Plains Art Museum

Although meeting Wes Cowan and chatting with him was a blast, the ultimate purpose of the Trash or Treasure events were to get the full Antiques-Roadshow-treatment for the things we didn’t know anything about.   Finding those items turned out to be the most difficult part for us:  while D and I aren’t the most focused of collectors, there’s very little in our house that we’re missing information on.   A few pieces here and there, but if it can be researched we’ve already done the footwork.   We were both surprised and satisfied that Cowan and his peers access the same resources as the rest of us, so it meant we were down to just the ’stumpers’ when it came to the appraisal fair.

We actually had two occasions for Cowan and Farnand to view our mystery items.   First was Friday night, at the VIP dinner.  Fine foods were catered by the museum cafe’s resident chef, local media hob-nobbed, and Cowan gave a short speech before reviewing the items on the front table.

Like last year, there were a lot of nice items, but none of the “$10,000-surprise” variety.  Cowan was, as every time we heard him speak, both charming and unhesitatingly honest.   One of the first items he picked was a European painting that the owner believed was at least a century old.   They learned, however, that while the frame had the darker patina of older wood, the painting’s stretcher was quite new, maybe a few decades old, and the painting itself was most likely a souvenir reproduction of an Italian master.   Another person brought a small reproduction of Whistler’s Mother, and was pleased to find out they paid the right price for it:  three dollars.    19th century books had quality issues and were of minimal value.  A — honestly quite beautiful — carved wood Italian table suffered from being stripped and repaired without a conservator’s touch.

The next day, we spoke briefly with Sue Petry, Public Information Manager for the Plains Art Museum and the coordinator behind the Trash or Treasure event, and she said she had been quite worried over the poor valuations that came out of the V.I.P. Event, concerned that the people who brought their antiques would be disappointed or offended at being told their stuff was not worth much.  Petry was reassured Saturday morning when the woman with the not-so-antique Italian painting was back with something else to glean Cowan’s opinion about.  Much of the entertainment of the V.I.P. appraisal night was Cowan’s friendly handling of the lack of value in some of the items.   He kept the event light and cheerful, without making the owner feel small for bringing in something of minimal value.   An antique book — missing quite a few pages — was worth more than a few jokes from Cowan and kept the audience laughing, including the book’s owner who shared a table with D and myself.  Everyone who brought items in seemed to have more than enjoyed themselves, regardless of the price tag put on their collectible.

As I said, Deanna and I had some difficulty coming up with what to bring to the V.I.P. appraisal fair.  D brought a small 19th century piece of advertising ephemera that Cowan couldn’t add much to what she already knew about it.   I brought in a selection from my 1930s A.O.U.W films, which Cowan said might have a marginal financial worth, but the Library of Congress would probably be quite happy to borrow from me for archival purposes.  While we both enjoyed ourselves at the event, we wanted to bring things to the general-public appraisal fair that would be less of a stumper for Cowan.

Wes Cowan seemed to have more to say about the paintings and artwork at the V.I.P. event, so D and I picked several pieces of art to bring.   Cowan also had commented that folk art was one of his recent favorites, so that also made us adjust our selections.   We picked a silk-and-watercolor piece of Japanese art, a relatively-rare paint-by-number of a bear walking along a mountain road, and the woolie D brought to last years’ Trash or Treasure.

Sue Petrie of the Plains Art Museum also said she was surprised and pleased with the turnout for the Saturday public appraisal fair.    Last year, we arrived a little late and had no trouble getting in line, but this year we had a nearly two-hour wait to get our funky art underneath Cowan’s nose.   We occupied our time with the charity rummage sale, and chit-chatting in the museum cafe.   When our number came up, however, we were ready to take what Cowan had to say about our art.

The first thing he said was, “this is where you’re supposed to say, ‘are you tired of seeing us?’” to myself and D, turning on that wit that we’d seen the previous days.   We knew we weren’t going to hear huge prices from Cowan, but were hoping for more information than anything.     He started with the Japanese silk, and said it was not as finely done as classical Japanese silk-work, but was probably a post-WWII souvenir, and definitely worth around the seventy-five cents we paid for it, give or take a dollar.    When he came to the paint-by-number, he was impressed that we had found the manufacturer, model number, and title: “you know more about this stuff than I do,” was Cowan’s response, which, of course, D is going to get printed on a t-shirt for next time she goes rummaging.

When he got to the woolie we were a little surprised, but it resolved some thoughts we had from the year before.   The Ivey-Selkirk appraiser said the woolie probably dated from the 1930s to 1950s, which the wood stretcher would indicate, but I had thought the materials looked newer and D also thought the style wasn’t as detailed or well-done as other period woolies.  Cowan pointed out that the color and style of the burlap back was very 1960s or 1970s, and his opinion was that the art was done by an amateur as a basic art project using whatever materials they had at hand.  While it moved it to the edge of being called a “woolie,” it is still a piece of amateur folk art, and his price wasn’t too far off of the Ivey-Selkirk appraisal from the year before.

All-in-all, the Plains Art Museum did an excellent job of hosting an enjoyable series of presentations, speeches, dinners, and events, bringing a little chunk of Antiques-Roadshow-style fun or our northern part of the nation.  Everyone we met had fun seeing what an actual History Detective had to say about their show-and-tell selections.  We’re already looking forward to next year!

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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Gotta Collect? Then You Gotta Connect – Join our Collectors’ Community!

This week, the Plains Art Museum in Fargo, ND, hosted Trash or Treasure, a collectibles-themed fundraiser for the museum. Ivey-Selkirk, an auction house from Saint Louis, Missouri, performed appraisal services in an “Antiques Roadshow” style, open to the public to bring in their treasured items, that weird thing they inherited from Aunt Mabel, or whatever they might be curious about. D and I, of course, fall in the last category. As general-purpose collectors, we’ve got a pretty good handle on the value of our own items (fact: most is worth very little — but we make up for it in volume), but we did manage to come up with a few things in need of a professional opinion.

The first night of the event was a Front-Of-The-Line reception, a $50-a-ticket meet-and-greet to chit-chat with the appraisers and museum staff, and try out some fine eats from Mosaic Foods. The Plains Art Museum is a beautiful building, a renovated International Harvester warehouse in Downtown Fargo, retaining its early-plains charm with lots of exposed wood and brick-work. The building’s charm is an excellent place to show off antiques.

We attended, hesitantly trying exotic hors-dourves and unhesitatingly chatting with museum president Ed Pauley, whom we met a the MPMA convention a few weeks ago. Once everyone got comfortable, Malcolm Ivey of Ivey-Selkirk was introduced to the group, and the appraisals began.

For this Front-of-the-Line appraisal, each attendee was encouraged to bring one item for appraisal. D and I fretted quite a while about what to bring: we’ve got some items with a little higher value than the rummage sale stuff we love so, but we wanted to take something that we had no idea of the value. D brought a folk-art-piece she got this past weekend at Georgine’s (which she’ll write about later), and I brought my collection of 20th Century Fox paperwork.

The 20th Century Fox paperwork, it turns out, isn’t supposed to be owned by me. Fox is currently working on getting it back from me (we’re still in negotiations). You see, Fox had lent it to the University of Southern California in the 1940s…but never got it back. Somehow the stolen paperwork made its way to Wisconsin, where I purchased it a few years ago and put it online for sale. Fox discovered it, and promptly contacted us to arrange its return to their archives. This, on its own, made me interested in finding out what an auction house would think of such an item. The one-of-a-kind nature brought a lot of attention from the appraisers, who had glanced at it before the event, and wanted to know more about it.

Terry Bye was the appraiser with the most paper and ephemera experience, so we waited patiently until he could devote some time to the Fox scrapbook. He initially started with a low figure – around what I paid for it, so I didn’t feel too torn about it, but as I flipped through the book, page-by-page, showing more and more of the thorough catalog of Fox paperwork, the appraisal price grew until it was just over what I had been asking for online. I was pleased to hear that my valuation instinct was correct, and I enjoyed talking to the appraisers. They, of course, had never seen anything like it before, and the fact that the collection would not be legal for the auction house to try and sell on my behalf was a treat for them to examine.

On Day Two the appraisal fair was open to the public: $5 admission, plus $20 for the first appraisal and $10 for each thereafter. We were disappointed to see the line short and attendance low, but this gave us more of an opportunity to chat with the appraisers and other collectors. I stopped to talk to Steve Kranstover, who had just been talking to Mr. Bye about his collection of photos. Kranstover was looking for a price on his collection of ephemera belonging to Albert Forseth. Forseth, at age 19 in 1913, invented a propellor-driven snowmobile, joined the Army Air Corp in WWI, started a barnstorming “flying circus” upon returning to the states, and later raced powerboats on various Minnesota lakes. Kranstover’s collection contains an amaing set of photos, news-clippings, and personal correspondence from Forseth’s life – which, of course, had me drooling, but Kranstover was interested in selling to a collector, aviation or otherwise, who will appreciate the collection for its historical value (if you’re interested, I can connect you with Kranstover).We originally didn’t intend to bring anything for the Day Two appraisals, but we had such fun at the early-bird appraisal the night before that we had to bring something more. We elected some more traditional collectibles: an oil painting, a numbered lithograph (she’ll also write about that later), and an antique chair.

My painting, acquired at a Columbia, Missouri flea-market ten years ago for $12, isn’t signed, requires some restoration, but appraiser Susan Kime said its quality and age should still make it worth a few hundred dollars.

Wifey brought in her little boudoir chair. This chair is one of the items for which D has paid the most money for — a whopping $25, which did not please her first husband. In typical collector-scorned fashion, once they split she got the piece reupholstered (with some lovely vintage fabric she just happened to have laying around); now she was curious what it was worth… Terry Bye said it was an early 20th century piece, English Regency style, but American made, with a Hitchcock style. He said it was a lovely antique chair, worth around $250 to $300 — which not only makes the chair worthy of being auctioned by Ivey-Selkirk (they normally do not ‘do’ chairs under $100) but makes the boudoir chair too grand for me to be allowed to toss my pants over (and D, vindicated over her purchase, near insufferable to live with). D was lucky enough to be caught by a camera crew from UND, meaning her and her chair may soon appear on Studio One.After our appraisals, as the event wound down, we sat down with Malcolm Ivey from the auction house, and chatted a bit about their part in the fundraising event. Ivey said their auction house performs these events on a regular basis, a few times a year as schedules allow, to help museums and other non-profits raise funds. In the past, they’d been asked to perform as auctioneer at the traditional ‘charity auctions’ that had once been a mainstay of fundraising. In recent years, however, these have become less successful, so Ivey-Selkirk took cues from Antiques Roadshow and the appeal of their own in-house appraisal fairs and began performing simple appraisal events for charity. Fargo is the furthest event away from their home in Saint Louis, but they’ve enjoyed themselves. The entire 5-person appraisal team are employees of Ivey-Selkirk, each with their own training and specialty. Ivey said that he was surprised at the minimal amount of jewelry they had seen – it’s more transportable than furniture and pottery – but he said they had seen an interesting variety of items while they were in town. The stuff that is brought in to appraisal events tend to be on the ‘lower’ end – from an auction-house standard, who rarely handles items worth less than a few hundred dollars – because those who have high-value items tend to already have an idea of the value, Ivey said. Now that the auction season is ramping up, he said, these events will fit into their schedule less, but next summer he expects to do more in the midwest.The Plains Art Museum provided a lovely, well-staffed ‘item check’ to hold our valuables as we parused the rest of the building, so went to the Trash or Treasure rummage sale (which is also held today, from 1-5) on the third floor. The Museum requested their supporters donate items of value to be sold to benefit the Museum. Items ranged from usual rummage-sale fare like cassette players and housewares, but also included some works by local artists and various art prints. Wifey bought a few more books to add to our already buckling shelves.

The whole event was wonderful and we do hope the museum runs it again next year. Certainly we (and you!) will be talking about it for a long time, which will make everyone want to attend. That will make the lines longer, but we’ll be there nonetheless. It’s too much fun to pass up.