History
Only in Baltimore?
Rowhouses, attached homes sharing common walls, fill thousands of blocks of this major American city. The homes' windows face the street at eye level. They provide the perfect outdoor gallery. Only in Baltimore could you walk the streets of a living museum, and enjoy examples of the unique art form found on window and door screens throughout historic, primarily eastside communities. Painted screens are an authentic urban folk art, created, displayed and beloved here since 1913.
William Oktavec, a Czech grocer, introduced his iconic “Red Bungalow” scene in 1913. Painted screens were found on almost every window and door in entire neighborhoods of the city during most of the twentieth century, and can be found today scattered throughout the region and country.
William Oktavec, a Czech grocer, introduced his iconic “Red Bungalow” scene in 1913. Painted screens were found on almost every window and door in entire neighborhoods of the city during most of the twentieth century, and can be found today scattered throughout the region and country.
Screen Painting Pioneers
William Oktavec
Richard Oktavec
Al Oktavec
Ben Richardson
Ted Richardson
Alonso Parks
Tom Lipka
Frank Cipolloni
Dee Herget
The Story
In the summer of 1913, the corner grocer at Collington and Ashland Avenues in the heart of Northeast Baltimore's Bohemian (Czech) community, was the first person to introduce colorful scenes on woven wire. William Oktavec painted the front doors of his shop with images of the meat and produce he sold inside.
A neighbor admired his artwork and its practical bonus of preventing passersby from seeing inside his store, while she could see outside. Wishing to maintain privacy in her rowhouse, she asked Oktavec to paint a screen for her front window and presented him with a colorful scene from a calendar. Each of her neighbors demanded their own - for every window and door of the house. Adjacent communities in turn had at least one enterprising painter eager to imitate the new trend, accommodate clamoring residents, and make some easy cash. Artists and dabblers have continued the tradition ever since.
In 1922, Oktavec opened The Art Shop at 2409 East Monument Street where he sold painted screens by the thousands and taught art classes to neighbors of all ages. This was in addition to his church restoration and retail framing and art supply businesses. One of his students, Johnny Eck assisted three generations of Oktavecs when business was especially brisk. In the heyday of painted screens in the 1940s and 50s, resourceful men and women plied the streets of Baltimore by foot, by car and from modest storefronts, supplying as many as 100,000 screens to eager homeowners. Over the years the popularity of painted screens ebbed and flowed. First the World Wars dealt a blow, then air conditioners, then changing demographics and changing definitions of modernity. Today, renovation, replacement windows and the rising costs of custom art work add to the toll. At the same time, a revolution in crafting and entrepreneurship has found an eager audience of artists and admirers to take the art form into the 21st century as its popularity spreads far beyond Baltimore.
A neighbor admired his artwork and its practical bonus of preventing passersby from seeing inside his store, while she could see outside. Wishing to maintain privacy in her rowhouse, she asked Oktavec to paint a screen for her front window and presented him with a colorful scene from a calendar. Each of her neighbors demanded their own - for every window and door of the house. Adjacent communities in turn had at least one enterprising painter eager to imitate the new trend, accommodate clamoring residents, and make some easy cash. Artists and dabblers have continued the tradition ever since.
In 1922, Oktavec opened The Art Shop at 2409 East Monument Street where he sold painted screens by the thousands and taught art classes to neighbors of all ages. This was in addition to his church restoration and retail framing and art supply businesses. One of his students, Johnny Eck assisted three generations of Oktavecs when business was especially brisk. In the heyday of painted screens in the 1940s and 50s, resourceful men and women plied the streets of Baltimore by foot, by car and from modest storefronts, supplying as many as 100,000 screens to eager homeowners. Over the years the popularity of painted screens ebbed and flowed. First the World Wars dealt a blow, then air conditioners, then changing demographics and changing definitions of modernity. Today, renovation, replacement windows and the rising costs of custom art work add to the toll. At the same time, a revolution in crafting and entrepreneurship has found an eager audience of artists and admirers to take the art form into the 21st century as its popularity spreads far beyond Baltimore.
