He had the coolest bike I ever saw. Festooned with flags and ornaments, an assortment of tin cans and horns, and all kinds of metal shaped and placed at odd angles, the bike was a living, rolling work of art and one of David Butler’s prized possessions.
Later he’d become internationally recognized as an American original—a folk artist of the highest caliber—but it was his bike that I remember most about the Tin Man. Later he’d become internationally recognized as an American original—a folk artist of the highest caliber—but it was his bike that I remember most about the Tin Man.
The story of the Tin Man has its roots in the small town of Patterson, Louisiana, which at the turn of the twentieth century was known as the Cypress Capital of the world, boasting three different lumber yards which delivered sturdy and long-long-lasting wood all over the country.
At first glance, Patterson may seem an unlikely place to produce an artist whose “outsider” art now sells for thousands of dollars. But if you dig deeply, you begin to understand that it was exactly his surroundings and his upbringing in this south Louisiana town best known for strong lumber, sweet sugar cane, and soaring aviation history that could mold an artist with David Butler’s style and imagination.
He was born the son of a carpenter father and deeply religious mother, and it is evident that this background shaped his later artistic creations. After a job-related incident left him unable to work, Butler, who could neither read nor write, turned to making simple, colorful sculptures to express his creativity.
Because the main ingredient in his artwork was metal, he became known as the Tin Man around town, and like his namesake in The Wizard of Oz, David “Tin Man” Butler was always in search of something. But instead of a heart, Patterson’s Tin Man was in search of his dreams—those nightly visions that came to him just before and during sleep that he felt compelled to bring to life using common materials not known for their artistic value.
The unconventional materials he used included metal, wood, wire, chalk or crayon, plastic, twine, and leftover house paint. He worked and molded these materials together using a meat cleaver, hammer, and axe head. His designs are colorful, dream-like, and kinetic. What first started out as simple animals and objects later broadened into whimsical three-dimensional creations that showcased a deeper sense of intellect and ingenuity.
Butler’s work is generally grouped together in the category known by collectors as “South African Yard Art,” which is heavily influenced by a person’s geographical location and cultural environment. Unlike other types of art which utilize precise patterns and structural design elements, folk art is more like jazz, free flowing and unique to its creator. It is often called Outsider Art, and in that regard, David Butler exemplified the title. His art was proudly displayed on the outside of his house so, as he explained, he “can look out over his works of beauty.” Very much the product of his surroundings, it was said that much of the tin that he used in his art were scraps given to him by children around town or from left-over metal salvaged and donated from the airport.
David first came to the attention of the artistic world after some of his work appeared in a 1982 exhibition held in New Orleans called Black Folk Art in America: 1930-1980. Later, his work reached a broader audience because of Yale historian Robert Farris Thompson who wrote extensively about American Folk Art. Today, David Butler’s work hangs in a number of museums, including the American Folk Art Museum in New York City.
When he died in 1997 at the age of 99, his greatest achievement may have been the way his work illuminated how everything—all that makes up our surroundings, and every person, regardless of race, background, or education—has merit and value. Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder; especially a beholder with talent this big. A genuine outsider until the end, it seems that now years after his death, his talent is finally being justly recognized and treasured. I guess it takes the rest of the world a little time to catch up with the outsider and let him in.
I think he would have found it remarkably satisfying to know that in the books about Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz written by L. Frank Baum, the Tin Man became the emperor of Winkie Country and constructed a palace made entirely of tin, including the very flowers in the garden; beauty that he could look out over daily, without worry of decay. Like the fictional Tin Man, Butler was a man on a mission to create something beautiful out of his surroundings.
It is said that a prophet is never truly accepted in his hometown. It would seem that the same is often true with an artist, especially one with a singular talent like David Butler. He was an ordinary man with an extraordinary view of the world.
But to many of us who knew him all our lives, he was simply an old man with a cool bike.
Kent J. Landry is a freelance writer who hails from the same hometown as David Butler. In addition to Country Roads, his work has appeared in Louisiana Life Magazine, The Acadiana Profile, and 225 magazine.
