"At a slight distance, so harmonious are both the moulding and the tinting, it is impossible to detect the join where the live skin of cheek or nose leaves off and the imitation complexion of the mask begins."
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Facial prosthetics were not a new phenomenon in the early 20th century. They had been used in past centuries to aid people with facial differences and injuries. Notably, facial prosthetics were given to people suffering from the late stages of syphilis, when their facial bones began to dissolve due to the disease.
Improved medical care ensured that these traumatically injured soldiers actually survived their injuries. What were formerly fatal wounds became survivable, but with very visible consequences left behind.
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There were two primary workshops where these prosthetics were created: the Masks for Facial Disfigurement Department at the Third General Hospital in London and the American Red Cross Studio for Portrait Masks for Mutilated Soldiers in Paris.
Masks for Facial Disfigurement Department, London
Though British sculptor Francis Derwent Wood was too old for active duty when the war broke out, he still found ways to serve his country. Working as an orderly in the Royal Army Medical Corps, Wood began crafting new splints for the injured soldiers.
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While crafting splints, Wood realized that he could use his artistic skills to make painted metal masks for disfigured soldiers. Thus, in 1916, the Masks for Facial Disfigurement Department was born.
Wood wrote in an article for The Lancet,
"My cases are generally extreme cases that plastic surgery has, perforce, had to abandon; but, as in plastic surgery, the psychological effect is the same. The patient acquires his old self-respect, self assurance, self-reliance,...takes once more to a pride in his personal appearance. His presence is no longer a source of melancholy to himself nor of sadness to his relatives and friends."
The Department was disbanded in 1919. The exact number of masks made in the Department was not recorded, but it is estimated to be around 200.
Studio for Portrait Masks for Mutilated Soldiers, Paris
In 1917, Wood's work caught the attention of Anna Coleman Ladd, an American sculptor from Pennsylvania.
Earlier that year, Ladd's husband, Dr. Maynard Ladd, was appointed to direct the Children’s Bureau of the American Red Cross in Toul, France. Also working with the Red Cross, Ladd founded the Studio for Portrait Masks for Mutilated Soldiers in Paris in late 1917.
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At first, Ladd began by taking a plaster cast of the soldier's face, a lengthy and uncomfortable process. From that cast, she would use pre-war photos of the soldier to create a likeness in very thin copper. She then painted the copper with enamel, chosen for its flat, skin-like finish, while the soldier wore the mask in order to match their skin tone. For eyebrows and mustaches, she used real human hair.
Eventually, Ladd and her four assistants had honed their craft to the point where they could create casts by hand from photographs. Each prosthetic took around one month per person to complete, and by 1919, Ladd's studio had made 185 masks.
Where are they now?
Though hundreds were made, very few original facial prosthetics from this era survive to the present day. Additionally, no firsthand accounts from veterans who received these masks have been found. The only accounts of their thoughts come through reports of correspondance with Wood and Ladd.
If these masks were supposedly such prized possessions, why are only a handful of them preserved? There are a few different theories.
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For one, according to design historian Katherine Feo, the masks were not very durable. In order to be thin and lightweight enough to be worn, Wood and Ladd sometimes had to sacrifice longevity for quality. The masks were easily dinged and dented, and the metal would eventually begin to rust as it was exposed to the elements.
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Feo notes further that the masks did not age with their wearers. Because they were modeled after pre-war photographs, the prosthetics would appear glaringly anachronistic within two or three years of their creation. While some veterans opted to have several prosthetics made throughout their lives, others could not afford to do so, making their masks obsolete.
Perhaps the most poignant theory comes from art historian Suzannah Biernoff. She asserts that it is possible that veterans kept their prosthetics well into old age, and chose to be buried with them.