Paintings Worth Looking At

This story starts with an entirely different painting, by an entirely different artist. It arrives at the right answer despite itself. - - - PART I. THE MIX-UP - - - I first encountered this charming double portrait on an online auction site, allegedly sold as the work of Deacon Robert Peckham. It’s a lovely folk depiction of children in an interior, which, in all fairness, was Peckham’s specialty. As is typical for the style and era, they’re bright, alert, and look like they know too much. Notably, the props include a chapbook (a small printed pamphlet book for children) and a rose.

In which “eminently artless” turns into “more than average merit.”  Last time , I wrote about Peckham’s portrait of the famous poet and abolitionist John Greenleaf Whittier, explaining the good Deacon’s ties to the anti-slavery cause. After all, there’s plenty to discuss about the strength of his beliefs, not just his artistic skills. Regrettably, this led to the disappointing finale: Whittier didn’t like Peckham’s portraits, and considered him “eminently artless.”  Or did he?  My post-article follow-up research revealed an astounding revelation: Whittier actually approved of Peckham’s portrait, saying that it captured his youthful image. He may or may not have once called him “eminently artless,” but he liked the picture well enough. 

The art of resemblance is a tricky one. People don’t like being committed to memory in an unflattering likeness (just ask any photographer). Historically, artists often chose to enhance a person’s appearance, smoothing out any blemishes and modifying their features for the better. Most frequently, portraits aspired towards whatever the contemporary ideal of conventional beauty happened to be, which varied widely over time and culture. However, the underlying principle is the same: Don’t make them look bad.

  An unexpected postscript… - - - It seems like the folk art paintings I research tend to recur again and again with alarming frequency. I'll write to a friend about an artwork I've come across, and hear "I was at that auction" or "I own that painting" or "I saw that portrait last week”! This happens so often that you'd think there's only a few dozen folk art paintings in the whole world. Except for the ones I'm trying to find , like Oliver Ellis Adams, which I expect will turn up 100 years from now in Antarctica. After posting my article about another mysterious Peckham child in blue — “Girl and Cat" — I shared it with American folk art expert and dealer David Schorsch , who's wisely advised me before on my Peckham research. And, to my astonishment, he replied as follows:

From a typo to a temporary loss of identity. A large part of my folk art research method involves scrolling through thousands of records of American School sales, looking at countless pictures to match patterns and spot similarities. There’s a method to the madness, even though most of the time, it is just madness. But when something leaps out, it makes it all worthwhile. One example of the illogical soundness of the brute-force search is Frances and Humphrey Cousens — Peckham’s last two paintings, as listed in Deborah Chotner's Hobby Horse catalog (p. 43), aka the Peckham bible. 

By now, I come across Peckham paintings with statistically unusual frequency, but spotting one in the background of a TV show is a bit much. (painting: Hobby Horse , National Gallery of Art)

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. 

In which a terrifying little boy goes missing, but winds up immortalized in a classic horror movie. The process of compiling an artist’s works is never easy. Especially in folk art, unsigned pieces are often scattered far and wide, identified only by stylistic quirks and a tenuous chain of linked names and family connections. So, for the sake of thoroughness, whenever I’m tracking down an artist, I scrounge around as many sites as I can get my hands on. You never know what might turn up.