little wooden ducks. They are dressed in gray flannel, and each housed in a glass case, with a grey flannel background. No. 1 duck is dressed in plain gray flannel and you can see her plainly at a hundred yards, because of the dark shadow cast by her neck and body, as well as by the brightness of her back. No. 2 duck to slightly whitened underneath to counteract the shadows, and slightly bronzed on top to counteract the light. Even at six feet the showcase appears to be empty. There is not a sign of duck. No hawk, no fox, no sportsman with a scatter-gun and a small dog could possibly discover or kill the invisible duck unless she moved, or made foolish quacks to guide her enemies. A great many years ago I wrote to the Lords of the Admiralty, imploring them to go and see the invisible duck, who could teach them priceless lessons in the art of concealing battleships and cruisers. They promised faithfully, so l have no doubt they called and left their card.

Am I giving away a secret, or letting cats out of bags? From all I hear the British navy of today can show the invisible duck that she in a mere beginner in the art of camouflage. In the current number of Punch you may see a tramp steamer impersonating a German sausage works. That's a joke, but the British fleet delights in playing practical jokes on the Germans. You may have noticed, for example, that the U-boat campaign is not a complete success, and that the British Lion does not as yet sit up to beg for mercy.

If you would study camouflage by land go look at the wild animals. See how the tawny lion and striped tiger are painted to resemble the tall yellow bunch grass at the jungle. The giraffe is painted with a quaint diamond-pattern exactly like the flickering lights among the acacias trees on which he feeds. The leopard, the jaguar, and all spotted cats, the spotted deer, and the dappled horse are painted to imitate the dappled light under a shady tree. The pig is patched pink and brown like the sunlight, and shadow of the denser woods, The elephant is painted a hazy brown, exactly like the great trees at the deepest forest. So all the wild beasts are colored for concealment in their natural landscape, while many of them change their clothes with the seasons. wearing white for the snowy winters, brown for the torrid summer. In exactly the same way our British armies are clothed in tawny dun for the tropics, and in khaki—a Hindu word for dung color—for warfare in temperate regions.

The khaki blends exactly with the cranes and timbers of North Western Europe. As for the German field-grey, it is a capital imitation of the shadows cast by woods or entrenchments on a sunny day, and blends very nicely either with rain or fog. The horizon blue of the French armies tones well into average landscape. All are useful colors. In the early part of the war the British made one mistake. The service cap was kept taut and smart with a wire hoop inside the rim of its flat top. So stretched, the cloth reflected sunlight, and presented a fine target for enemy marksmen, until we found out what was wrong. Then we moved the wire, and the cap was no longer a target. When, during air raids, our men get the order "to stand fast," the army is almost altogether invisible at 2,500 feet.

In the old days our bell tents made excellent targets for heavy artillery, being visible at a distance of many miles. Now all of them are painted with a special sort of distemper, and the bolder the patches, the stronger the colors, the better. Strong painting breaks the contours of any sheet, and so not only tents, but guns, timbers, wagon covers and huts are made to look just like the patched and broken ground of camps and roadways. Beyond such elementary trifles in camouflage the writer may not go with discretion. But the thing is certainly a wonderful and complete art today.

At the present time Fritz [the German military] is surely puzzled, he even, when we let his airplane observers enjoy a peep at our lines, the things that they see are not really there at all, while the guns, which they can neither see nor photograph, are playing havoc with the fond ambitions of the super-man.

One must own that Fritz is artful himself, but the British army, like the navy, has many a merry jest at the expense of the bewildered enemy.


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Thursday, February 19, 2026

Troccoli's involvement in artillery camouflage in WWI

Giovanni Battista Troccoli (1882-1940) was an Italian-American painter who came to the US at age 11 in 1893. He began his career in Boston, where he worked as a wood carver at age 14, and soon after as a modeler for a well-known Boston sculptor, Hugh Cairns.

WWI artillery camouflage (Watertown Arsenal) AI Colorized

He turned from sculpture to painting, and in the process studied with Denman Ross (author of A Theory of Pure Design: Harmony, Balance, Rhythm), and with artist and frame designer Hermann Dudley Murphy, both of whom were associated with Harvard University. The latter, as explained in earlier posts, supervised the application of ship camouflage during World War I.

Troccoli also studied painting in Paris, Amsterdam and Spain, and seems to have been primarily known as a portrait painter. Of greater interest at the moment is his little-known involvement in wartime camouflage. During WWI, perhaps as a civilian, he was involved in developing camouflage patterns for American field artillery at the Watertown Arsenal, in Watertown MA. It is unconfirmed but he may have contributed to the camouflage of the field guns that are shown above and below in this post, all of which were apparently processed at Watertown.

Wednesday, February 18, 2026

so who invented camouflage / two more possibilities?

SS Lapland in camouflage 1918 (not related to text)
In an earlier post today, I made note of the credit that may be due to a British brewer, Joseph Williams Lovibond, for his early contributions to wartime camouflage. I had no sooner posted that when I ran across his name again, in a newspaper article (see text below) that dates from one year earlier and makes the same claim. However, it is even more interesting because it also claims that yet another man, a British bridge engineer named Reginald Arthur Ryves (1873-1949), made proposals for the camouflage of ships, guns and wagons as early as 1905.

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COLOR "COVER": Pioneers of Camouflage in The Telegraph. Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, on October 3, 1927—

Who Invented camouflage?

The recent death of Mr. Solomon J. Solomon, R.A., the famous artist, who was one of the pioneers of camouflage during the war, has made many people ask that question. For, though there was at first a tendency to describe him as the inventor of the art, It soon became obvious that there were other claimants to the honor.

As a matter of fact, It would seem that it was the Germans who first used this particular kind of deception during the war, although, thanks to the ingenuity of Mr. Solomon and his colleagues, we soon beat them at their own game.

It was, however, Britishers who first saw, before the outbreak of hostilities, that developments of this kind were necessary in modern war. As long ago as September 1905, a consulting engineer, Mr. Reginald Ryves, put forward an idea for the painting of ships to deceive an enemy, on practically the lines which were afterwards adopted. He added suggestions for the painting of guns and wagons.

Also some years before 1914 Mr. [Joseph Williams] Lovibond, a brewer, made experiments with painted screens for hiding gun positions. His system was demonstrated to the War Office, whose representative was much impressed by the success of the device. But nothing further was done, and it was only after the Germans had started it that we began to think seriously about the possibilities of camouflage.

It Is tragic when we think how many lives might have been saved had Mr. Lovibond's ideas—or Mr. Ryves's—been adopted earlier!

The real credit for the invention of camouflage must, however, be given to Nature. Look at the wonderful protective coloring of certain birds and insects—how they fit into the scenes which they commonly frequent. Or take the tiger. He looks conspicuous enough when we see him at the zoo, but in his native jungle he is practically invisible until the moment that it suits him to be otherwise.

But in one way at least we had begun to learn the lessons those animals had to teach even before we called upon Mr. Solomon to hide our guns from the enemy, or Mr. Norman Wilkinson to paint our ships so that no one could tell which way they were going. Our field service uniform of khaki was chosen because it blended naturally with the color of the surrounding country in many of the lands where our troops had had to operate.

Friday, January 16, 2026

railway car reminiscent of wartime ship camouflage

WAGR Railway Car [AI colorized]
TESTS FOR DIESEL'S SAFETY PAINT, COMMENT WELCOMED, CRISS-CROSS EYE-CATCHER
in Northern Times (Camarvon, Western Australia, Australia), March 7, 1947, p. 5—

Following complaints from the country that WAGR [Western Australia Government Railways] cream and green diesel-electric rail cars merged into the countryside background colors, thereby endangering the safety of road travelers at level crossings, a novel attempt is being made to ensure public safety.

Each end of a diesel-electric rail car has been painted with diagonally converging black and white lines, four inches wide, producing a rather startling and bizarre effect reminiscent of ship camouflage during the war [World War II].

While this color scheme certainly detracts from the generally pleasant and smart appearance of the diesel cars, it shows the Railway Department is ready and willing to do all possible for public safety.

[A] Car so painted is under test to ascertain whether it is now more readily visible to country road users when approaching railway crossings and the department will welcome the comments of country residents.

Tuesday, January 13, 2026

WWI blue gray dazzle / daubs of rust appear as blood

SS Ceramic in dazzle camouflage
Above
British troop ship SS Ceramic in 1918, at which time it was painted in a dazzle camouflage scheme. It was used again in World War II, during which it was torpedoed and destroyed by a German U-boat in 1942. 656 people were on board, of whom only one survived. A full account of the ship's history can be found in Clare Hardy, SS Ceramic: The Untold Story (2012).

•••

George Henry Johnston, My Brother Jack. North Ryde, New South Wales: Angus and Robertson, 1990, pp. 3-4—

One recollects something of this later phase [of World War I] in a series of vivid little vignettes that are incomplete and scattered, but bright enough, like the fragments of spilt color I remember strewn on the hall carpet all around the artificial limbs and crutches when the front door slammed in a gusty wind one day and shattered the decorative lead light side panels of red and green and blue and amber glass.

Almost the earliest and yet the clearest of these images is of the troopship Ceramic, with her four rakish masts and her tall tilted smokestack, coming home to the flags and the festoons of garlands and the triumphal arches and the bands playing Sousa marches on the pier at Port Melbourne. The blue-grey abstract dazzle of the camouflage-painting on the steamer's incredibly long, lean hull, although spectacular, came as no surprise to me, but I do remember being astonished by the bright daubs of red lead and the more sanguinary streams of rust streaking down from ports and hawse-hole and scuppers, because I had only visualized the ship before in the gray monotone of a mounted photograph which was kept on top of the piano, together with a hard army biscuit on which was drawn with Indian ink a sketch of a camel and the Sphinx and a palm-tree and the Pyramids and the legend Australian Imperial Forces Cairo New Year 1915. There was no coincidence in the photograph being there on the piano; the Ceramic was the transport that had taken Mother away; the coincidence was that it was the same ship that brought Dad home. Even so, I had not expected the vivid redness of the rust and the red lead, which to my awed childish imagination looked like blood pouring down the ship's side. Perhaps it had been.


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Thursday, December 25, 2025

a wooden superstructure, we dazzle-painted the sides

Unidentified WWI truck camouflage

Cecil Day Lewis
[father of actor Daniel Day Lewis], The Otterbury Incident. London: Putnam's Sons, 1948—

Just then I heard the rumble of the enemy tank coming down Abbey Lane to our right. To be absolutely accurate, it wasn't a rumble, but a clattering, squeaking noise, made chiefly by the old tireless bicycle wheels on which the tank ran. It was a wizard job, that tank. We'd built it in the school workshop. The superstructure was made of wood, and we'd dazzle-painted the sides: there was a bit of camouflage netting, which Ted had got from his brother in the Airborne, over the top of it, and a broom handle sticking out through a hole in the front for a gun. It held three people easily: the driver, who pedaled it; the gunner; and the tank captain. With its high, box-like shape, it really was more like an armored car, but we called it a tank.

Friday, December 12, 2025

countershading and disruption in artillery camouflage

The three photographs in this blog post were originally published in black and white in Scientific American during World War I. 

As posted here, they have been restored and AI colorized. They are excellent examples of attempts to camouflage artillery by applying countershading (as proposed by American artist Abbott H. Thayer) and by breaking up the cannon's shape by applying high contrast disruptive patterns, such as stripes. 





It is interesting to look at these in comparison to a series of five hand-drawn illustrations (as shown below) by WWII British army camoufleur and eminent zoologist, Hugh B. Cott, in Adaptive Coloration in Animals, which we have blogged about before.