Bark painting in Connecting Cultures. Bamboo, palm spathes, paint. X579.

After being exposed to a range of uncontrolled environments—first on the gables of a ceremonial house in tropical Papua New Guinea, then in the drier conditions of the Museum—the paint layer had become unstable, making the work too fragile to stand upright.  This is due to an inherent incompatibility of materials: as humidity changes the bark expands and contracts to a greater degree than the paint, causing it to crack and separate.

Old photos in the object’s conservation folder showed it in even worse condition, with paint tenting and curling. In 1979 conservators had treated this by consolidating the work with dilute methyl cellulose, a plant-derived adhesive. While this treatment made the work stable enough for horizontal storage over 30 years ago, it was in no state for exhibition.

1979 photograph showing detail of lifting paint. Credit: B. Appelbaum.

To complicate matters for us, the surface had grown very dusty in storage. It is tricky to clean such a fragile surface, but it must be done prior to consolidation to avoid trapping the dust.

Cleaning with a cosmetic sponge.

Our secret weapon for this was available at our local drugstore: cosmetic wedges. Highly porous and super-soft, these polyurethane sponges pick up dust without damaging the loose and brittle paint.

Once the surface was clean, we began testing consolidants—adhesives to secure the paint. When introducing a new material to an art object, conservators always need to balance aesthetics with longevity. We chose a specially processed methyl cellulose that satisfied both these goals—A) it didn’t dramatically change the sheen or gloss of the surface, as many consolidants do, and B) it is known to age well with the consolidant applied in the 1970s (also a methyl cellulose). We applied it at a high concentration with an air brush, strengthening the paint layer. Then, using a tiny heated spatula, we set down lifting paint flakes – bonding them to the bark.  The paint now had enough integrity to withstand the pull of gravity in a vertical orientation.

Consolidating with air brush, paint wet with consolidant.

The painting had also suffered a wound: in the bottom right corner was a gaping hole. The bark around the hole was curling: we had to flatten it to effectively bridge the gap. We used Goretex—a material developed by the sports industry that is waterproof yet breathable— to gently introduce water vapor to the distorted areas. This humidification softened the bark enough to allow us to flatten it and mend the hole with a bridge of toned, archival tissue.

Left: Hole before treatment. Right: Hole after treatment.

Now clean, much flatter, and hanging high in the galleries, the work more closely resembles its bold original incarnation. And, most importantly, it is now exhibited in a climate-controlled environment, ensuring a long-lasting bond between paint and bark.

An Islamic tile panel from Damascus, Syria (39.407.1-54) underwent extensive conservation for the installation.  Previously the tiles had been assembled, set into concrete, and put into the wall of the Islamic Galleries.   Losses and cracks were filled with plaster and painted a flat, medium brown.  A common restoration for the early 20^th century, this resulted in a panel that weighed over 800 pounds!

After Treatment, Panel of Tiles, 16th-17th c, Damascus, Syria, Gift of Alan Devereux, 37.409.1-.54

Since this structure was so cumbersome, the tiles were removed from the cement backing.  We used a power saw to cut them apart along the grout lines, carefully avoiding the tiles, and then cleaved them from their backings.

Tiles were separated from the backing by inserting a chisel into air pockets between the tile and the cement after the tiles were cut out of the panel with a power saw (39.407.27)

After all of the old restorations were removed, we examined the tiles. Variations in technical characteristics between tiles indicated they could be from different sources.  Many were broken and a few had smaller fragments of similar tiles inserted into losses.  Several numbering systems were on the backs of the tiles and some were higher than the 48 tiles that existed in our construction, suggesting that the panel may originally have been larger.

These observations made us consider how the tiles should be displayed.   Rearranging, cutting, and inserting fragments of mismatched tiles to make the pattern continuous had been widespread techniques for reconstructing tile panels, but was the current condition an accurate reflection of how the panel would have originally looked?  Would leaving it fragmentary with missing tiles ruin the aesthetic?

In a previous restoration, fragments were inserted into trimmed tiles to create a complete tile. Here, the pattern is the same, but doesn’t quite match (39.407.46, .50)

We decided that all the tiles and fragments would be included in the new display. Tiles would be individually mounted without grout or restorations.  The effect was that they would be separate objects, but each an integral part of a larger collection.  This also allowed for changes that cement and mortar does not—tiles can be removed, displayed and examined separately without having to disturb the entire panel.

Art handlers perform a test hanging of the tiles before installing them in the galleries.

In creating this new mount, we were faced with another challenge:  the panel would be installed over 6 feet above the floor.  The mount would need to be easy and safe for installation, but satisfy concerns about the appearance.  The tiles were mounted in columns on to backing boards, so that eight tiles could be installed at a time.  When the boards were pushed together, they created the entire panel.

The newly conserved Islamic tile panel is in the “Connecting Places” section of Connecting Cultures.  Tell us what you think! Were we successful in presenting a complete object?  Do you miss the cement and grout of a traditional tile panel? Can you see the inserted fragments?  Do the losses detract from the overall appearance?

Look for conservators and other Museum staff serving as “connectors” in the gallery to find out more about the objects in the installation.

As a conservator working with each of these artists, the sometimes conflicting working methods and points of perspective were a challenge to manage while remaining flexible.  Conservators work within a set of principles, such as light is damaging too many artworks, handling should be kept to a minimum, and the interior environment can often be hazardous to the preservation of artifacts.  Conservators need to have great hand skills, have an attention to detail, be creative problem solvers, and above all else, respect the object.  Artists work within another set of principles.  Everything is significant, details matter, experience must be illuminated, and all objects and materials can be put towards this purpose.  Creativity is grand and ever changing and needs continuous feeding.

Do you see how there could be some conflict here?

Many of the period rooms were installed in the 1950’s and 60’s when museum best practices were much less formulated than they are today.  The condition of the objects having been on continuous display since that time are often fragile and unknown as museum condition records were not what they are today.  The first step in preparing for the installation was to get an overall plan from each artist as to what their intervention into the rooms would be.   What did I say about creativity being grand and ever changing?  The Curators did their best to wrangle broad concepts from the artists, and the Registrars compiled lists of the items coming and did their best to make sure that everything arrived safely and was accounted for.

Mary Lucier works with her team to film in the Dining Room of the Nicholas Schenck House.

The installation worked a bit differently for each artist.  Mary Lucier with a video component needed access to the Schenck rooms well in advance of the other artists.  The challenge was to prepare the rooms, and safeguard the collection while having actors, props, and the artist filming within the often cramped and tightly installed space.   The plan of what to film was fluid and responsive to events as they happened.  This meant that the conservator working with the artist needed to also be fluid and responsive to allow space for creativity while setting appropriate limits and boundaries.

Betty Woodman works with art handlers to install her ceramics in the Hall of the Cupola House.

Betty Woodman and Ann Chu proved challenging in that it was impossible to know which collection objects would work well with the artist’s objects until the artist arrived and began to arrange in each room; Cane Acres, Rockefeller, Russell, Cupola, Worgelt, and two dioramas.  The difficulty was assessing on the spot whether a collection object could safely interact with the artist’s object.  Is that vase too heavy for this piece of furniture?  Is the ceramic cup stable on the period table?

Anne Chu works with art handlers to install her work in the Moorish Room of the John D. Rockefeller House.

Ann Agee’s was the most labor intensive installation.  The artist made several pre-visits to the Milligan rooms as part of formulating what she wanted to transform the room into.  Discussions about what was and was not impossible to remove from the room were fruitful.  The compromises fed the creative process.  With this installation, Ann much like a conservator had to be a creative problem solver too.

Ann Agee works with art handlers to install her work in the Library and Drawing Room of the Milligan House.

I think the experience in the end was fruitful for all and that the activations spark new illuminations on your experience.

Recto, normal illumination, before treatment. Portrait of a Man, 19th century. Opaque watercolor on paper, with frame: 21 1/4 x 17 1/4 x 1 1/4 in. (54 x 43.8 x 3.2 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Bequest of Dr. Bertram H. Schaffner, 2010.48.60

Following the identification of its materials, a condition assessment was carried out with the aid of a stereomicroscope (for low magnification) and illumination techniques to accentuate features of the piece that are not visible in plain sight.

Detail of upper recto, raking illumination, before treatment. Portrait of a Man (2010.48.60)

At the time of condition assessment, the piece was in poor condition. There were dents and abrasions, but the most disfiguring problem was an uneven, yellowed coating on the image. While the coating was thin and spotty in some areas, it was thick and cracked in others. I took a look under the stereomicroscope and noticed that this coating was strong and had pulled up pigment with it where it was cupped and cracked, mainly on the upper right corner. In addition extraneous white fibers attached to the surface coating were visible throughout the image and can clearly be seen in raking illumination (light source coming from one side). It is thought these fibers became entrapped during a previous and unsuccessful restoration attempt to swell and reduce the coating by rubbing it with cotton.

Recto, UVA-induced visible fluorescence, before treatment. Portrait of a Man (2010.48.60)

I also examined the piece under long-wave ultraviolet (UV-A) irradiation, which brings out other features that are not evident to the naked eye. A mottled orange-yellow fluorescence coincided with the yellowed coating that was visible in plain sight. Also, the upper right corner of the image was absorbant to UV-A irradiation, which is a common reaction of modern materials under UV-A. At this point, an educated guess made me believe that the fibers embedded in the surface and the loss of media (watercolor) and overpaint on the upper right corner were most likely the result of a failed attempt to remove the coating with cotton and restoring the color.

After discussing the treatment plan with the curator, Joan Cummins, it was decided that the main goal was to minimize only the most distracting damages affecting the readability of the image. I proceeded with chemical spot testing to determine the solubility of the coating.

Localized testing using 100% ethanol and 100% deionized water was done to test the solubility of the coating. The coating did not swell with ethanol; it swelled with deionized water. Since natural resins are insoluble in water and soluble in alcohol and other organic solvents, I could eliminate dammar or shellac as the coating. As the coating did swell with water, it suggested a gum or glue material. A tiny sample of the coating was taken for technical analysis with the Biuret test. The results indicated that the coating is protein-based and thus probably an animal glue (i.e. adhesive derived from animal tissues). Ironically, water can also solubilize the gum Arabic binder in watercolors. This represented a limiting factor for removing the fibers on the surface as well as reducing the thicker and discolored areas of the coating. However, the application of a small amount of water would not disturb the original media if readily blotted from the surface. I brushed deionized water on the white fibers, removed them with a dry brush, and lightly blotted the surface.

Recto, normal illumination, after treatment. Portrait of a Man, 19th century. Opaque watercolor on paper, with frame: 21 1/4 x 17 1/4 x 1 1/4 in. (54 x 43.8 x 3.2 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Bequest of Dr. Bertram H. Schaffner, 2010.48.60

The small areas showing flaking of the paint layer needed to be secure in place and flattened as much as possible before reducing the coating. I applied a suitable consolidant (an adhesive) under the flaking coating and carefully flattened the cupped and cracked areas with a microspatula. When the paint was reattached and secure, I thinned the areas of thick coating mechanically using a scalpel, while viewing under the stereomicroscope. Our main goal was accomplished, making way for the completion of other steps in this treatment, like mending minor tears, and filling and inpainting small losses of support.

Portrait of a Man will be on view until May 2012, so don’t miss the rotation!

Jakki Godfrey, objects conservator adjusting leaves on Sanford Biggers, Blossom, 2010.

Blossom is a mixed-media installation depicting a life-size sculpture of an oak tree extending out of the ground and through a real baby grand piano. A MIDI (Musical Instrument Digital Interface) player piano system programmed to play the artist’s original arrangement of the American jazz standard “Strange Fruit” comprises the sound element of the installation.

The conservation of a contemporary mixed media art installation such as Blossom is challenging;  not only do the physical materials (epoxy, wood, dirt, etc.) require preservation but consideration must also be given to the variable media component (MIDI) as well as documenting its installation for future generations.

When the work first arrived at the museum it, like more traditional artworks, was examined and construction and condition issues were documented.  As is typical with recent contemporary art acquisitions a questionnaire was sent to the artist to ascertain information such as what materials were used in its construction, how the object should be installed and what the artist deems as important to the preservation of the piece.  With Blossom, I was able to discuss these issues with the artist directly in front of his piece.  During these discussions it was found that the MIDI system was not working correctly and needed to be replaced by professional piano technicians.   Additionally the artist determined that some subtleties of the music composition were not being recognized by the MIDI system and so came to the museum to rework the songs directly on Blossom.

Creating a set of installation instructions to be included in Blossom’s conservation file for use in future installations is of particular importance to its preservation.  Some of the following photos show conservators working with the art handling team during installation of the work for the upcoming exhibition. To begin, the separate components of the tree were put together. After it was assembled, conservator’s filled the seams between branches with Roma Plastilina, modeling clay. The fills were textured with silicone molds and inpainted to match the tree’s texture and color rendering the seams invisible.

Silk leaves were inserted into the branches and were steamed to release any wrinkles that accumulated during storage. Finishing touches included placing dirt around the base of the tree and placing the piano bench.

Detail of Book of the Dead of Sobekmose, #37.1777E, transmitted light.

One method of examination we use is the use of transmitted light, which is light which passes through a transparent material from one side to the other.  Transmitted light is very useful in understanding how a sheet of papyrus is made and therefore, how it fits back together.

Use of the microscope is another instrument which makes our work easier.  Under magnification, and in combination with transmitted light, we can see clearly what we are doing and this makes our repairs and placing of loose fragments more precise.  It’s important to make as few and as small repairs as possible in order to stabilize the piece so that as much as possible of the original papyrus is visible.

Some of the clues we look for when reattaching fragments include looking at the contour of the fragment.  It’s shape is more easily visible with transmitted light, and we can see where the edges of the fragment may fit in place.  In transmitted light one can also easily see the vertical and horizontal lines of the papyrus plant’s fiber bundles (these bring water and nutrients up to the top of stalk) which create a characteristic crisscross pattern when viewing the sheet. The orientation of these lines on a fragment tell us in which orientation the fragment should be placed—horizontal or vertical, since all fibers on one side of a roll will be in the same direction.

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Most importantly with magnification and transmitted light we can use these lines to place fragments.  At every join, there is a “fingerprint” pattern of lines which tells us if the fragment fits there and if so, exactly where.  If all the fibers on that particular fragment do not line up perfectly, it does not fit.

To join fragments, or make repairs, we use a kozo-fibered Japanese paper which we tint with acrylics or watercolors to the color the papyrus so that the repairs are visible but blend in.

Toned Japanese paper mend

Wheat starch paste is used to adhere the mends to the papyrus.  The paper is cut into small rectangles with a scissors.  (Normally the Japanese paper is torn so that the strength of its fibers are utilized; here we do not want the Japanese paper fibers to pull on the papyrus fibers if we need to remove the mend.)  Wheat starch paste is used because it does not change the papyrus and is reversible over time.

Pasting up a piece of Japanese paper with wheat starch paste and a small brush.

After we place the mend on the papyrus, we place a blotter on top of it to dry it out and a small weight to keep it flat while drying.

See brass weight over white blotter.

As a comparison, these two photographs show how a fragment will fit in place, viewed in normal light.

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Sometimes we see mends to the papyrus that were made in ancient times.  We’ll talk more about those cases in the next blog.

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This post is part of a series by Conservators and Curators on papyrus and in particular theBook of the Dead of the Goldworker of Amun, Sebekmose, a 24 foot long papyrus in the Brooklyn Museum’s collection. This unique papyrus currently in 8 large sections has never been exhibited due to condition. Thanks to a generous grant from the Leon Levy Foundation, the entire papyrus is now undergoing conservation treatment. The conservation work is expected to last until fall 2011 when all 8 sections will be exhibited together for the first time in the Mummy Chamber. As each section is conserved, it will join those already on exhibition until eventually the public will see the Book of the Dead in its entirety.

Map of damage reports from the New York Times.

What is a Disaster Plan? It is a written document outlining the procedures and policies that staff will follow in the event of various emergencies and disasters. The American Association of Museums requires that museums have this written document as part of becoming an accredited institution.

The museum does have such a document and in response to this quake professional staff—all conservators, registrars, collections manager, and the curators of each department—followed our disaster plan and performed a systematic check of objects in storage and on display. We are happy to report that we have nothing to report and no mishaps occurred.

For more information on disaster preparation as it relates to art collections go to the American Institute for Conservation and Heritage Preservation. Having a disaster plan is not only for Museums. NYC is encouraging all residents to have their own personal disaster plans. For more information about making your plan Ready NY go to their website.

Elvis Mask for Nyau Society, ca. 1977. Wood, paint, fiber, cloth, Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. J. Gordon Douglas III, Frederick E. Ossorio, and Elliot Picket, by exchange and Designated Purchase Fund, 2010.41

Brooklyn’s Elvis is a ceremonial mask of the Nyau Society of the Chewa peoples, who reside primarily in central Malawi.  The Nyau is a secret society that creates these masks for inclusion in ritualistic dances as part of initiation ceremonies, chief coronations and funerals. The masks often represent revered ancestral and animal spirits.  They also have satirical themes and occasionally depict famous foreigners as a means to provide education on social and cultural values. This unique incarnation of a western cultural icon highlights a fascinating interaction between western and non-western societies.

The mask is hand carved from a single piece of wood with the eyes, mouth and nostrils pierced through. The face is painted with a thick application of pink paint. Synthetic hair defines Elvis’ characteristic pompadour hairstyle and sideburns as well as the eyes and eyebrows.  Various textiles and burlap are attached around the neck.

Acquired by the Museum in 2010, Elvis wasn’t quite ready for the spotlight.  The hair had been infested with insects, painted areas were dirty and flaking, and the textiles, believed to be original to the mask, were in tatters.

Upon its arrival in the conservation lab, the mask was monitored to determine that live insects were not present, and then it was thoroughly groomed to remove old insect casings and debris. Painted surfaces were lightly cleaned and stabilized.  The textiles around the neck were reconstructed and secured around the bottom edge of the mask by stitching the original textile to a support backing of nylon netting—the same netting textile conservators use to stabilize our mummy collection.  The netting provides support for the original fabric without altering the appearance.

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The conservation of Elvis highlights how conservators approach the treatment of many ethnographic objects.  The mask was not restored to what it may have looked like when it was first made.  Instead, it was conserved to reflect the history of its use and to make it stable enough to be exhibited safely without further deterioration.

Elvis will be a featured in African Innovations opening August 12th—just in time for the 34th anniversary of the Elvis’ death.  So if you can’t make it to Graceland this year, stop by the Brooklyn Museum.

Works were brought into the Conservation Lab in late April.

Our time frame for conservation of the paintings was relatively short: images of the ~180 works were posted online in February and March. The data was assessed in April and 11 paintings were selected. Thus we had about 8 weeks prior to the exhibition to complete our examination of each painting and undertake any needed treatment and framing. We brought the works to the lab in late April for review.

A very common condition problem with Indian painting is paint instability. There are several reasons for this: these paintings are made from opaque watercolors, applied in many layers between burnishing and often thick dots of paint (impasto) are applied over the surface as decorative elements. These multiple layers and peaks of paint are subject to cracking, lifting and detaching.

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Photomicrograph showing small previous losses in the pink pigment as well as a lifting flake of white paint at the center.

Seven of the eleven works in Split Second had loose and flaking paint when examined inch by inch under the microscope. In this photomicrograph (left) you can see small previous losses in the pink pigment as well as a lifting flake of white paint at the center. Though it looks obvious at this magnification, paint instability is often only discovered with the aid of a microscope. If not secured, flaking paint can detach completely leaving a void. Usually the paint surrounding a void then becomes loose. Thus consolidation of loose and lifting paint using a variety of adhesives is critical.

Previous losses are usually accepted as part of the age of the painting in Indian miniature paints and the responsibility of Conservation is to prevent additional losses from occurring, rather than to cover up old losses. Sometimes, however, a decision is made by the curator and conservator to fill a previous paint loss; this was true in the case of Dhanashri Ragini (80.277.9).

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Lastly housing each of the paintings in archival rag mats to accommodate the paint and support is considered. Note that Chandhu La’l (59.206.2) and the folio from the Qissa-I Amir Hamza (24.46) both have strong undulations in the sheet, (i.e. they do not lie flat as most of the other paintings do.  This is because both are double sided and have multiple layers of paper, fabric etc. which naturally cause distortions).

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Decisions can be made within a split second but conservation and preservation take much longer. Enjoy the exhibition.