Step 9: The Bestowal is complete and the perfect Stella Artois has been served. But the painters coming off the wall does not mean the project is finished.

As we’ve mentioned before, and as we’ve been sharing in small pieces throughout, we’ve been documenting the entire project. With director Malcolm Murray, we’re not just looking at the painting but also delving into the world of the painters themselves.

We’ve shot nearly 50 hours of footage and in the coming weeks, we will be releasing a short documentary online and at screenings around the country. Additionally, we also have some fun plans for the time lapse footage we’ve captured. Look for more on these in upcoming posts.

But for now, our sincerest thanks to all the painters who brought the wall to life. You guys are amazing, and the next round is on us.

The process of researching and filming this project has led us to some interesting people and places. Perhaps tops on that list is Bob Middleton.

As far as wall painting in New York City goes, Bob is somewhat of a human landmark (because he’d undoubtedly scoff at “legend”). And he truly embodies the tradition of the craft.

Bob’s father started as a shop boy in the 1910’s, worked his way up, and eventually bought the Mack Sign Co. some years later. Bob then worked for his dad for years, learning the trade and eventually taking the company over himself. Bob’s son even joined the family business before the family sold the company name in the ‘90s, at which time Bob retired.

We spent an afternoon with Bob, talking about the trade, his days on the walls, and looking over drawings and pictures of the hundreds of walls he worked on throughout the five boroughs.

After our time with him, the most striking thing we walked away with was this: the trade hasn’t changed, and it’s not going to change. Our conversations with Bob mirror those with Pat or Austin or any of the guys who worked our wall, differing only in the color of their hair and years on their faces. Which we found inspiring. The processes, the dangers, the joys, all the way down to the ropes and equipment, they’re exactly the same. For better or worse, this is truly timeless work.

So while a lot of it may be fading into history, it seems the guys at Sky High prove it will never completely disappear.

For more on the history of Mack Sign Co. and great samples of Bob’s work, check out this dedicated archive.

Many thanks to Bob and his wife, Linnea, for welcoming us into their home.

Today the guys completed Step 7: The Judgement, where the beheaded foam crown is measured to make sure it’s exactly 3cm high. Of course on our wall that’s more like three or four feet high. Either way, it means our perfect Stella Artois is nearly complete.

As we’ve written about previously, and discussed many times within our group, these painters are some of the last purveyors of a disappearing craft. So while there is still much more to come (remember the film clips thus far are only small bits of a larger piece), as the painting winds down we continue to be struck by the central paradox of the work: that this dying tradition is the very thing breathing life into this project.

And in many ways, by paying homage to The Belgian Pouring Ritual, our project also pays homage to those oft-forgotten notions of craft and tradition.

So we chatted again with our friend Sam Roberts. Sam is currently project managing the creation of the first online archive of hand painted advertising in the UK & Ireland, a project you can follow on the Ghost Signs blog and fan page he runs. And as our project has come to life, his historical perspective on the craft of wall painting has been enlightening.

Here’s part of the conversation.

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Ritual Project: What inspired you to start the Ghost Signs Archive?

Sam Roberts: A number of signs around the Stoke Newington area of London, in particular one for Waterman’s Ideal Fountain Pen and the shop selling them called Walker Bros. I was interested that they once offered a fountain pen repair service, something that seems far removed from the disposable approach to pens these days. My original thinking was that this and other signs wouldn’t be around forever so getting a photographic record of some description felt like the right thing to do. This has now grown into what is now the current archive project.

Do you consider the archive to be a chronicle of advertising history or art history? Is it both?

The advertising angle is perhaps the most obvious, these signs existed during a period which saw the rise of big brands and the advertising that was necessary to build these and make them famous. This period also witnessed a shift from more locally-driven economic activity to one fuelled by national and international trade routes and distribution channels. The signs allow us to observe these changes, especially when placed together with print and other forms of advertising from the same era.

However, my work inevitably crosses over into other areas including design, typography, craft, folk tradition, local history and more. It seems that there are many diverse lenses through which people look at and relate to the signs and each of these warrant further exploration.

We’ve spoken at great length within our group about wall painting as a fading tradition, which your archive captures beautifully. Is this a comment on something bigger than painted walls?

I’d highly recommend reading A.J.Lewery’s ‘Sign Written Art.’ He discusses the roots of hand painted signage and the links with folk art and craft. While he is optimistic about signwriting’s future I do see these fading signs as evidence of an overall demise in the traditional skills that were once commonplace. While we can’t stop the pace of change, it seems a shame that this is happening. I can imagine that the work of an artist/craftsman is something that would bring great satisfaction: utilising carefully honed skills to produce unique work in an individual style.

As your archive proves, the wall paint has genuine enthusiasts around the world. And as the onlookers under the rigs here in NYC prove, that following isn’t relegated solely to “ghost” walls. Why are people so intrigued by this work?

I think there is a natural fascination with the skill required to produce something of the scale of these signs. The photo-real nature of some of Sky High/Colossal Media’s work is staggering and invites the question, “how do they do that?” I think with the older signs there is a similar thing happening but they also offer a very public insight into our not so distant past. They are often local landmarks and have a place in the collective and individual consciousness of people who have often walked past them daily for years.

So many fans, yet the wall paint is a dying art form.

It’s interesting that their relative rarity has coincided with an increase in their popularity.  I suspect that in the early years of the last century they would most likely have been considered an eyesore, much the same as billboards these days.

Sky High Murals, our partners on The Ritual Project, are making the wall paint relevant again. Have you come across other artists or groups who are doing the same?

I think that the closest you have to this in the UK is the work of artist Bob and Roberta Smith. He did a project in 2007 called ‘Shop Local’ creating painted signs for local businesses in the Hoxton area of London. This was intended to be a comment on the rise of homogenous shopping experiences driven by big retail and the impact this has on local shops and traders.

What I see more of is artists using the signs as a platform for their own work.  Examples include Emmanuel Nouaillier, Stuart Free, Keith J. Hampton and Martin Thompson. These interpretations are interesting in their own right and show the capacity of the signs to offer a springboard into other areas of creative endeavour.

The Ritual Project has changed our perspective on our surroundings; we find ourselves looking up a lot more. Has the Ghost Signs archive changed your relationship with London?

Looking up has become a way of life; only yesterday I spotted a new sign when visiting a part of London I’d never been to before. I wouldn’t say the project has changed my relationship with London but it definitely has given me a new way of seeing the city and aspects of it that usually pass unnoticed. This has also rubbed off on friends and family as their eyes have also been opened to these little glimpses of our history.

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Thank you, Sam.

As we mentioned yesterday, today was dedicated to executing The Beheading. This step is perfect for stop-frame animation, as the sequence of images below shows. And since the guys were able to execute it relatively quickly, it really came to life for passersby on the street below. Because the knife moved another frame, taking more foam with it, every couple of hours.

Only a couple steps left now until our perfect Stella Artois is complete.

Here we are again, letting our eyes wander. This time we’ve stumbled upon the story of the Pink Lady of Malibu, via Wooster Collective. It dates back to 1966, and it reads like legend. We like to think of it as a lesson in mural mythology, something for the muralists of today and tomorrow to share around the campfire.

When the Pink Lady suddenly appeared one morning (mystery), word spread like wildfire, causing bottlenecks and backups along the road. The Pink Lady had to be removed. When preliminary efforts failed (paint thinner, firefighters), the artist, a Lynne Seemayer, decided to come forward. She admitted to painting the 60-foot Lady in one night’s time (Herculean effort).  The Pink Lady only lasted one week (tragedy), but thanks to the blogosphere, her name might just live on forever. At least we hope so.

We love this “action shot,” though it tells a sad story. We don’t know how Seemayer painted the Pink Lady in one night, but painting over her seems to have involved a bit of rappelling (adventure). It reminded us on some level of our team, scaling walls. It’s a bravery we’ll never know, but a story we’ve certainly been glad to tell.