Becoming a Living Painting Inside the Legendary ‘Pageant of the Masters’

There’s a legendary courtyard in Laguna Beach where children with faces painted white, in 1920s attire, and Jesus’s apostles chat happily together, playing card games and drinking hot chocolate. Without context, the gathering might seem like a strangely themed family reunion. In reality, the lively bunch are performers waiting backstage for the Pageant of the Masters.

The 93-year-old tradition at the Irvine Bowl places real people inside skillfully painted sets, creating astonishing “living” yet two-dimensional replicas of famous works of art. From Norman Rockwell’s Saturday Evening Post covers to Leonardo Da Vinci’s The Last Supper, the 500 volunteers bring these works to life every night of the summer, every year. I was kindly invited to participate in one evening of this year’s show, “The Greatest of All Time,” by Santa Barbara–based casting director Stephanie Simpson and volunteer Tricia Raphaelian. 

The day of the performance started with a tour of the Irvine Bowl and backstage area. Simpson was kind enough to show me, and my eager plus one (my mom), the hidden set and costume workshops tucked away on the grounds. Hundreds of paint brushes and buckets lay on the tables, and the ceilings soared high, allowing workers to paint on a large scale. 

While the walls of the workshops were bare wood, they sported old sets and Pageant of the Masters posters. I was just glimpsing the generational history the theater holds when CW Keller briefly joined our tour. Keller, whose grandmother worked in the show in the 1930s, began performing as a child and has now spent 40 years as its master electrician — a career path that reflects how many participants stay involved for decades.

After the tour, I walked to the Festival of Arts art show just outside of the theater, where I came across Christopher Allwine amongst a maze of other Orange County–based artists selling their work. Allwine started working in the Pageant of the Masters when he was 17. Now, he sells his photography in the summer-long sister art show outside the Irvine Bowl, in addition to his onstage role as Andy Warhol this year. 

Nearly everyone I spoke to had a long history or generational tie with the show. It became clear the “family reunion” description backstage wasn’t far from the truth. 

As soon as I entered the makeup and costume area, I was thrust into controlled chaos with cast members walking briskly, talking cheerfully, and looking crazy with their painted faces. Michelle Pohl, the makeup director, methodically applied my own product with a paint brush. As an oil painter herself, she commented that this kind of makeup is like painting on a canvas. Similar to my costume, my face was streaked with harsh shadows and color that I knew would only make sense under the stage lights.

Suddenly, it was time to climb up the stairs into the set. Cast members in my piece, “Les Déjeuner sur l’herbe” by Claude Monet, rattled off tips to stay calm and still: “Don’t lock your knees,” “breathe,” and “you can blink” were just a few. As I stood on the small platform behind the set, I appreciated the safety clips attaching me to the wood.

We were jolted forward, rolling onto the stage on our set. As I looked out, I stared into darkness, unable to comprehend the nearly 2,000 people beyond the lights. Because ours was the show’s only “builder” tableau, the audience watched us assemble. We were told to move around and even talk, so I did so until someone moved me into position. Then the stage lights went out with a click.

The moment the lights came back on, I heard an audible gasp from the audience, reminding me that I was really on stage, inside this painting. Relaxing my muscles, I stared off into the darkness, reminding myself that one move would ruin the effect. The curtains closed, and my cast members looked at each other in triumph. 

Watching from the audience afterward, I understood the gasps I heard from the stage. Even through binoculars, I struggled to distinguish the performers from the paintings. Only when someone blinked or moved for choreographic purposes was I reminded of the “living” aspect of these “living pictures.” 

The live orchestra performed emotionally wrought original pieces that added dimension to the entire performance. Actors played the master painters, explaining their first-person history around the artwork that was shown. Additionally, a rotating set, a platform high up on the hill next to the theater, and a projector expanded the performance beyond the frames created onstage. 

As a ballet dancer and frequent theater attendee, it was one of the most singular performances I have ever witnessed and been a part of. The production whisks you away to a palpable time and place, void of stressful distractions like cell phones and flashy modern technology. The Pageant of the Masters‘ extraordinary acting, craftsmanship, lighting, and original music all come together to create something that can only be understood by being there, in the living moment. 

Pageant of the Masters runs through September 4, every night at 8:30 p.m. at the Irvine Bowl. Ticket information is available at foapom.evenue.net, on Instagram @festivalpageant, or by email at tickets@lagunapageant.com and by phone at (800) 487-3378. 

The Festival of Arts art show also occurs just outside the theater every day until September 3, with ticketing and time information available at foapom.com.