The Elusive Kitten: How To Spot A Peckham (Deacon Robert Peckham)

In which a cat is very hard to find, because art imitates life.

It may not come as a surprise that my recent interest in the works of folk portraitist Deacon Robert Peckham has led me to compile a full catalog of known and unknown Peckhams. After all, when one discovers a new favorite artist, it’s a natural instinct to gather together all of their works, arrange them in proper detailed order, and then go find some more.

Fortunately, the job’s much easier when the artist is consistent. So far, during the Peckham-scavenging process, I’ve spotted about a half-dozen of them. They’re usually not too difficult to track down. However (at risk of sounding like the Wicked Witch of the West) this little girl and her little cat escaped me for months. 
I’d first spotted her on Pinterest, but like any social media site, it’s less than diligent about citing its sources. She was a Peckham. I knew it. I could feel it in my bones. But that knowledge was no use at all to me without a legitimate origin, and all search tools failed to locate the image. I can’t exactly put “Source: Pinterest” in a bibliography. 

And so, she sat in my notes since mid-March, bearing the label “Manner of Peckham” — a shorthand code for saying “It looks right, but I can’t prove it.” (Yet.)

But, before we get into the whole uphill battle of attribution, I should explain what defines a Peckham portrait in the first place. I could tell it in my own words (probably less than concisely), but, for credibility’s sake, I’d rather quote the sources I learned from. Former National Gallery of Art curator Deborah Chotner, author of the Hobby Horse catalog, explains the most noticeable Peckham-isms:

Many stylistic characteristics - the strong, single-direction lighting emphasizing the subject's shining forehead, the fluid handling of the sitter's hair, and the placement of highlights in his eyes - are found in unsigned works attributed to Peckham. While the artist's style may have evolved somewhat over the years, his works are recognizable for their distinctive quality of hard light, their sometimes "too truthful" naturalism, their crispness, and their meticulous attention to detail.

While the images [of children] make use of the same directional light, somewhat stiff poses, realistic (even unflattering) features, they are most arresting because of the direct gazes that connect subjects to viewer, their striking intensity, and the sense that the children are tightly enveloped within their environments.

At any time these children might be angelic or mischievous, but in each case Peckham depicts them as specific individuals, rather than types.

Peckham masterfully skirts the uncanny valley without falling into it.

(paintings: Rosa Heywood, Colonial Williamsburg Museum / Young Blue-Eyed Boy, private collection / Phebe Brown, American Folk Art Museum / Milton Joslin, Forbush Library / Betsy Batchellor Hale, private collection / Young Boy with Toy Cat, private collection, photo courtesy of David A. Schorsch and Eileen M. Smiles, Woodbury, CT)

The phrase “too truthful,” which may have been coined by one of Peckham’s contemporaries, is one of my all-time favorites. It’s the most relevant factor when trying to spot a Peckham painting, alongside the inescapable, arresting eye contact. Peckham’s subjects are never idealized, vague, or ambivalent. They stare back at the viewer intently, capturing the sitter’s lifelike energy with the same intensity as the day the pictures were painted. It’s just the sort of thing that would end up in an Oscar Wilde novel.

Rumor has it, he was once a young man… 
(painting: Man in a Black Jacket, aka Deacon Isaac Davis, private collection)

Another reliable expert, David Krashes, wrote a Peckham article of his own, “Unsung Rural Master” in 1996 Folk Art Magazine. He calls attention to similar elements:

With their many bright colors and details of clothing and toys, his paintings of children are quite different from his more somber, usually half-length, portraits of adults. Characteristics that frequently appear in "Peckham children" are hair painted in bands of black and brown, horizontal bands around the skirts of young boys and girls, lots of toys (including, at times, an impish-looking doll), and eyes that ‘lock on’ to the viewers' eyes.

A whole kindergarten’s worth of Mona Lisa stares.

(paintings: Children of Oliver Adams, private collection; The Raymond Children, The Met; Hobby Horse, National Gallery of Art; Charles Eaton and his Sister, Fruitlands Museum) 
Normally, I would recommend googling the artist for more examples, but in Peckham’s case, the search results are unfortunately mixed up with obvious misattributions on auction websites. It’s impossible to say whether the mistakes were deliberate for the sake of turning a profit, or the result of naiveté and incomplete study of the artist’s works. But to put it bluntly, there are more mislabeled “Peckhams” than the number of Peckhams I've found. In a field as small as folk art, research builds upon itself, including mistaken research. For instance, it’s very likely that none of the Peckham-attributed pastels are by Peckham. I’ll write more on that later, if I’m ever feeling bold enough.
Let’s return to the Peckhams that are correct. Here’s a sample from the expert Dale Johnson’s seminal work, “Delineator of the Human Face Divine” (1979):

…(a) a uniquely strong delineation of the skull formation above the temple (rarely seen in his portraits of adults but invariably in those of children when painted from life); (b) the arresting visual confrontation the eyes of the subjects make with the viewer; (c) his exceedingly meticulous and realistic rendering of detail; and (d) the extent to which he records unflattering physical peculiarities.

Which is another way of saying Peckham never made anyone look better than what reality gave them. He probably would’ve had strong opinions about Photoshop and Snapchat filters. 

There’s a certain affection for humanity in Peckham’s dedication to realism. It’s wrong to falsely record someone for posterity, and better by far to capture a truly accurate likeness. At least, he seemed to think so. Opinions on his style were mixed back then (one particularly scathing remark labeled him “eminently artless”). But time has shown Peckham’s style has broad appeal. It consistently captivates and compels modern audiences, both strangers and scholars alike. This Washington Post article tells it best:

When a friend recently visited the gallery with her 8-month-old daughter, Chotner says the baby looked at the children and waved. “She felt the same thing I was feeling,” she says. “They were as real to her as they were to me.”

Let’s turn to “Farwell Children,” another astoundingly high-quality Peckham child portrait. It’s considered his most ambitious work, and for good reason. It perfectly captures the charmingly awkward energy of a family group photo: all the children gathered together in their fanciest and most itchy clothes, just waiting for someone to say cheese.

“Farwell Children” makes a cameo in Sandra Brant’s wonderful “Small Folk,” which adds whimsical context: 

Deacon John Thurston Farwell, a prosperous scythe maker, engaged an itinerant artist to execute a portrait of his four daughters and one son. The artist, said to be a wagon painter by trade, lived in the family home for many months, requiring the children to pose for seemingly endless sittings. Not one of them liked the portrait and they continually pleaded with their father to remove it from the parlor. Of course, the deacon kept the portrait where he wanted it, and let the girls' beaus laugh at them as they were pictured in it.

Charming if true. We do now know that the “wagon painter by trade” was Deacon Robert Peckham — and it’s true that he painted wagons and other such mundane jobs. He was also, at various times, a Deacon (obviously), a sign painter, a farmer, and an anti-slavery activist. Peckham did a lot with his life.

Before arriving at the American Folk Art Museum, the Farwell Children lived at the home of the notorious high-profile collector Ralph Esmerian, who was unfortunately disgraced in 2010 on charges of bankruptcy fraud, wire fraud, and concealing assets (he pled guilty; maybe his only good decision since it all started.) 

“These works are what America is all about,” declared Esmerian in his 2001 Architectural Digest feature. I’m not sure I'd rely on his opinions, but he did have immaculate taste in folk art.

As the article describes, the American Folk Art Museum (AFAM) benefited from his voracious acquisition habits: “Ralph Esmerian, chairman of the board for the American Folk Art Museum in New York, recently donated his private collection to the institution. More than 400 pieces, including paintings, weathervanes and textiles, go on display at the museum in December.” Distressingly, because of the later scandal, the AFAM was only able to keep 53 out of 263 additional promised works; the remaining 210 were put up for auction to raise funds for his bankruptcy settlements, since they had been falsely used as collateral. It’s a real shame that the Folk Art Museum was so heavily affected by this situation, but fortunately, it barely compares to the vast array of scandals that have plagued every other corner of the art world.

EDIT: David Schorsch shared some more of the history of Farwell Children and his observations on the Esmerian controversy. (I’m very grateful - thank you for contributing!)

When Esmerian bought the Farwell children in the 1980s I believe he paid $180,000... The Farwell picture was owned by Betty Sterling and brokered to Esmerian via Robert Kinnaman and my mother. It was a world record price. Esmerian had exquisite taste and the courage of his convictions which made him the pre eminent fighter folk art collector from the 1970s to early 2000s.  It is sad that that legacy was clouded by his bad financial decisions and criminal actions that brought him down. 

I'm glad to know a bit more about the provenance of this lovely painting. And it is an unfortunate situation with Esmerian and his later mistakes, but regardless, he did the folk art world a great service by amassing such a collection and bringing many wonderful pieces into the public eye.

Farwell Children luckily escaped the mess entirely, and found its forever home at the AFAM, whose collection remains spectacular. The AFAM's catalog page has a wonderfully detailed explanation of the piece: 

Victorian America cherished the idea of the nuclear family. Roles were clearly defined, and the sanctum in which the players performed was the home. In this imposing family portrait attributed to Deacon Robert Peckham, the five children of John Thurston and Mersylvia Farwell form a tight group. Each holds a prop appropriate to age and gender–flower, doll, cat–except John Albro, who holds onto the handlebar of the wicker carriage. Baby Mary Jane sits in the carriage at the center of the composition, fingering a locket around her neck, her siblings forming a constellation around her. This may indicate an impetus for the painting commission, as the infant died in 1841, the year this portrait was made. Postmortem portraiture was not uncommon in the nineteenth century, especially as a means to preserve the wholeness of the family unit.

As other folk art scholars have mentioned, Peckham did love to include meaningful props. Deborah Chotner’s Hobby Horse supplies the details: the flowers belong to Elizabeth, the doll belongs to Sarah, and the cat belongs to Maria. And Maria Farwell is a dead-ringer match for Girl with Cat. This makes Farwell Children an incredibly useful “key” or reference point by which we can match up these two paintings, determining that Girl with Cat qualifies as a Peckham in clearly definable ways.


But what are those definable ways? What exactly makes these particular pieces, and faces, belong to the hand of Peckham? Using principles of analysis, we could go through, bit by bit, and compare the Peckham features, style traits, and so forth, in excruciating detail.

We could also (more efficiently) just use our eyes.
Don't make them late for recess.
For the sake of thoroughness, however, here are the strongest areas of facial feature comparison:
  • The consistently rounded shape of the face, with the pronounced lower jaw, smooth curve from ear to tip of chin, and very distinctive puffiness in the cheeks.

  • Shading the nose strongly on one side and softly on the other, as well as adding a highlight to shape the tip of the nose like a ball.

  • The highlighted definition of both upper and lower eyelid, and heavily painted upper eyelid crease, along with a darker line below the lower lid, emphasizing eye bags. 

  • Thin eyebrows, with a slightly worried expression.

  • Hair painted in chunky strands, with a broadly applied highlight to add a convincing shine.

  • Mouths have very strongly defined lip corners in a frowning expression, and a Cupid’s bow shape. He also uses a consistent peach-red color for the lips.

  • Ears painted in the same shape and style every time (compare for yourself).

  • Nostrils tend to be small, and the top of the nostril fades smoothly into the face.

  • Obvious philtrum/indent above upper lip.

  • Eyes are bright and marble-like, with a white highlight above the iris.

  • And, of course, the trademark indented temples, resulting in a heavily shaded area at the outer corner of the eyes.

(Most of these children are from pieces I’ve linked above; Raymond Children, Farwell Children, and Hobby Horse. The two in the lower left hand corner are Ruth Peckham and George Peckham, the artist’s children.) 

The range of Peckham’s style and rendering technique is fully visible here, as well as the sophistication and complexity. Ruth and George were painted in the mid-1830s, while Peckham’s first recorded works date to the early 1820s. The girl with the kitten was probably painted slightly earlier, since the style is more straightforward. But, like all the rest, she has that distinctive trademark Peckham lighting. He shines a bright spotlight on the face, photo-studio style, to capture a flattering likeness.

In fact, that may have been exactly how Peckham worked. I’ve spoken with the current residents of Peckham’s historical home, and they told me that there’s a particular area of an upstairs room with paint on the floorboards, which must have been his studio. I’ve often wondered, if you had someone sit there to test it out, would the light shining through the window resemble Peckham’s lighting style? However, plane tickets cost too much for me to go find out.

In the meantime, let’s take a closer look at Maria’s pet cat. (Many thanks to Regina Carra at the Folk Art Museum for supplying the high-quality photo.) 

Now, take a look at this one. 

Every artist has their own interpretation of cats, and in folk art, they’re awfully consistent. (I’ve come very close to writing an article cataloging and detailing each style of folk artist’s cat, as an attribution tool, from Ammi Phillips to Zedekiah Belknap. I’ll probably do it soon.)

All cat owners recognize that faux-innocent smile.

We can directly compare these two feline faces, with the very same methods as the children’s faces, to confirm the artist’s hand at work. Note the rounded ears in the upside-down V shape; the brightly highlighted yellow almond eyes; the smooth curved lines from the top of the eye to the tip of the nose; and, of course, the placid, calm expression — the surest sign that the artist has taken some creative liberties. 

Observe the color of the gray fur on the cat’s legs, too:

The top layer of paint has faded, revealing the girl’s blue dress beneath. There’s a very similar technical flaw in another Peckham painting — “John Adams,” which reveals the red paint of a garment underneath the fur of a black dog. In fact, I’ve already written about this painting right here. (Further reading is optional.)

With all that detail in mind (plus common sense), I knew that girl with the cat was a Peckham. But I still couldn’t find it, so there's nothing I could do.

Until, when I was writing my article on Peckham’s Oliver Ellis Adams painting, I looked back through the folk art enthusiast Barbara Vajnar’s Pinterest board — and it miraculously turned up.

There was Girl and Cat, stashed among all the rest of them, with a link to its auction site. Finally! Maybe it would even still be available—

Or not. 

Clearly, somebody else knew its value — it sold for four times its estimate. It’s pretty easy to spot a Peckham, if you know Peckham, so that may be why. Or maybe they just wanted it because it’s so darn cute.

They’re plotting something.

The “Folk Art Portrait of Girl and Kitten” description says what you’d expect: 

Oil on canvas, anonymous, circa 1840-50, small girl in blue dress with gray tiger striped kitten in her lap, seated on a neo-classical side chair, 22 x 26" in a new grain painted frame, 27.5 x 31.5".

So, in addition to its impressively expensive sale, I learned its exact dimensions – 22 x 26. That should make it a little easier to backtrack it, right? Well… no. Not really.

However, if you’ve read my other blog articles, you know this is where I tell you I accidentally found the solution.

Around the same time I finally located Girl with Kitten, I was introduced to the wonderful database Smithsonian Art Inventories. What it lacks in aesthetic elegance, it makes up for in efficiency and breadth of knowledge. I put in a search for Robert Peckham, scrolled for a while, and spotted something familiar… 
It can’t be that easy, can it? 

Title: Young Girl Holding a Gray Kitten. Medium: Oil. Dimensions: 26 x 22. Artist (attributed): Robert Peckham.

Once in a while, you get a stroke of luck. But there was one last step for due diligence. Catalog of American Portraits refers to “Girl with Kitten” appearing in a 1983 Sotheby Parke Bernet catalog (4999, Jan. 27, Lot #211). I requested a copy of the page from an Ebay seller, who very graciously scanned and sent it…

Welcome back to the Peckham club. 

- - -

Read the follow-up (Part 2): https://paintingsworthlookingat.blogspot.com/2024/07/the-elusive-kitten-follow-up-deacon.html

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