Legendary Trolls: Frankie Feetsplinter

Danish sculptor Thomas Dambo’s troll army invasion of Washington and Oregon was completed in 2023 with the installation of six troll sculptures in a series known as Way of the Bird King. Now the task falls to us art fans to play the troll hunter, seeking out our new visitors and thinking about what they mean. 

Frankie Feetsplinter in front of the Nordic Museum

The Evergreen Echo

Frankie Feetsplinter, the final of the Dambo installations, is perhaps the most conspicuous thanks to its urban setting in Ballard outside the National Nordic Museum. Is Frankie merely a fun photo op or are there interesting mythological themes worth exploring?

Notably, Dambo’s six now mingle with prominent native trolls such as the Fremont bridge troll and Buoy, the sea troll mascot of the Kraken hockey team. It’s only natural to wonder if there’s something inherently trolly about our region. The short answer is: Absolutely. 

First, it’s common sense to nail down what a troll is exactly. A family of mythological beings of Northern European Norse and Germanic cultures, the world of trolls is far more complex and varied than the big dumb ogre-like characters in The Hobbit or Harry Potter—although plenty of trolls in the old stories are big, dumb, and ogre-like. But other trolls are small, gnome-like, mischievous troublemakers that mess with one’s chickens. Others like the huldra or nøkken appear like attractive would-be-lovers to lure wayward humans to their deaths in the swamp or forests. Bottom line, looking into trolls is like diving into an expansive old Northern European-themed Marvel cinematic universe. 

Trolls are almost always closely associated with the Earth, often standing as a sort of manifestation of its environment. A troll in a swamp rises from the muck, its very body made of rotten logs and hanging mosses. When a giant mountain troll dies, it may literally become a granite rock face, a dramatic overhang its nose. Encountering a troll is inherently a tango with the raw power of nature itself. Whether the forest siren huldra eats or falls in love with you is a signifier on one’s relationship to the wilderness. It’s interesting to note that “trolldom” in Nordic countries is meant as a school of folk magic.

Usually, but not always, the troll is an antagonistic, powerful foe to the protagonist. One can rarely overpower the troll who is prone to domineering covetousness of land, possessions, and human romantic prospects. Treasure hoarding. A prince or prince’s hand in marriage. A kingdom. Refusing passage across a bridge.

While the troll may seem immovable or unstoppable at first, the protagonist prevails thanks to their quick thinking and exploitation of a dire weakness. Often the way to defeat the troll involves a Christian-coded virtue, such as rejecting a sinful option or utilizing Christian magic counters like prayer or church bells. One bests a troll with one’s quick-thinking mind and good soul—unless you’re a god like Thor, in which case troll bashing is recreation.

In addition to a troll’s innate relationship with the land and a generally antagonistic to humans bent, trolls almost always represent anti-civilization. They are steeped in primal heathenish ways and wild, lawless natures. Besting a troll in a story often mirrors a protagonist’s quest for establishing a righteous order. Trolls tend to have a consumptive relationship with us, seeing humans as sources of food, wealth, and romantic desire. A typical way to beat a troll is to find out where he’s hidden his heart or confidently resisting generous gifts as part of a marriage proposal.

So with this troll context in mind, what are we to make of Frankie Feetsplinters from an artistic, mythological perspective? Thomas Dambo has posited us this lore:

“Frankie Feetsplinter is in front of the National Nordic Museum. It is one of the few Trolls which has come out of the forest to an urban environment. Frankie is the youngest and most irresponsible of all the Trolls in Way of the Bird King. It was built on Vashon Island and transported via ferry and installed a few days before its inauguration.”

So we have a youthful, impetuous character on our hands. The brash invasion into the city from the forest differentiates him from his fellow Way of the Bird King kin. His stance—crushing a bench under his foot with two open, ready-for-action hands at his hips—seems to invite a challenge. Yet his demeanor is not overtly hostile and resembles more of a teenager's defiance. He seems possessive of the National Nordic Museum, posted at the entrance like a guard. Like the royal guards at Buckingham Palace, passersby and visitors are drawn to him to pose for pictures and make memories.

There is a stanza about Frankie as part of the installation:

Frankie don’t like slimy fish, cause fishes are all so dumb

And Frankie don’t like little humans, humans are so dumb

Frankie don’t even like trolls, cause trolls are also dumb

But Frankie’s mouth’s the only one that says the word of dumb

One can interpret this in all kinds of ways, but the stanza seems to confirm Frankie’s persona as a youthful, brash kind of troll. There’s an implication here of the angsty teen calling his peers dumb, but the last line implies that he might lack the intellectual bona fides for his critiques to mean much. The pot is calling the kettle black.

Regardless, his intrusion into the urban setting ultimately is a challenge, perhaps a show of strength from the forest to humble us. Mother Nature is still powerful.

Defiant Frankie stepping on a bench

The Evergreen Echo

When examined fully, Frankie Feetsplinter could be interpreted as a classic troll archetype. Frankie is confrontational, maybe pretentious, and somewhat antagonistic—albeit relatively harmless. He is infused with youthful recklessness, a trait that fuels his urban romp into Ballard. By boldly standing at the museum’s entrance and decrying all around him as dumb, while simultaneously revealing his own stupidity, he ironically draws the humans he looks down upon to him and into the museum.

The way to “best him” is to take a fun, disarming pose in front of him for a picture and do the smart thing—visit the museum. Perhaps there’s a bit of a joke in there; the troll calling everyone outside a museum dumb, yet never entering the museum himself to learn things. Laughing at him instead of being fearful would be a weakness to exploit in a Frankie Feetsplinter folk story.

Or not! Interpretations of art are fun, but there’s nothing wrong with just wanting a selfie in front of a big troll.