The Wild & Woolie Appraisal
As you know, I was very nervous about what to bring to the Plains Art Museum’s Trash or Treasure event. Not only was the event held at a real art museum, but the appraisers were from big auction house Ivey-Selkirk — all the way from Missouri. That was rather intimidating in and of itself to a collector of this and that, who mainly buys on a whim (and with a tight pocketbook), but to be there representing Collectors’ Quest too? That made me feel like I really should have something neat.
I didn’t fear that I’d be one of those people that you see on Antiques Roadshow who believe they have a prehistoric item which turns out to have been made in Mexico last year and then have to mask their disappointment &/or embarrassment — if only because I am constantly under-estimating the value of our stuff. But I didn’t want to look like a complete dodo either. I figured I should bring something I knew nothing about so that I could at least learn a little something… But what?
Less than a week before the event I still had no idea what. Then we went to Georgine’s and there, on the floor, propped against a shelving unit was this rather large art piece.
Measuring roughly 18 X 30 inches, the piece is made of a turquoise colored burlap canvas stretched over a wooden frame with thick stands of yarn stitched onto the canvas to create a ship at sea, sinking in flames, and an iceberg. The sky, sea and even some flames are painted on the canvas. Something about it charmed me. I paid $4, brought it home, dubbed it the Titanic Folk Art Piece, and decided that this piece met my criteria. It was surely something I knew nothing about, I wasn’t expecting to hear great things about it, and yet the inexpensive price tag meant I wouldn’t look like a rube.
But that Friday night, as we walked into the VIP event, I felt a bit anxious putting it down next to the impressive pottery pieces, watercolors, antique chairs, and other more familiar items. Perhaps this is why, when speaking with Ed Pauley, president of the Plains Art Museum, I brought up the subject of folk art. We talked about the category of folk art and how every few years the category’s name seems to change, including names such as “Primitives” and “Outsider Art”. Just knowing that the president of a fancy-schmancy art museum saw the value in such art, no matter what its name, and that his museum even has such pieces in it’s collection, made me feel a bit more comfortable. But then, it was time for the appraisals…
All the VIPs stood along one side of the tables, the appraisers on the other.
Awkward silence.
Then one of the appraisers, and Ivey-Selkirk Executive Vice-President, Mark Howald, looked at me and said, “Well, what did you bring?”
The moment of truth had arrived. And I felt as silly as I used to with show and tell in Kindergarten.
“Um, it’s that sad little piece of folk art there,” I said, gesturing.
Howald put his hand on it and said, “Well, it’s a woolie, you already know that — so tell me what you know about it.”
Inside my head I was saying, “No, I don’t know that,” but instead I said, “Nothing, really. I just got it last Saturday…”
Howald flips the piece over, explaining to all what he’s looking for in this appraisal. While shipping scenes were the most common in woolies, they are also quite desired as well. However, as is often the woolie way, there are no names of either the ship or the artist. At that point I blurted out, “I think it’s the Titanic, what with the iceberg and all.”
Howald replied, “Sure, there’s two stacks, so it could be…” and discusses how the stacks help date the piece as well.
“But the iceberg…” I whined.
“Iceberg?” he said, looking up at me. I point to the white part on the far right.
“Oh, my, I didn’t even see that,” he laughs. “I bet you all saw that right away, but I was wondering what that hand was doing coming up from the water!”
Everyone laughs and Howald moves on to the other aspects of the piece.
Interestingly, he didn’t use the wooden frame nor the staples to determine the age, but the colors of the yarn which he felt dated it to the 1930’s – 1950’s. He also noted that it was an American made woolie, and that it was a bit unusual to see the painting on this piece.
When he asked me what I thought it was worth, I said I had no idea. Like those other people on Antiques Roadshow, I was delightfully surprised to hear him tell me the auction value: $100 – $150.
(Which just goes to show you that you shouldn’t be intimidated by events like this. Who knows what you have? Well, I certainly wouldn’t have without visiting Trash or Treasure or meeting these appraisers.)
I must have looked stupefied — or just plain stupid — because once he stated the value everyone looked at me. I mumbled that I had only paid a few dollars for it. Most were impressed, some were tingling with glee for my good find. But little did they know that I was equally thrilled to have a name for this type of art — now I had something to research!
Woolies, I discovered, are woolworks made (mainly) by sailors at sea and so usually depict pictures of ships (though other scenes were created). Diana Bittel explains:
The sailor-artist would sketch out his intended Picture on the canvas which would be stretched and supported by a piece of wood on each of two sides which would enable the picture to be rolled up and stashed away easily when it was not being worked on. After the picture was finished and perhaps the ship had returned to port, a more permanent frame would be made.
Most woolies were made between about 1840 and 1900 by British sailors. The American sailors seemed to pass the time creating scrimshaw works so the American woolies are fewer in number — and interestingly, most of these were made later than those the English made.
Making woolies was not simply a way for sailors to pass the time, but it was also practical. Since most sailors needed to know how to sew in order to repair the ship’s sails as well as their own clothes, woolwork was skill building. And, like Rosey Greer said, sewing keeps the fingers nimble. Sewing at sea kept the mind from growing numb with boredom and the fingers from growing numb with cold.
As you can guess, the woolworks with more time consuming stitching have higher values, both for the quality of the work and for their older age.
Many of the earlier woolworks tend to have a very time consuming chainstitch where each stitch seems to go into the stitch before and it is less than a quarter of an inch long. Later, the stitches become a much faster long and short stitch which could go for many inches at a time covering the canvas with a long stitch quickly and taking only a short stitch in the back before coming up in the front again. This would save the wool and make it much faster to work.
Some woolies included more elaborate embellishments, such as use of braided yarns, beads, paint, silkwork, paper cut-outs, and sails stuffed with cotton batting for a billowing effect. These too are more expensive. As are those woolie pictures larger than the typical 16 by 24 inches (thought to be the handiwork of retired seamen). But remember, all woolies are rather rare:
The popularity of the craft peaked between 1860 and 1880; the advent and increasingly common use of steam engines to power the ships drastically reduced the dependency on a large crew to keep things running smoothly. Another factor that had a major impact was the introduction and further widespread use of photography, which gave sailors a much less time-consuming way to immortalize their trips. While some photographs were incorporated into woolies, most viewed them as a replacement, rather than a supplement.
It’s pretty clear that while my woolie isn’t very old, it also isn’t a fraud. However, due to the increased popularity of woolies, there are modern made woolies created to fool collectors. While those with vast ship knowledge may spot problems with ship details (such as number of guns, proportions etc.) the easiest way for a novice to note authentic antique woolworks is to look at the yarn. Genuine woolworks are faded on the front, with their more vibrant or original colors hidden on the back. (Being on the backside, the yarns are protected from light etc. Properly framing your woolie, including sealing the backside, will protect it not only from these things but those dreaded moths as well.)
Also, newer works most often have neater, tighter, stitches than authentic works. Katherine E. Manley and Paul Vandekar put it this way:
Often, the overall appearance is much more tight and tidy than an authentic work- this is not to say that fantastic, well-detailed, tightly-stitched woolies do not turn up, because they do- but there is a folk art quality that is lost in the modern pieces.It is, in fact, the folk qualities that make sailors’ woolworks so desirable. They display a wonderfully naïve charm that is often missing in marine paintings, yet at the same time offer a sophisticated, practiced look at the vessels and elements central to the livelihoods of thousands of 19th century men.
Charming indeed. I am now a huge woolie fan.
I shall likely never know if my rather modern woolie could be worth as much as $150, as it’s not for sale. It may be equally likely that I’ll never be able to afford a woolie collection as the older woolworks by sailors fetch thousands of dollars — but you never know… I’m not the sort who gives up hope. Or stops looking.
You can find woolies here, here, and here. And the Vero Beach Museum of Art has an exhibit, WOOLIES: A Sailor’s Art, running February 2, 2008 – May 11, 2008.
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a collecting amateur, so I checked with Loughridge that I wouldn’t be giving away ‘trade secrets’ to write up a summary of what she taught us — her response was, the more people that know how to frame properly, the better. You see, museums get their art from somebody (they rarely produce it from scratch), so the artwork they receive already framed may or may not be properly cared for. It turns out that even the professional framer in your area may not be doing a museum-quality job. While this might be OK for a quick matting of a family photo to last on the wall for twenty years, museums are looking at centuries in terms of preservation — but if you’re so short-sighted as to expect to outlive your framed family photos, you’re really doing your great-great-grandkids a disservice. Everyone who puts care into framing artwork and wants their current collection to last should take some advice here and step up their preservation techniques, and recognize at what point a conservator like Loughridge is necessary.
