Sometimes I find an unexplored museum catalogue online, and I spend hours scrolling through its toy collection. It’s a fiddly affair, especially when it is written in a language and a script that I am not familiar with, involving a great deal of automatic translation and reading between the lines, joining the dots, and then going off and attempting to find other references that match or are related.

Toys are frequently tiny objects and, more often than not, a single marble or toy soldier will be inventoried under its own number, which means there are sometimes tens of thousands of records to browse. Most of these records in museums are relatively unremarkable in the sense that they tend to be objects with which we are familiar and of which we have seen many examples. One might say that looking through them involves a strange, possibly mildly deranged, kind of patience.

I had been quietly and absentmindedly clicking through hundreds of toy records on the National Museum of Taiwan History website when I reached this guy and guffawed. It is difficult to pinpoint what makes a design hit the mark – its proportions, the layout of facial features, the appropriate dose of humour, and perhaps, crucially, the way it makes you feel when you look at it.

This looks like a cheap, mass-produced toy, possibly even a free gift that came with another product, judging by its size (approx. 3 cm wide, 9 cm tall). Cheap or not, it is hard not to break into a smile when you look at him, and I would say it takes a special kind of talent to get it just right like this. A long list of good choices were made, from the crossed eyes, the curled moustache, and the spring in his belly – which presumably makes him wobble as he holds the barbell high above his shoulders (you can almost hear his ‘Nyyyyyyumph!’ from moments before as he strained to pick it up and then regretted it, judging by his face) –, down to his Humpty Dumpty shape and his ridiculous round feet.  

There is very little information provided on him, beyond being made post-1945 (‘after World War II’) out of plastic and a metal spring, and I have been unable to find any other image of a toy like him on the Internet. The museum has a large collection of McDonalds Happy Meal toys, and I did wonder whether this might be one (here I will own up to the fact that my heart briefly sank) but having looked closely, I cannot see any signs of the logo on the different photographs provided, or any other similar Happy Meal toys, so it seems unlikely.

He brings to mind quite a few references, including the Mr. Potato Head toys and, of course, the Slinky. I had been under the impression, mistakenly, that the Slinky Dog that appears in the film Toy Story was an entirely fictional toy, but old Slinky ads also include a dog, a caterpillar, an elephant, a train, and a kitten – take a look at this one, dating back to the 1960s, according to the Slinky Toys Youtube channel (it looks quite early).

Our strongman here also made me think of the versatility of springs in toys – they can be pieces in mechanical toys, but they can also simply be the toy. Think of a jack-in-the-box, trampolines, pogo sticks (take a look at this fantastic video from 1962 in Weybridge, UK, showing kids oiling their sticks and jumping around on them), 1950s ‘moon shoes’), or spring riders in playgrounds today. The movement they create is inherently fun.  

I was glad to hit on something else he reminded me of: Emeraldo, the acrobat / strongman in Tove Jansson’s Moomins. Emeraldo is a great character, who tags behind the famously beautiful, vain, and bossy Miss Laguna (aka Primadonna, for a while the subject of Moomintroll’s infatuation, much to Snorkmaiden’s dismay), and performs tricks for her whenever she requests them. Emeraldo confesses that he is starting to get a little fed up with having to do this, and only does so because he is scared of her – in fact, what he really wants is to be left alone and in peace. Jansson is always wonderfully funny when she portrays characters showing vanity or bossiness, but I think I especially enjoy it when characters get fed up with one another and need to get away and find a little refuge for themselves. Perhaps I see a bit of Emeraldo in this guy, who looks slightly shy. Did the spring accidentally ping out of nowhere when he lifted the barbell? Is he feeling self-conscious and a little exposed?

I had a look at the origins of the strongman aesthetic, with the twisty moustache we all recognise, and found out a bit about its prime symbols. Perhaps the world’s most famous moustachioed strongman is Eugen Sandow, known as the father of bodybuilding – take a look at this wonderful shot from the bodybuilding magazine he founded himself, where he appears in fetching leopard-skin briefs. There is also some great footage of him filmed on March 6, 1894 in Thomas Edison’s Black Maria Studio, striking some of his wonderful signature poses. [I found out that, a few months later in November of that same year, Edison filmed sharpshooter Annie Oakley – of Buffalo Bill fame – shooting her gun in the studio. You can take a look here, Edison’s studio seems like a fascinating place].  

I quite like this sort of unassuming toy; some might look at it as a perfect example of a throwaway plastic toy, but there is something to be said for the intention behind it. I know I would have loved it as a child, and indeed would still enjoy having one now. There is something about the way he looks ridiculous that is accurate and recognisable – I have certainly felt the way he looks, several times this year.

Let’s give him a little nudge to see if his funny stick legs buckle under the weight. Hang in there.