Chaos in the round at the Cyclorama

They are moving and saving the Atlanta Cyclorama at a cost of $35 million to be paid by private philanthropists. I am glad, and amazed.

I first saw the Cyclorama— and the adjacent Atlanta zoo, and mighty, carved Stone Mountain—when I was 10 and my mother insisted our family vacation somewhere other than Central Florida. My father, an avid fisherman, was disappointed but went along.

The two of them never could agree on Atlanta.

One of the largest paintings in the world, oil on Belgian linen, the Cyclorama depicts the Civil War Battle of Atlanta. The painting has been seen by thousands of eager schoolchildren on field trips, and by countless tourists with an appreciation for history. Tourists like my mother, a former teacher who felt vacations should have educational elements, not just hot dogs and Tilt-a-Whirls.

The century-old building leaked, the painting’s popularity waned, but the Cyclorama somehow endured. Like a fading actress, it had a few facelifts along the way.

When I went for my second Cyclorama visit in 1985—to write a column, of course—the venerable attraction was still a modest draw, and they’d done away with the red Georgia clay that used to be part of the foreground diorama. It caused mildew and attracted rats. But the painting was fresh from a refurbishing and much as I remembered it from childhood. The Martin brothers of Tennessee were right where I had left them 22 years earlier. One was lying prostrate on the ground, his gray uniform covered with blood. The other brother, dressed in blue, was bending down to offer comfort. I called my column “Chaos in the Round.” I felt the headline apt for the poignant painting of a Union victory that left an estimated 12,140 people dead.

Now experts are preparing the football-field-and-a-half-long Cyclorama for relocation. The painting, according to The New York Times, will be shrinkwrapped and rolled onto a pair of giant spools. The spools then will be lifted by cranes through a hole in the ceiling and placed on two trucks. The trucks will wait till after the infamous Atlanta rush hour to start the cross-town journey from the zoo to the Atlanta History Center.

Having dealt with Atlanta traffic for seven years, I suggest they wait till Christmas morning.

The Atlanta Cyclorama wasn’t always a Southern fixture. It was commissioned in 1885 by a Wisconsin man who hired German artists. Civil War veterans were still around for technical assistance, and the painting first toured the North.

An Atlantan bought the enormous painting at auction for $1,000 around the turn of the century. It is now insured for $7.5 million and is one of fewer than two dozen cycloramas left in the world.

Before movies, before digital photographs, before animation, a cyclorama was supposed to make you feel as if you were in the thick of things. Civil War battles were practically current events, and the popular paintings were like news reels.

This Sistine Chapel of the South has a place in art history as well as a role depicting military history. The History Center seems an appropriate place for it to land.

My mother would be delighted that neither snow nor rain nor traffic at night would defeat this painting in the round.