A Niche for Folk Art at the Met

I attended a fantastic opening reception this past Tuesday night, and thought it would be fun to share it with you. The event was held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and celebrated the reopening, after years of renovations, of the painting and sculpture galleries of the all-important American Wing. The museum was decked out for the occasion, from the red, white, and blue votive candles sparkling on the Grand Staircase to the blue floodlights on the Temple of Dendur where the main reception (for about 1,000 people) was held.

Why is the American Wing so important? As the highest-profile and most-visited permanent installation of its type, it defines for millions of people the visual culture of the United States as expressed in art. One could also argue that it serves as the cultural port of entry for hundreds of thousands of international visitors to New York, providing them with their first understanding of the history of America.

The new installation is stunning in its quality and in its coherent story line. But for me, the highlight was the prominence on American folk art in that story. There is a gallery devoted to folk art, which is pictured here, and also a number of selected pieces throughout the other galleries enhancing the sense of inclusiveness in the exhibition. It was a reminder that the whole story of America cannot be told without the voices of the ordinary men and women who sculpted and painted their lives.

Jig Dolls, Lumberjacks, and Dancin' Dans

​During the 18th and 19th centuries, Americans had many forms of home entertainment. Many of these involved the playing and enjoying of music. Jig dolls, or limberjacks as they are sometimes called, are one form of folk art that came out of this musical tradition. A jig doll is a jointed wooden figure that was attached to a rod and panel, and could be manipulated by the player of an instrument or someone moving the doll to the tune of the music. The history of these dolls goes back hundreds of years, with the first being used by itinerant Italian street performers to animate their shows. Many European countries had their own version of the jig doll. This form was brought to America with settlers and immigrants, and it developed into a distinctive American form. Jig dolls could be carved or turned, and were often painted to reflect a character or stereotypical image. They usually had both jointed arms and legs which flailed either wildly when moved or in a dancing motion, depending on the skill of the handler! Jog dolls can be seen in folk art collections and have been recognized and collected as such.




​At the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, the ways in which Americans listened to and played music changed drastically with the invention of the phonograph by Thomas Alva Edison. The first phonographs played recorded music on wax cylinders. The more popular and commercially used phonographs used flat discs, onto which a groove was made which contained the music. Phonograph companies and inventors alike produced jig dolls and limberjacks that could be attached to the turntable or sound arm of a phonograph, that would vibrate to the tune of the music. As they became more mass produced, certain recognizable characters developed, including Ragtime Rastus, Happy Fanny, and Dancin’ Dan and Dancin’ Dina.




​The question then arises, when do jig dolls stop being folk art, and start being part of popular culture? Is this transition and abrupt one with the introduction of mechanized production? Can relevant information about music and home entertainment history still be gleaned from the later jig dolls? I think so, but I guess that question will be left up to the material scholars of the future.

-by Kelly Mustone, American Folk Art course, Cooperstown Graduate Program
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No Need to Shout

This email just came across my desk, in big, bold type:

"Hi, I have missed your Emails on folk art. It is real joy to read about .I have been active in the market of folk art for some years now and find your writing very educational. I am not shouting at you,I just can't control my pc very well .Where is my eight year old Granddaughter when I need her?"

I'm glad the writer wasn't shouting, because he didn't need to. I realize that It has been too long since I posted anything here, owing mainly to the demands of my job as President of the Fenimore Art Museum and Farmers' Museum in Cooperstown.

I'll try to do better, starting with sharing some illuminating posts written by my grad students last semester. They're fascinating, and some touch upon subjects I had no knowledge of. The first of these will be up very shortly. Thanks for being patient and not shouting :-)

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More Treasures from the Katcher Collection

Rachel Ann Maria (Overbaugh) Ostrander and Titus Ostrander

Attributed to Ammi Phillips (1788-1868)

Saugerties, New York, circa 1834-1835

Oil on canvas, 58 x 44 inches, original veneered frame

This is one of the greatest folk portraits ever painted. Ammi Phillips was one of the most successful and prolific portrait painters of the nineteenth century, plying his trade in New York’s Hudson River Valley and Western New England for more than half a century.  This striking, elegant likeness of Rachel Ostrander and her son Titus is his largest known work and generally considered one of his best.  The beauty and timeless serenity of the image belies the adversity faced by the principal sister in the decade following the completion of this painting.  Rachel Overbaugh married Stephen Nottingham in 1827, when she was just seventeen.  They had Titus shortly thereafter, and another child just after this portrait was painted (interesting to note how Phillips helped her hide her pregnancy).  When Stephen died in 1840 Rachel married her first cousin, Solomon Overbaugh in 1842.  Their child Peter was one year old when Solomon died in 1844, and Rachel married her third husband, Captain William Teunis Swart, in 1846.