Textile Conservation: Advances in Practice (Routledge Series in Conservation and Museology) [2 ed.] 1032415819, 9781032415819

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Textile Conservation

This second edition of Textile Conservation offers an up-to-date perspective on the role and practice of textile conservators, capturing the diversity of textile conservation work across the globe. The volume considers key factors that are integral to effective conservation decisionmaking. It achieves this by focusing on four major factors that have influenced development in textile conservation practice over the past decades: the changing context, an evolution in the way conservators think about objects, the greater involvement of stakeholders, and technical development. Features of the new edition include: • Updated chapters that explain new techniques and recent developments in the field; • New and updated international case studies that demonstrate conservation decision-making in practice, including assessments of the conservation of objects in some of the world’s major cultural institutions; • Full-colour illustrations that demonstrate conservation in practice. Textile Conservation will be essential reading for conservators around the world. It will also be of great interest to academics and students engaged in the study of the conservation of textiles, as well as museum and heritage professionals. Frances Lennard worked as a textile conservator for 15 years, at the Textile Conservation Centre and in private practice with Fiona Hutton, before moving to the academic sphere and ­becoming the convenor of the postgraduate textile conservation programme at the University of ­Southampton and later at the University of Glasgow. Her research focused on conservation treatment and ­interdisciplinary practice; she is particularly interested in the treatment of woven tapestry, painted textiles and Pacific barkcloth. She became an Honorary Professorial Research Fellow at the ­University of Glasgow in 2021. Patricia Ewer, the principal of Textile Objects Conservation, LLC, has over 35 years of ­international experience in treating textiles, as well as managing, developing and staffing ­conservation projects of all disciplines. She is a Fellow of the American Institute for Conservation, the organization she

has been a member of since 1989. She is co-editor with Frances Lennard of the 2010 text Textile Conservation: Advances in Practice. Laura Mina serves as Conservator of Textiles with the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History & Culture. Previous institutions include a joint appointment with Winterthur Museum and the University of Delaware, the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Philadelphia Museum of Art. She received her BS in Performance Studies from Northwestern University and her MA in Fashion and Textile Studies: History, Theory, Museum Practice (conservation focus) from the Fashion Institute of Technology. She has led multiple workshops on the use of gels for textile treatments.

Routledge Series in Conservation and Museology

Titles in this classic series, published by the world-leading publisher of Museum & Heritage Studies and Conservation books, present the very latest research and practice from the fields of conservation and museology. With contributions from international experts, titles in the series will be relevant to researchers, practitioners and students working in the fields of conservation, museum and heritage studies, and art history. Titles published within the series include: THE HISTORY OF GAUGED BRICKWORK Conservation, Repair and Modern Application Gerard Lynch A PRACTICAL GUIDE TO COSTUME MOUNTING Lara Flecker CONSERVATION OF EASEL PAINTINGS, 2ND EDITION Edited by Joyce Hill Stoner and Rebecca Rushfield CONSERVATION OF TIME-BASED MEDIA ART Edited by Deena Engel and Joanna Phillips CONSERVATION OF BOOKS Edited by Abigail Bainbridge TEXTILE CONSERVATION Advances in Practice, 2nd Edition Edited by Frances Lennard, Patricia Ewer and Laura Mina For more information on this series, visit: https://www.routledge.com/Routledge-Series-inConservation-and-Museology/book-series/CONS

TEXTILE CONSERVATION Advances in Practice Second Edition

Edited by Frances Lennard, Patricia Ewer and Laura Mina

Front cover image: © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Back cover image: © Image by Julia Brennan. The Textile Museum, Department of Culture & Dzongkha Development, Ministry of Home Affairs, Royal Government of Bhutan Second edition published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Frances Lennard, Patricia Ewer and Laura Mina; individual case studies, the contributors The right of Frances Lennard, Patricia Ewer and Laura Mina to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual case studies, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. First edition published by Elsevier Ltd 2010 British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Lennard, Frances, editor. | Ewer, Patricia, editor. | Mina, Laura, editor. Title: Textile conservation : advances in practice / edited by Frances Lennard, Patricia Ewer, and Laura Mina. Description: Second edition. | Abingdon, Oxon : Routledge, 2024. | Series: Routledge series in conservation and museology | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023035857 (print) | LCCN 2023035858 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032415819 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032415802 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003358787 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Textile fabrics—Conservation and restoration. Classification: LCC NK8804.5 .T473 2024 (print) | LCC NK8804.5 (ebook) | DDC 746.028/8—dc23/eng/20231206 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023035857 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023035858 ISBN: 978-1-032-41581-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-41580-2 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-35878-7 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787 Typeset in Times New Roman by codeMantra

This book is dedicated to the future of textile conservation education.

CONTENTS

Foreword to the first edition xvii Lynda Hillyer Foreword to the second edition xix Sarah Scaturro Editors’ preface xxi Acknowledgementsxxiii List of figures xxv xli List of tables List of contributors xliii List of abbreviations lxiii CHAPTER 1

Textile conservation within the cultural sector

1

1.0 Overview

3

1.1 Institutional developments and their effect on conservation policies: the Cambusnethan Bog Burial Coat Helen M. Hughes

12

1.2 Figures in museum display: the creation and use of a little person mannequin at National Museums Scotland Miriam McLeod, Georgina Ripley

20

1.3 Modern textile conservation at the Victoria and Albert Museum: roots, evolution and rapid changes Marion Kite

31

ix

Contents

1.4 Modern textile conservation at the Victoria and Albert Museum II: dynamic display and agile conservation Lara Flecker, Joanne Hackett, Elizabeth-Anne Haldane

40

1.5 Project planning and management Ksynia Marko, Claire Golbourn

50

1.6 Moving on: the transition from museum conservation to private practice Howard Sutcliffe

61

CHAPTER 2

Treatment ethics and decision-making

71

2.0 Overview

73

2.1 To reveal and not obscure: balancing conservation and visual access Gretchen Guidess

80

2.2 Inherent vice, or: how I learned to stop worrying and love shattered silk Anna Rose Keefe, Kate Irvin, Jessica Urick

90

2.3 Preserving information: two beds with textile hangings dating from the seventeenth century Nicola Gentle 2.4 Conservation and connoisseurship Linda Eaton

100 108

2.5 The conservator’s eye: bringing an additional perspective to textile artefacts 116 Elizabeth E. Peacock 2.6 Traditional dress: the evolution of exhibition display methods in response to curatorial interpretations Christine Giuntini

125

2.7 Fit for a princess? Material culture and the conservation of Grace Kelly’s wedding dress Dinah Eastop, Bernice Morris

136

2.8 The conservation of three painted soft sculptures by Mirka Mora: three different outcomes Sabine Cotte

146

x

Contents CHAPTER 3

Conservation and community partnerships

157

3.0 Overview

159

3.1 Partnership in the preservation of cultural heritage at the National Museum of the American Indian Susan Heald

165

3.2 Mana taonga: people-centred conservation practice at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa Rangi Te Kanawa, Rachael Collinge, Kate Blair, Anne Peranteau

176

3.3 Repatriation of Chief Crowfoot’s Regalia to the Siksika Nation – a conservator’s involvement Morwena Stephens

184

3.4 The Esh Winning miners’ banner project – conservation involvement in a community initiative Caroline Rendell, Norman Emery, Chris Scott, Jim Devenport

193

3.5 The treatment and retreatment of trade union banners: (re)building a specialism in the conservation of large painted textiles based on their living history Jennifer van Enckevort, Kloë Rumsey, Beth Gillions

202

3.6 The Scots Colours at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum: use, preservation, and protocol Fiona McLaughlan, Claire Orbell, Anne Peranteau

212

3.7 Preserving materials and preserving meaning: Marie Watt’s Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014 Alexandra Barlow

222

CHAPTER 4

Interventive conservation

233

4.0 Overview

235

4.1 The preparation of condition reports for costume and textiles at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art Catherine C. McLean, Susan R. Schmalz, Kaoru Yui

243

xi

Contents

4.2 Documentation as conservation: the treatment of an archaeological Andean khipu Nicole Rode, Cecilia Pardo, Jon Clindaniel 4.3 Recording change: 1978–2008–2024: the rationale for suction table cleaning of a needlework sampler with iron gall ink Patsy Orlofsky, Barbara Lehrecke, Mary Kaldany, Rebecca Johnson-Dibb, Karen Clark, Katherine Barker

256

264

4.4 Back from black – contrasting approaches to the cleaning and conservation of historic fixed wall hangings at Knole Zenzie Tinker

274

4.5 New conservation practices for a nineteenth-century chenille carpet at the National Trust Textile Conservation Studio Aimée Grice-Venour

285

4.6 The conservation of four 1760s chairs: revealing and reinstating original upholstery features during in-situ treatment Kathryn (Kate) Gill

295

4.7 Progress in adhesive techniques – the conservation of two Coptic tunics at the Victoria and Albert Museum Lynda Hillyer

305

4.8 The adhesive treatment of an early nineteenth-century strawembroidered silk net dress Lauren Osmond, Katy Smith

314

4.9 The restoration of the tapestry Battle of Roncevaux from the Museo Nazionale del Bargello in Florence: a bridge between tradition and innovation Marta Cimò, Claudia Cirrincione 4.10 Conservation of an Aubusson rug Melinda Hey, Louise Shewry, Kelly Grimshaw 4.11 The conservation and replication of the banner-covered ceiling in the Stibbert Museum, Florence, Italy Mary Westerman Bulgarella

xii

325 336

345

Contents CHAPTER 5

Preventive conservation

355

5.0 Overview

357

5.1 Preventive conservation at The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation Patricia Silence

364

5.2 Preventive conservation solutions for textile collections Caroline Rendell

372

5.3 Considerations on backlit systems for display of cotton textiles Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano

385

5.4 Working with synthetic fibres: the response of textile conservation to twentieth-century dress Sarah Howard

394

5.5 Identification of plastics and improvement of their storage at the Kyoto Costume Institute Moe Sato

403

CHAPTER 6

Applied science in conservation

413

6.0 Overview

415

6.1 Integrated multispectral imaging, analysis and treatment of an Egyptian tunic 421 Elizabeth-Anne Haldane, Sara Pearce (née Gillies), Sonia O’Connor, Cathy Batt, Ben Stern 6.2 A successful intertwining. Non-destructive analysis informing conservation projects at the Textile Department of the Opificio delle Pietre Dure Guia Rossignoli, Licia Triolo 6.3 The analysis and stitch support treatment of a suspected tin-weighted silk child’s dress Rosie Chamberlin, Paul Garside

xiii

432

442

Contents

6.4 Monitoring light-induced change in textiles at The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation Jacquelyn Peterson-Grace

451

6.5 Material evidence: assessing risk in the collection of the Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology Ann Coppinger

461

6.6 A study of the microenvironment within pressure mounts Masumi Kataoka CHAPTER 7

471

Education of textile conservators

483

7.0 Overview

485

7.1 Defining features of the TCC’s MA Textile Conservation programme 1999–2009492 Frances Lennard 7.2 Conversations about teaching textile conservation: forming a community of practice Laura Mina, Denyse Montegut, Karen Thompson, Deborah Lee Trupin 7.3 Hosting pre-programme work placements in colour and 3-D Morwena Stephens

499 508

7.4 The conservation of two plated jacks – the importance of work-based learning Lucia Burgio, Jacquelyn Peterson-Grace, Emma Smith, Katy Smith

517

7.5 Developing a short-term intensive training course in textile conservation for non-conservation museum professionals in Jordan Mika Takami

527

7.6 Teaching preventive conservation and textile treatments in Asia and Africa Julia M. Brennan

536

7.7 The broadening of conservation boundaries: a personal perspective Zoe Roberts

544

xiv

Contents CHAPTER 8

Ongoing professional development

555

8.0 Overview

557

8.1 #textileconservation: an informal community of practice on social media Rosie H. Cook

564

8.2 The Bacton altar cloth – the lost dress of Elizabeth I? How collaboration can inform both curatorial research and conservation treatment 574 Libby Thompson 8.3 Beyond Hope: upholstery and textile conservation collaborations Nancy Britton, Robin Hanson 8.4 Negotiation and flexibility: new challenges influencing the management of large, complex textile conservation projects: working in the public view Maria Jordan, Mika Takami, Kate Orfeur

583

593

8.5 Conservators curating exhibitions Sarah Scaturro

603

Index

613

xv

FOREWORD TO THE FIRST EDITION Lynda Hillyer

Textile conservation is a complex, challenging and multi-faceted discipline. Textile conservators work not only with some of the most vulnerable objects in our cultural heritage but also with a large variety of related materials which may form part of a textile artefact. In the last 20 years there have been significant changes and developments in the profession. This book, written by leading conservators in the UK, North America and Europe, illustrates not only the technical advances in treatment options that have been achieved but also the different world in which the textile conservator now operates. The interaction of these two factors has shaped the profession and broadened the textile conservator’s role into one of far greater diversity. Technical skills are only part of the textile conservator’s work. In order to apply those skills in an appropriate context, the modern conservator needs to understand the multiplicity of meanings and values that an object can present and the role of that object in a collection. In an increasingly project-led culture, the conservator also needs the ability to assess and manage risk. Management and negotiating skills as well as financial acumen are needed by conservators in both museum and private practice. Many factors have contributed to the advances in techniques and the wider range of materials which are part of the modern textile conservation studio. There is now a substantial body of practical experience among textile conservators about the validity of a whole range of treatment options and the reasons for the failure of earlier applications. These observations are backed by a body of scientific research into the effects of treatments on historic textiles and have resulted in a more complete understanding of condition. The profession has grown in confidence over the last 20 years. Most training for textile conservators is now at MA level. Codes of ethics developed by professional conservation bodies have defined and promoted the profession. Systems of accreditation have been established. There is an open exchange of information between different schools of textile conservation and access to online discussion groups and online journals. Multidisciplinary meetings and conferences have also played a significant part in contributing to technical advances. The basic methodology of textile conservation remains the same, but there is greater finesse in application techniques, a wider and more informed choice of materials, and an increased understanding of the effect of those materials and techniques on the object. Conservators view treatments differently. The concept of reversibility, a basic principle of conservation for so many years, has been replaced by that of re-treatability and minimum intervention. Solvent-activated adhesives, cold lining techniques and pressure mounts are an alternative to the use of thermoplastic xvii

Foreword to the first edition

adhesives; ingenious non-invasive treatments have been devised for upholstery conservation projects. New materials for mounts and more sophisticated designs have resulted in the recognition that a well-constructed mount can play a greater and often crucial role in minimizing the amount of interventive treatment needed to stabilize a damaged object. Digital images enable conservators to illustrate the possible outcomes of treatment proposals and to document the condition of an object with more clarity. These new tools have given textile conservators more flexibility, an essential factor in dealing with the often rapid changes that have faced them over the last two decades. Pressures on conservators are greater today than they have ever been. The focus on access in the museum world has led to a constant demand for objects on display in exhibitions and on loans, some of them at a succession of venues. Many conservators have the added responsibility of acting as couriers of these objects to loan venues or with touring exhibitions. Cuts in funding and greater demands mean that levels of conservation treatment have to be balanced against available resources of time and money. There are fewer opportunities to treat objects in storage. Consequently, there is a greater need for preventive conservation, and strategies for whole collections are not uncommon. Extensive conservation treatments for museum objects are often contracted out to private conservators. Conservators in both private and museum practice consult not only their colleagues but every stakeholder involved with the future of the object. There is widespread recognition that the view of an object by a client or curator may change over time and that minimal intervention gives more freedom to re-interpret the object and its role in the future. Perhaps one of the most positive results of the economic constraints on modern textile conservation is that conservators have developed a more reflective practice and think in a creative and flexible way of how to balance the key issues of access and preservation in their work. The diversity of the textile conservator’s work makes it a very rewarding profession. Textiles have infinite variety and interest, and they are often objects of great beauty. The conservator is in a privileged position and needs to understand the significance of every aspect of the evidence that a textile might present. Conservators can add to a greater technical understanding of the production and construction of a textile object and by doing so contribute to its historical context. These insights also add to the enjoyment of the object by its audience. The publication of this book, however, comes at a difficult time in the history of conservation. Funding cuts have led to a reduction in the number of permanent jobs available in textile conservation, and a contract culture exists in many museums. MA training in textile conservation is no longer available in the UK.1 Opportunities for research at university level have been curtailed. The technical advances of the last two decades and the ability of conservators to make sound decisions about the objects in their care have never been needed more. The examples in this book illustrate the great range and competence of the modern textile conservator and the crucial role they play in preserving a vital part of our cultural heritage.

Note 1 This was temporarily the case in 2009–2010, at the time of writing.

xviii

FOREWORD TO THE SECOND EDITION Sarah Scaturro

What adjectives might we use to describe textile conservation today? Some that come to mind include vibrant, responsive, creative, expansive, dynamic, collaborative; there are so many positive words that could define our field as it continuously refines and flexes its mission to preserve the world’s fibre-based heritage. One word captures my attention – expansive. No longer does the metaphor of a three-legged stool (art history/science/craft) function as the only concept capable of describing its unique character. Today we might also reference the rhizomatic shape of our work, which continues to move in all sorts of directions, sending up shoots in new terrains while linking back to our historical core activities. This second edition of the ground-breaking book, Textile Conservation: Advances in Practice, builds on the first edition published in 2010 to capture the evolving multi-faceted character of our work, surveying where we’ve been and pointing towards where we are going. In 1971, just over 50 years ago, textile conservators from around the world gathered at the Abegg-Stiftung in Riggisberg, Switzerland to articulate the core tenets of a textile conservator’s work. At the time, the field was still in the process of defining itself as a profession. The attendees wrote resolutions about the primacy of maintaining evidence, the need to do no harm, and the role of stitching as a primary technique, as these were the issues at the forefront of the field’s concerns. Half a century later, a glimpse at the contents of this book reveals a field that has moved in transformative directions. For example, whereas earlier in the field’s development, questions of authority arose as to who determines treatment goals and outcomes (Was it the curator? The conservator? The scientist? The owner?), today we are proactively decentring authority, ceding it in part back to communities and peoples whose heritage it is that we care for. We’ve finally come to grips with the understanding that our actions are not objective; instead, it is our subjectivity, knowledge, and skills that can be our power, if thoughtfully deployed. Perhaps the most impactful advancement is our sharpened focus on justice – both inside our field and outside of it. Today our ethics of care are as much about integrity and values related to people as they are about guiding the technical work that we do to preserve the objects in front of us. Speaking of our technical work, today you can find a textile conservator operating non-­ destructive multispectral imaging equipment, 3D laser scanners, handheld x-ray fluorescence spectrometers, or engaging in one of our most fundamental analyses that will never diminish in importance – counting threads and determining yarn twist with a loupe (or perhaps now a xix

Foreword to the second edition

Dino-Lite). Our scientific collaborators are just as likely to be conservation scientists and conservators in other disciplines, professionals in completely different industries, or knowledge bearers from local communities. While science is ever important, so remains craft. The material turn in academia, along with the recognition that embodied knowledge generates new insights, have shown to non-conservators just how fruitful our field is in generating new information about the making and use of historic textiles. While we have always known that it’s important to understand textile materiality, our craft abilities are truly what distinguish and sharpen our intellectual edge as scholars. Little seems to have changed about our preoccupation with ensuring the safety of textiles and that our methods will enable future conservators to undo what we have done. Although the notion of reversibility has been superseded by that of re-treatability, the aim is the same: to leave open the door for the heritage we work on to manifest new interpretations, accept new approaches, and hold new values. Indeed, ensuring the conceptual integrity of textiles has moved even more into focus, leading us back to sharing agency in determining what a textile means, and to whom. We are communicating our work more broadly than ever, through public programmes, exhibitions, our own writings, the news, and of course, on social media. For the first time ever, people can find more about our work through searching #textileconservation and #fashionconservation. Conservators working in private practice, museums, and regional centres have realized there is a public appetite for content revealing the wonderful things we are working on and the creative and technical work we are doing. It is through our storytelling that we are reaching new audiences, sharing the significance of our work, and enticing others to join us in our endeavours. Some of us are also teachers, guiding the new generation of caretakers who will continue to push this field forward, but in what direction? This volume, too, provides a glimpse at the different ways of practising, learning, and engaging, now more relevant than ever on the heels of a global pandemic that broke, if temporarily, the physical proximity of conservation training to historic artefacts. New paradigms of access and practice appeared, while emerging conservators themselves have signalled clearly where they need the field to move. A core part is a reassessment of how we – as textile conservators – experience our work realities today. Salary transparency, paid internships, living wages, environmental sustainability, and of course, equity, accessibility, and justice – those are the things that matter for conservators today. And perhaps they always have; it’s just that only now our needs have coalesced into sustained and targeted action. Managing change is what we as conservators do. This new edition celebrates how we do that, but it also reveals how now, more than ever, we are managing change in our very own discipline. What might a third edition of this book reveal as the textile conservation of tomorrow?

xx

EDITORS’ PREFACE

A textile is a fibre-based, flexible material, usually defined as a fabric or cloth, though its Latin derivation is narrower, from texere, to weave. In the museum field the term textile, applied to collections of dress and textiles or to social history collections, usually denotes a broader group of objects linked by association, encompassing leather shoes, paper dresses, fur garments and feather adornments, and many other types of material. Textile conservation, as this volume illustrates, is a broad-ranging field which aims to preserve and make available for display, study or use a wide range of culturally significant, textile-based objects and collections. The first edition of this book was published in 2010. At that time, the editors aimed to illustrate the development in the role and practice of the textile conservator since the publication of an earlier generation of textile conservation manuals, and to capture the diversity of textile conservators’ work. The overall goal, then and now, is to show why textile conservation is important and why it matters. The world, and the field, have changed enormously in the decade or more since the first publication. The cultural heritage sector closely reflects challenges and developments in society, and conservation responds to these changing needs and priorities. In this context, the work of textile conservators has continuously evolved to the extent that we felt that a second edition was necessary to capture these developments. This volume has the same basic structure as the first edition, with some minor adjustment. It is divided into eight chapters covering significant aspects of textile conservators’ work. The editors introduce each chapter with an overview of practice; these have been re-written to capture recent developments. In each chapter the overview is followed by a series of case studies, written by our colleagues. We aimed specifically to make this volume as inclusive and diverse as possible; the case studies are written by colleagues from around the world, from large and small institutions and freelance businesses, and including both early-career and experienced conservators. Many of the case studies from the first volume have been included. Several of these have been revised, while a few are published in their original form as their content is still relevant and timely today. There are also a large number of new case studies. Although there are many international contributions, the book retains a particular focus on practice in the UK and the US, reflecting the editors’ backgrounds. The references are mainly drawn from the literature in English. Between them, the three editors have extensive experience of working in museums, private practice and conservation education. Working on the new edition allowed the two original editors, xxi

Editors’ preface

Frances Lennard and Patricia Ewer, to reflect on their achievements in conservation education and private practice since 2010 and at the end of their professional careers. We were delighted to be joined for this edition by Laura Mina, representing a younger generation. She notes that, as an emerging professional, the first edition helped her to bridge theory and practice and increased her awareness of current work in our field. We hope that this volume will make a similar contribution to the next generation of textile conservators.

xxii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The editors would like to thank all our colleagues who discussed with us our early ideas for this second edition. We are extremely grateful to all the contributors to this book for sharing their experiences and expertise. We are also extremely grateful to Mike Halliwell for preparing the images for publication. We thank the Pasold Research Fund, the Marc Fitch Fund and Taylor & Francis for funding the preparation of images. We would like to thank Marcia Adams, Lauren Ellis, Heidi Lowther, Emmie Shand and their team from Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group, and Sarah Delmas, copyeditor, for all their support in producing this book.

xxiii

FIGURES

1.0.1 We Are the Story. Co-presented exhibitions by Textile Center and the Women of Color Quilters Network and curated by Carolyn L. Mazloomi, at the Textile Center, 10 September 2020–12 June 2021. © Textile Center 1.0.2 The exhibition, Nothing About Us Without Us – Disabled People’s Activism: Past, Present and Future, at the People’s History Museum, 2022–2023. © People’s History Museum 1.0.3 Harriet Tubman Quilt, made by the Negro History Club of Marin City and Sausalito, California, 1951, 120 × 96 inches, cotton appliqué, designed by Ben Irvin. Traditional quilting techniques are combined with modern design and materials to create a work of art celebrating Black heroes. © Robert W. Woodruff Library/Atlanta University Center 1.1.1 1991 images: left, front of the coat; right, the back: showing three-quarter view as it was displayed with the front open and the coat skirts slightly flared at the back. The mount was designed to support the coat and to give the impression of movement. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection 1.1.2 2022 digital photograph showing a three-quarter view of the coat taken on a small mannequin. The coat is not mounted for display but so that the viewer can see the slim stature of the man who would have worn the coat. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection 1.2.1 Body Beautiful: Diversity on the Catwalk exhibition at National Museums Scotland. © National Museums Scotland 1.2.2 Sinéad Burke on the publicity poster for Body Beautiful in a customized Burberry® Mac. © Tim Walker Studio 1.2.3 Sinéad Burke with Gaetano Miraldi, Head Sculptor, during live casting. © Proportion London 1.2.4 Sinéad Burke with her new figure dressed in Christopher Kane custom archive floral dress. © Neil Hanna 1.3.1 Evening dress and rouleau belt by Madame Gres. The Cecil Beaton Collection. T.246V&A-1974. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 1.3.2 The V&A textile conservation studio. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London xxv

5 6

9

15

17 21 25 27 28 33 36

Figures

1.3.3 Today conservators are frequently asked to mount dress so that it is fully supported but interpreted without a visible mannequin. Compare this style of mounting with the same dress as it was displayed in the Costume Court in the late 1980s (Figure 1.3.1).  © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 1.4.1 Trial of the mount for the costume for Superman (S.1692:1-6-2015): test hang from the hoist in the Textile Conservation Studio. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 1.4.2 Group of late twentieth-century and contemporary kimono displayed on T-bars and on mannequins in the V&A exhibition Kimono: Kyoto to Catwalk, 2020. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 1.4.3 Display of dyestuffs and dyed textiles in The Fabric of India exhibition at the V&A, 2015, showing a variety of textile-mounting methods. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 1.4.4 Frances Hartog wet cleaning the surface of a 1936 English wool pile carpet (Circ.481-1974) using a damp microfibre cloth. © Marion Dorn/Victoria and Albert Museum, London 1.5.1 A team of conservators working together to meet the project deadline for a set of embroidered bed curtains. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 1.5.2 Training was given in the use of safety equipment and monitoring for the adhesive removal phase of the Cotehele tapestry project. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 1.5.3 Example of a graph used to monitor estimated hours of work against actual hours per 200mm section of tapestry. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 1.5.4 Textile conservators working on site at Snowshill Manor during reinstatement of the contents. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 1.5.5 Textile conservators working on multiple components from the Spangled Bed. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 1.5.6 Excel spreadsheet detailing a six-year phased work programme on a state bed and associated furniture. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 1.6.1 Creating a custom mount for a Kom Chimpanzee fetish mask tunic (DIA #2016.129) in the textile conservation laboratory at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Image courtesy of the Detroit Institute of Arts 1.6.2 Civil War uniforms from Shiloh National Historic Battlefield, National Park Service in the studio at Smith Lake. Image by Howard Sutcliffe 1.6.3 The jhul being treated outside the studio at Smith Lake. Image by Howard Sutcliffe 1.6.4 Working in the galleries: tapestries being relined. Tours are allowed to walk by the workspace at the Flint Institute of Arts. Image courtesy of the Flint Institute of Arts 2.0.1 A focus group member giving feedback on new displays at the Burrell Collection, using mock-ups of interpretation panels. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection xxvi

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2.0.2 The patchwork upper layer of a baby quilt with fur lining, after separating the two layers: above, before treatment; below, after treatment. Courtesy of Royal Alberta Museum. Image by Shirley Ellis 2.1.1 Two Nation Builders in the Historic Area, Virginia Governor Patrick Henry, portrayed by Actor Interpreter Richard Schumann, and Oconostota, portrayed by American Indian Interpreter Kody Grant, in front of the Governor’s Palace, 24 August 2022. Oconostota was a visitor to Williamsburg throughout the eighteenth century. In 1777 he was part of a Cherokee Delegation that came to discuss future relations between his nation and the newly free Commonwealth of Virginia. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 2.1.2 Rolled textile storage drawers for small flat textile documents are shown on the left side of the aisle, while large storage trays for quilts and household textiles are shown on the right. Image by Jason Copes, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 2.1.3 Overview showing trays and storage box housing a partially disassembled eighteenth-century gown. The storage components were made using archival blue board. The trays have Volara® (a closed-cell foam) bumpers. Image by Jason Copes, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 2.1.4 Mounted sampler by Mary Wilson (CWF 1994-116) showing the eight component parts of a hinged book mount. The sampler (1) is stitch mounted onto tensioned bobbinet (2) that is sewn to the top of a padded window support (3). The back of the padded window support is finished with dyed archival paper (4) and is whipstitched along one side (5) to the bottom support (6). An internal support (7), adhered to the bottom support, fits into the window to provide support to the bobbinet and mounted sampler. The opening, opposite the stitched hinge, is held together with magnets (8). Design and implementation by J. Peterson-Grace. Image by Jason Copes, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 2.2.1 Shattering characteristic of nineteenth-century weighted silk on the train of an 1880s evening dress from the RISD Museum collection. Courtesy of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI 2.2.2 Inherent Vice. Gallery display at the RISD Museum in Providence, RI. January–June 2022. Courtesy of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI 2.2.3 Student work showing the progression of a deaccessioned walking suit throughout ‘Inherent Vice: Experimental Research Studio (Part Two)’, 2022: work by: upper left, Silvija Meixner; upper right, Christopher Pak; lower left, Emma Naughton; lower right, Madi Hough. Courtesy of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI 2.2.4 Inherent Vice: Hidden Narratives. Gallery display at the RISD Museum in Providence, RI. July–December 2022. Courtesy of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI 2.3.1 The bed in the King Charles Room, Cotehele, displayed after conservation. © National Trust/Nicola Gentle. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 2.3.2 Drawing made to show the construction of fringing on the upper outer valances of the bed in the King Charles Room, Cotehele. © Nicola Gentle xxvii

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2.3.3 Drawing reconstructing the design on the printed wool textiles of Lord Rochester’s bed. © Nicola Gentle 2.3.4 Quarter-scale model made to show the possible original appearance of Lord Rochester’s bed. © Nicola Gentle 2.4.1 Port Royal Parlor, 1935, photographed in black and white by Robert V. Brost and hand-coloured in situ by Annette Karge. More than 300 stereo-views, a form of three-dimensional photography, were taken at Winterthur in the 1930s. Courtesy, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library 2.4.2 Theatre costume. Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont 1969.0491. Courtesy, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library 2.4.3 The Winterthur Bedroom, Winterthur Museum. Courtesy, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library 2.5.1 a) The Bringetofta coffin (150 × 60 × 60mm); b) the inside of the Bringetofta shroud (approx. 300 × 550mm). (a) Albin Hovlin, Jönköpings läns museum (Sweden); (b) Anders Andersson, Kulturmiljö Halland (Sweden) 2.5.2 a) The Gällared coffin (107 × 68 × 53mm); b) folded and c) unfolded Gällared shroud (147 × 85mm). (a) Albin Hovlin, Jönköpings läns museum (Sweden); (b) and (c) Elizabeth E. Peacock, NTNU University Museum (Norway) 2.5.3 a) The bentwood box coffin (360mm) with articulated skeletal remains wrapped in several layers of textiles seen from above; b) the textile-infant bundle. Upplands Museum (Sweden) 2.6.1 Studio photograph: Masquerade Ensemble, Leopard Society (Suah Ndeng), Cameroon, Mambila, Mbem, or Kaka group. Mounted on shaped support for 1981 inaugural installation in the MCRW, The Met. Twentieth-century, raffia palm fibre, dye. Fletcher Fund, 1972 (1972.4.66). Installation curated by Susan Vogel. Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Photograph Studio 2.6.2 Installation view, Color and Shape in American Indian Art, 25 March 1983–3 July 1983. Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Photograph Studio 2.6.3 Installation view of Prestige Gown, Cameroon, Western Grassfields c.1987. Mounted on a plate-pole assembly with Ethafoam™ torso and archival-tube arm supports in the MCRW, The Met. Nineteenth-twentieth century, cotton, wool. Purchase, Dr. and Mrs. Sidney Clyman Gift and Rogers Fund, 1987 (1987.163). Also pictured: prestige cap, Cameroon, Grassfields. Mounted on Ethafoam™ with metal wall-mounted support. Cotton, wool. The Bryce Holcombe Collection of African Decorative Art, Bequest of Bryce Holcombe, 1984 (1986.478.60). Installation curated by Kate Ezra. Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Photograph Studio 2.6.4 Two views of the wrapped torso forms created for All Roads Are Good, c.1994. Including 088038.000, a Navajo weaving c.1840, wool; and 144864.000, a Northeast-Salish weaving c.1870, goat wool and dog hair. Installation curated by D.Y. Begay (Navajo). Courtesy, National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution. Image by NMAI Photo Services Staff, Ross Muir, 2/1996 2.6.5 Installation view of Likishi Dance Costume: leggings, rattles, shirt with attached head cover, and Pwo Mask in the African Galleries, c.1995. 36.548.553 Zambia, Africa; Lovale or Chokwe, late nineteenth or early twentieth century. Fibre, wood, seedpods. (Loincloth is a modern reconstruction.) Curated by Bill Siegmann at the Brooklyn Museum, New York. Image © Brooklyn Museum xxviii

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2.7.1 Sketch of Princess Grace’s wedding dress, drawn by the designer, Helen Rose. Philadelphia Museum of Art: Gift of the artist, 1963, 1963-221-1 2.7.2 The wedding dress as displayed in Monaco in 2007. © Grimaldi Forum Monaco/Guillaume Barclay, 2007 2.7.3 Detail of the centre back opening and under-structures of the skirt, after treatment in 2007. Image by Joe Mikuliak, courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art 2.7.4 Conservation in progress in 2006–2007: Morris stitching lace on the train insert. Image by Andrea Nuñez, courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art 2.8.1 Lady with Horns before conservation: left, the bust collapsing backwards and large paint losses; right, the sculpture from the side. © Sabine Cotte 2.8.2 Lady with Horns after conservation: left, the ‘awake’ side; right, the ‘sleeping’ side. © Sabine Cotte 2.8.3 Dancing Girl on the Sea. Private collection, Melbourne. © Sabine Cotte 2.8.4 a) Angel sculpture before treatment, with sagging wing and leg; b) angel sculpture attached to its acrylic support and stand; c) the second face of the angel sculpture, showing the acrylic support and rod; d) angel sculpture in storage, still attached to its support. © Sabine Cotte 3.0.1 Conserving a Jewish Torah cover. Image courtesy Midwest Art Conservation Center 3.0.2 A meeting of the Banner Tales team. Some of the banners which featured in the project are on display, including the Peace March Scotland banner from 1982 (blue and white) and the Sebacha Festival banner from 1990, which is from an anti-apartheid movement. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection 3.1.1 The National Museum of the American Indian on the National Mall, Washington DC, eastern façade. National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution 3.1.2 Machi Gerado Queupucura and Machi Yolanda Curinao (Mapuche) perform a ceremony in the rotunda of NMAI’s Cultural Resources Center during a community consultation for the inaugural exhibition, Our Universes, March 2000. National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution 3.1.3 NMAI Curator Emil Her Many Horses (Oglala Lakota), Mellon Fellow Anna Hodson, Textile Conservator Susan Heald, and consultant artist/dressmaker Jami Okuma (Luiseño/Shoshone-Bannock) discussing dress (14/7094) during curatorial/conservation consultation for Identity by Design exhibition, December 2005. National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution 3.1.4 NMAI Textile Conservator Susan Heald, Mellon Fellow Luba Dovgan Nurse, and artist/weaver Teri Rofkar (Tlingit) reunite Tlingit Chilkat robe (05/0591) with pattern board (02/9130) during the basketry/robe weaving workshop, May 2011. National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution 3.3.1 The Blackfoot delegation during the 2013 visit with Kent Ayoungman and Herman Yellow Old Woman holding Chief Crowfoot’s shirt at RAMM. © RAMM, Exeter City Council 3.3.2 The Siksika Nation delegation for the 2022 repatriation at RAMM. © RAMM, Exeter City Council 3.3.3 Herman Yellow Old Woman regalia gifted to RAMM. © RAMM, Exeter City Council xxix

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3.4.1 Parading the Trimdon Lodge Banner at the Big Meet with their brass band. Image by John Attle 3.4.2 The Durham Miners’ Association banner, Murton Lodge being carried out of Durham Cathedral after the service of dedication. Image by John Attle 3.4.3 Label from the original storage box of a George Tutill banner. Image by George Bamfitt 3.4.4 The Esh Winning Colliery Banner Group unveiling the new banner, on the left, and the conserved banner, on the right. Image by Chris Scott 3.5.1 Cardinal Manning banner on recent display at the People’s History Museum following retreatment. © People’s History Museum 3.5.2 Details of the Sandford Hill banner: before conservation (left) and after conservation (right). © People’s History Museum, courtesy of the National Coal Mining Museum 3.5.3 Sandford Hill banner after conservation. © People’s History Museum, courtesy of the National Coal Mining Museum 3.5.4 Kloë Rumsey reactivating the adhesive support of the Derbyshire NUM banner. © People’s History Museum, courtesy of the Derbyshire Miners’ Welfare Scheme 3.6.1 Placing the Scots Colours in their custom-made covers at Kensington Drill Hall in preparation for laying up at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum. On loan from New Zealand Defence Force. Used with permission from Toitū Otago Settlers Museum 3.6.2 Annual installation of the Scots Colours for Anzac Day remembrance in the Military Gallery at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum. On loan from New Zealand Defence Force. Used with permission from Toitū Otago Settlers Museum 3.6.3 Claire Orbell, TOSM Registrar, packing away cord and tassels in custom-made boxes. On loan from New Zealand Defence Force. Used with permission from Toitū Otago Settlers Museum 3.6.4 Detail of the obverse of the Regimental Colour: above, before treatment, showing the ranking of different areas; below, after treatment. Image copyright of Anne Peranteau and used with permission 3.7.1 Obverse of Marie Watt’s Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014. Reclaimed wool blankets, satin binding, and thread, 9 ft. 11 1/2 in. × 8 ft. 3 1/2 in. × 11 in. (3035 × 2527 × 279mm), The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Morris K. Jesup Fund, 2021 (2021.46). Images © The Metropolitan Museum of Art/artwork © Marie Watt 3.7.2 Left, Reverse detail of Marie Watt’s Untitled (Dream Catcher). Wool blankets are stitched together. Colourful threads are visible from the application of diamond-shaped pieces of wool blankets stitched from the front in a concentric circle design. Right, Detail of pink acetate and other satin bindings. Cut from original blankets, the bindings are stitched to the top edge at both ends and fall as large, intertwined loops down the obverse of the work. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Morris K. Jesup Fund, 2021 (2021.46). Images © The Metropolitan Museum of Art/artwork © Marie Watt 3.7.3 Marie Watt, Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014 on exhibition in Art of Native America, May 2021–June 2022. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Morris

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3.7.4

4.0.1

4.0.2 4.1.1 4.1.2

4.1.3 4.1.4 4.2.1 4.2.2 4.2.3 4.2.4 4.3.1 4.3.2 4.3.3 4.3.4 4.4.1 4.4.2

K. Jesup Fund, 2021 (2021.46). Images © The Metropolitan Museum of Art/ artwork © Marie Watt Untitled (Dream Catcher) during preparation for storage. Satin bindings were sandwiched between two layers of thin Pellon® and rolled gently on a Tyvek® tube. The second layer was then rolled face-out on a large blueboard tube. Image by Alexandra Barlow Vacuuming Modern Tapestry designed by Roy Lichtenstein, 1968, 108 × 148 in., in the collection of the Bechtler Museum of Modern Art. © Bechtler Museum of Modern Art, Charlotte, NC, USA. Photo by conservator. Art © Estate of Roy Lichtenstein Danielle Connolly treating a silk tartan jacket, believed to have been worn as part of a medieval dress costume in c.1840–1850, for the Wild and Majestic exhibition at National Museums Scotland. © National Museums Scotland Working in an off-site location, an electronic condition report is created for a tapestry (LACMA #57.57). Image © Museum Associates/LACMA, by Catherine McLean This eighteenth-century robe was examined in three steps: front (top), interior (centre) and back (bottom). For each step, the examination proceeded from the top of the gown to the bottom (LACMA # M.64.83.1a). Image © Museum Associates/LACMA, by Catherine McLean A written condition report with numbered details referring to digital images. Image © Museum Associates/LACMA, by Catherine McLean An overall digital image with condition notations (LACMA # 70.3.2). © Museum Associates/LACMA, by Catherine McLean Khipu Am1937,0213.84 before conservation. © 2022 Trustees of the British Museum Detail of the khipu’s cords and knots, after realignment. © 2022 Trustees of the British Museum During conservation. A detached subsidiary cord being secured back in position. The red arrows point to the toned paper twist, which wraps around and sits between the cord’s ply. © 2022 Trustees of the British Museum Khipu Am1937,0213.84 after conservation, on a support board. © 2022 Trustees of the British Museum Rebekah Richardson sampler before treatment. © TCW, Textile Conservation Workshop Rebekah Richardson sampler after treatment. © TCW, Textile Conservation Workshop Drying on the lateral flow textile suction table. © TCW, Textile Conservation Workshop Test strip having turned pink, indicating presence of water-soluble iron (II) ions in brown yarns. © TCW, Textile Conservation Workshop View of east wall of Cartoon Gallery, after conservation. Zenzie Tinker © National Trust. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust Detail to show extent of soiling with used microfibre and towelling pads in front. Zenzie Tinker © National Trust. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust

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4.4.3 The King’s Closet before conservation. Andreas von Einseidel © National Trust. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 4.4.4 View of clean and soiled panel laid together. Zenzie Tinker © National Trust. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 4.5.1 An overview of the chenille carpet after conservation, in situ in the Dining Room at Cragside, Northumberland. The use of a digitally produced Eyemat® as a drugget can be seen on the right of the carpet. © National Trust Images/ Paul Harris. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 4.5.2 Chenille weave and construction diagrams: a) chenille strips are cut from a plain weave cloth of cotton warps with coloured woollen wefts; b) chenille strips are heated around a metal rod to form a ‘U’ shape; c) the carpet is manufactured by weaving the chenille strips as supplementary wefts onto a complex base weave. © National Trust/Aimée Grice-Venour 4.5.3 Conservation infill and stitching on the Cragside carpet was used to reintroduce elements of the design. Large areas of damage and loss (above) were stitched with channelled and laid coloured wool yarns which were secured with polyester thread stitched through the existing woollen weft and over the new coloured yarns (below). © National Trust/Aimée Grice-Venour. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 4.5.4 Carpet set face up over a long table with two rollers. Both rollers are supported on aluminium beams, which in turn are carried on wooden tapestry blocks secured on top of four Sealey™ motorcycle scissor jacks positioned at each corner. © National Trust/Aimée Grice-Venour. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 4.6.1 Three-quarter front view of one of the armchairs after conservation treatment. Image reproduced by kind permission of Corsham Court, Bristol Museums, Galleries and Archives and the Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow (TCC 2929) 4.6.2 Line drawing of one of the armchairs to show the location of the shallow tufting. Image by Kathryn Gill 4.6.3 Detail of one corner of the armchair back: left, before conservation treatment; centre, during conservation treatment; right, after conservation treatment. Image reproduced by kind permission of Corsham Court, Bristol Museums, Galleries and Archives and the Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow (TCC 2929) 4.6.4 Cross-sectional view of the non-interventive seat support. The support panel (1) is held in position with custom-made brass brackets. The panel is attached to the threaded element of the metal fixing (2) with a washer and wing nut. The metal fixing slips between the corner block of the seat rail (3) and the seat webbing (4). The wing nut enables the position of the support sheet to be lowered or raised as necessary. This diagram shows one of the threaded ties (5) which secure the net to the surface of the red damask (6). Image by Kathryn Gill 4.7.1 Coptic tunic dated between 600 and 800 AD. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London

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4.7.2 Back of the seventh-century Coptic tunic. The linen is impregnated with the remains of embalming fluids. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Photography Lynda Hillyer © V&A 4.7.3 Second-third-century tunic after conservation. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 4.7.4 Photomicrograph of unwashed Egyptian dynastic linen fragment. Magnification ×1250. Image taken with a scanning electron microscope and shows transverse cracking and breakdown of fibre bundles. © University of Manchester. Image by Brenda Lomas, UMIST 4.8.1 T.2428-2021 Given by the V&A Americas Foundation through the generosity of B. Okumura. Net dress, front view, laid flat, before conservation. In this image, the drawstring under the bust has been left untied in order to document the construction and condition of the dress, and also to reduce the strain on the fragile ruched silk. For scale, the length of the dress from shoulder to hem is 1.34m. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 4.8.2 FEI Quanta 650 FEG scanning electron microscope (backscattered mode at ×84) image of silk net from T.2428-2021 showing abraded wheat starch dressing. © The Trustees of The Natural History Museum 4.8.3 Detail of the flounce removed from the net dress, during treatment. The effect of the heavy straw embroidery and yellow glass beads can be seen in the adjacent large horizontal splits. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 4.8.4 Net dress, front three-quarter view, on the display mannequin after conservation. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 4.9.1 The Battle of Roncevaux tapestry: above, after removing the ancient and heavy lining and wet cleaning; below, after restoration. © Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro, courtesy of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence 4.9.2 Detail of the tapestry: above, before treatment; below, after treatment. The shoulder of the character Gondebue was consolidated using the integrative technique called ‘loosely woven weft’; three areas of chromatic mélange are juxtaposed. © Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro, courtesy of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence 4.9.3 Diagram of the detail of the consolidation of the outer edges. The fastening thread runs within the original structure, reinforcing the original wefts. © Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro 4.9.4 Above, the back of the tapestry: the new support and galloon are visible. Below, a diagram showing how the sections of the galloon are joined, with measurements in metres. © Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro, courtesy of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence 4.10.1. Diagrams of the custom horizontal frame setup. Above: side view. Below: view from above. © The Landi Company 4.10.2. Left: detail of timber framework and plywood board, with hook Velcro® attached to the inner strut. Right: detail of the side aprons being stretched and attached to the Velcro® on the timber frameworks, creating tension across the warps in the working space. © The Landi Company 4.10.3. Left, detail of damaged area; right, the same area after support with brick couching stitching. © The Landi Company

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4.10.4. The lining being attached to the reverse in sections by Melinda Hey and Kelly Grimshaw. © The Landi Company 4.11.1. The banner-covered ceiling before the conservation and replication project began. The Stibbert Museum, Florence 4.11.2. A detail of the many repair stitches which passed through the banner’s silk onto the cotton lining. The Stibbert Museum, Florence. Image by Mary Westerman Bulgarella 4.11.3. The Flag Room after conservation. The Stibbert Museum, Florence 4.11.4. The original banners in their permanent storage system. The Stibbert Museum, Florence. Image by Mary Westerman Bulgarella 5.0.1 Preventive conservation aids engage in daily housekeeping activities in the museums, including dusting and cleaning casework. Regular cleaning reduces risks associated with the accumulation of soiling and presents opportunities for careful examination of objects on display. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 5.0.2 Students monitoring relative humidity in textile storage area. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow 5.0.3 Regular cleaning, careful examination and monitoring for pest activity are fundamental to the care and preservation of the artefacts and reproductions displayed in historic interiors. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 5.1.1 Preventive conservation staff members caring for the collection and maintaining A Rich and Varied Culture: The Material World of the Early South exhibition at the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 5.1.2 A carpenter secures traditional shutters, used for protection of an eighteenthcentury structure during a storm. Image by David Doody, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 5.1.3 Reproduction of eighteenth-century Venetian blinds serve to manage natural light in a historic structure. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 5.1.4 Joel Voron, IPM specialist, checks for evidence of structural pests in The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation’s Historic Area. Image by Tom Green, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 5.2.1 The Needlework Room. Light is managed with UV film, wooden shutters, double blinds and replica festoon curtains. The light dose is measured using a data logger and blue wool dosimeter. Dust is recorded at different locations within the room using dust slides. Image by Andrew McGregor, courtesy of the National Trust, Wallington. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 5.2.2 The needlework screen. Natural light has been eliminated from the room and instead the screen is lit by fibre optic lights. The fibre optic lenses are incorporated into a metal kick board, the light being projected from the floor up onto the screen, emphasizing the quality of the needlework. The radiator is controlled through the building management system. Image by Andrew McGregor, courtesy of the National Trust, Wallington. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust xxxiv

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5.2.3 Interpretation material explaining how textiles are easily damaged. Image by Andrew McGregor, courtesy of the National Trust, Wallington. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust 5.3.1 a) Light bulb suspended from the power cords. b) Fosshape® mount with light bulb inside; the power cords go through the neck area of the mount. The mount is held in place by an acrylic rod at shoulder level. c) Blouse with the inner lighting. A wire runs parallel to the power cords to suspend the mount from the ceiling. The power wires connect directly to rails on the ceiling. Diagram by Eva R. Herrera 5.3.2 Left, quilt by Bill Stecher on display; right, blouse by Soledad Tamara Rivas Vásquez on display. Image by Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano 5.3.3 Quilt by Bill Stecher on display. Note the emphasis on the seam lines. Image by Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano 5.3.4 View of the exhibition The Power of an Afterimage: Textile Op Art with a light box on view. Museo Textil de Oaxaca, December 2022–March 2023. Image by Conrado López 5.4.1 The storage of rubber and synthetic items of dress at Hampshire Cultural Trust. © Hampshire County Council. Provided by Hampshire Cultural Trust 5.4.2 A 1970s rubber bathing hat showing distortions and tacky elements that had become adhered to acid-free tissue paper previously used to line the storage box. © Hampshire County Council. Provided by Hampshire Cultural Trust 5.4.3 Left, a mid 1960s skirt which showed cracking and delaminating PVC in the early 2000s. Right, the skirt photographed ten years later, showing a small increase in the white surface accretions. Left, © Hampshire County Council. Provided by Hampshire Cultural Trust. Right, © Hampshire Cultural Trust 5.5.1 The degraded handle of a feather fan (AC2065) which showed yellowing and stiffening. © The Kyoto Costume Institute 5.5.2 The results of FTIR analysis. A total of 149 objects were analysed and classified by material  5.5.3 Comparison between FTIR absorption index spectra of a) tortoiseshell: top, the handle of fan AC2068 (black) and bottom, reference sample from a tortoiseshell ring (red); and b) CN: top, the handle of fan AC2067 (black) and bottom, absorption spectrum of CN from the spectral library (red). Absorption index spectra were obtained by K–K transformation of reflectance spectra and baseline correction. © The Kyoto Costume Institute 5.5.4 After improvement of storage conditions for CN objects: from left to right a feather fan (AC2065), a handbag (AC1422) and a feather fan (AC2067). © The Kyoto Costume Institute 6.0.1 A research associate uses DIC to monitor strain on a vertically mounted tapestry. The software produces maps that show areas of high and low strain. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection and University of Glasgow 6.0.2 A graduate student uses a colourimeter to measure specific colours on embroidery threads. The same locations are measured before and after display to determine any colour differences and provide informed guidance for future displays. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow 6.1.1 Tunic front (291-1891) before treatment. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Photography Ken Jackson © V&A xxxv

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6.1.2 Sketch map of tunic showing staining: (red) staining – visible light; (green) ‘water’ stain 1 – X-ray; (purple) ‘water’ stain 2 – UV absorbent; (blue) body/‘striation’ stain – UV fluorescent. Front of tunic at top of image, proper left of tunic to right of image. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Diagram by Sara Gillies 6.1.3 Preparation for examination under IR: the patched inner tunic front is folded up to expose the stained back. From left: Sara Gillies, Dr Sonia O’Connor. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Photography Elizabeth-Anne Haldane © V&A 6.1.4 X-radiography of the tunic at the V&A. From left: Elizabeth-Anne Haldane, Paul Robbins, Dr Sonia O’Connor, Sara Gillies. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Photography by V&A Science Section © V&A 6.2.1 The nineteenth-century workshops where articles inlaid with semi-precious stones furnishings were made. © Opificio Archive, Ministry of Culture 6.2.2 The Textile Department at Opificio delle Pietre Dure, Florence. © Opificio Archive, Ministry of Culture. Image by Giuseppe Zicarelli, OPD 6.2.3 Left, the front of the manchira before conservation treatment; right, the front after conservation. © Opificio Archive, Ministry of Culture, courtesy of the Stibbert Museum, Florence. Image by Giuseppe Zicarelli, OPD 6.2.4 Left, one side of the ‘coin purse’ before conservation; right, the tomographic image taken before treatment, showing the coins. © Opificio Archive, Ministry of Culture, courtesy of MANN, Naples, Ministry of Culture. Left, image by Ottaviano Caruso. Right, image by Juri Agresti, IFAC-CNR 6.3.1 Princess Elizabeth wearing the dress in 1927. © Historic Royal Palaces 6.3.2 pH measurements taken in triplicate in two locations on the dress using agar gel and a Horiba pH meter. © Historic Royal Palaces 6.3.3 The damaged silk at ×50 magnification revealing a pattern of damage. © Historic Royal Palaces 6.3.4 The central diagram shows the planned method of treatment for different areas of the dress. The surrounding images show the measures followed to mitigate damage during conservation, clockwise from top left: a) patterns were taken using spider tissue and a soft pencil; b) paper patterns were transferred onto Melinex® to block out support fabrics; c)–f) bespoke stitch support was provided, using minimal stitching. © Historic Royal Palaces 6.4.1 Interior of the Margaret Hunter Shop, circa 1963–1969. Objects including the red gown (CWF1947-509) and green petticoat (CWF1953-851) on the left and the blue gown (CWF1960-714,1), petticoat (CWF1960-715), and stomacher (CWF1953-314) on the right are staged alongside a mix of reproductions and accessioned objects such as shoes (CWF1953-318,1&2 and CWF1953984,1&2) and headwear (CWF1952-55) in the wall case on the right and smaller objects such as pocketbooks (CWF1952-341) in the centre front case on the counter. The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation 6.4.2 Detail image of the silk gown (CWF1947-509) and green petticoat (CWF1953851) visible in the corner display case in Figure 6.4.1. Protected areas of the red textile on the interior of the skirt are significantly darker than the exterior of the garment. Light exposure has weakened the green silk, contributing to the structural damage visible just below the waistband. Colour differences between xxxvi

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6.4.3 6.4.4

6.5.1

6.5.2 6.5.3 6.5.4 6.6.1

6.6.2

6.6.3 6.6.4 6.6.5 7.0.1 7.0.2 7.1.1 7.1.2

protected and exposed areas of both objects measure between ΔE 9.5 and ΔE 11.3. Image by Jacquelyn Peterson-Grace, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation The Alaimo gallery in 2020, showcasing flat and three-dimensional textiles from the collection with motion-activated lighting. Image by Jason Copes, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation Marshall Steel Post-graduate fellow in textile conservation Sara Ludueña takes spectrophotometer measurements on CWF1955-175 in the textile lab. The aperture, located on the bottom, must be aligned over the Mylar® template by looking through a small window on the top front of the instrument. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation A 1955 woman’s black felt Mme Pauline hat trimmed with a taxidermy bird of paradise (Accession # 77.146.2). The presence of mercury and chromium was detected on the felt, and arsenic was detected on the taxidermy bird. © The Museum at FIT Alison Casteñada and Cheryl Podsiki discuss the testing of a woman’s 1939 hat with a fabricated feather bird attachment (Accession # 94.51.1). Mercury was detected on the felt and the feathers. Image by Ann Coppinger A circa 1890s Brooks Brothers black silk plush top hat (Accession # 81.138.66a). The presence of lead, arsenic, chromium, and tin was detected. © The Museum at FIT Environmental contractor Tom Zabransky performing air quality testing in the museum’s hat storage space. Image by Ann Coppinger Sample 3.2: the salt crystals of the 50% and 60% markers on the maximum humidity indicator card are surrounded by large blue stains, and the 70% marker has a slight stain. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow The pressure mounts used in Experiment 4, made with different combinations of hygroscopic and hydrophobic materials; each contains a mock-up object, maximum and current humidity indicator cards and a temperature strip. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow Pressure mounts inside the humidity chamber. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow Graph showing the RH fluctuations within the pressure mount samples and the external climate during Experiment 4. © Textile Conservation Foundation/ University of Glasgow The pressure mount used for Experiment 5 with monitoring sensors inside the frame, connected to a data logger. © Textile Conservation Foundation/ University of Glasgow Textile conservation students at the University of Glasgow discussing treatments. © University of Glasgow Stills from a training video showing the parallel use of different conservation methodologies at Saga University in Japan. © Saga University Students assessing objects in the student workroom. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow The demonstrator working with a student, drying a sampler on a vacuum suction table after wet cleaning. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow xxxvii

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Figures

7.3.1 Catriona Rigby painting wool patches with Lascaux Sirius® watercolours. © Morwena Stephens 7.3.2 The ‘Dig for Victory’ dress after conservation, detail of reverse. © Morwena Stephens, with permission of The Box, Plymouth 7.3.3 Martha Peach working on the mount for the cape associated with Millicent Fawcett. © Morwena Stephens 7.3.4 Martha Peach carrying out localized stitched support on the silk covering screens, Arlington Court. © Morwena Stephens 7.4.1 Front of the V&A jack (T.48-2017) after conservation.​© Victoria and Albert Museum, London 7.4.2 Front of the Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation jack (JYF2018.10) after conservation. © Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation 7.4.3 Experimental mock-up of layers making up the jack, including the quilting pattern. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 7.4.4 Experimental mock-up with yellow crystal formation present on the surface of the metal plate (bottom right), in addition to the white wool and undyed linen layers. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London 7.5.1 Felt-making session using locally sourced wool fleece. Reproduced by kind permission of the JICA 7.5.2 Measuring the light level in a show case in the museum galleries. Reproduced by kind permission of the JICA 7.5.3 Making a padded hanger using a paper pattern, cotton cambric and polyester wadding. Reproduced by kind permission of the JICA 7.6.1 Rolling a large devotional scroll in a monastery in Bhutan. Author’s image, National Textile Museum, Thimphu, Bhutan 7.6.2 A traditional scroll storage box is buffered with Marvel Seal, Bhutan. Author’s image, National Textile Museum, Thimphu, Bhutan 7.6.3 Introducing the method of hanging carpets using Velcro® at the Bardo National Museum, Algeria. Author’s image, Musée National du Bardo, Algiers 7.6.4 Training in methods of examination, terminology, and creating detailed descriptions and condition records, Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, Cambodia. Author’s image, Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, Cambodia 7.7.1 The author working on a piece from one of the state beds in the collection. © Historic Royal Palaces 7.7.2 The author in discussion with ceramic specialist during the treatment of sixteenth-century exterior sculpture at Hampton Court Palace. © Historic Royal Palaces 7.7.3 View of the Queen’s Gallery with an array of couture outfits on open display during the Crown to Couture exhibition at Kensington Palace © Historic Royal Palaces 7.7.4 The Main Hall at The Banqueting House, Whitehall, containing the nine largescale Rubens paintings on the ceiling. © Historic Royal Palaces. Photo: James Brittain 8.0.1 Collaboration between a curator, textile conservator and engineer during the University of Glasgow research project From the Golden Age to the Digital Age: Modelling and Monitoring Historic Tapestries. The image was taken

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Figures

8.0.2

8.1.1 8.1.2 8.1.3 8.2.1 8.2.2 8.2.3

8.2.4

8.3.1 8.3.2

8.3.3 8.3.4

8.4.1

in the textile conservation lab at the Burrell Collection. Glasgow Museums’ textile conservators were involved in the research. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection and University of Glasgow Conservators from Zenzie Tinker Conservation working from five-storey scaffolding erected for the purpose of surface cleaning three large Morris & Co tapestry panels at Lancing College Chapel. The work was undertaken in front of the public over several days. © Zenzie Tinker Conservation Screenshot for Instagram explore page for #textileconservation, captured 19 September 2022. Image by Rosie H. Cook The author during a visit to a conservation studio, taking a picture for Instagram of a selection of textile conservation materials. Image by Rosie H. Cook Screenshot of Instagram post made by the author following a visit to the Musée d’Ethnographie de Genève conservation department. Image by Rosie H. Cook The Bacton altar cloth, c.1590s, before treatment. © Historic Royal Palaces/On loan from the Churchwardens and Parish Church Council of St Faith’s Church, Bacton, Herefordshire Two areas of the reverse of the cloth, showing the darts and evidence of pattern cutting. © Historic Royal Palaces/On loan from the Churchwardens and Parish Church Council of St Faith’s Church, Bacton, Herefordshire The Bacton altar cloth showing the brighter colours of the embroidery threads preserved on the reverse face. © Historic Royal Palaces/On loan from the Churchwardens and Parish Church Council of St Faith’s Church, Bacton, Herefordshire This digital image shows how the cloth could be pieced back together by matching the primary botanical motifs and the secondary hunting and fishing scenes. The red squares indicate matches. The black dashed lines indicate the darts, supporting the cloth’s origin as a skirt panel. © Historic Royal Palaces/ On loan from the Churchwardens and Parish Church Council of St Faith’s Church, Bacton, Herefordshire The Cleveland Museum of Art’s Thomas Hope settee before treatment, upholstered in purple poplin. CMA: 2011.3. Purchase, Leonard C. Hanna Fund. Image courtesy of the Cleveland Museum of Art The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Thomas Hope bench before treatment, upholstered in light green silk moiré. MMA: 2014.136. Purchase, The James Parker Charitable Foundation Gift, 2014. Image courtesy of Nancy Britton, Objects Conservation Department, The Metropolitan Museum of Art The Cleveland Museum of Art’s Thomas Hope settee after treatment. CMA: 2011.3. Purchase, Leonard C. Hanna Fund. Image courtesy of the Cleveland Museum of Art The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Thomas Hope bench after treatment. MMA: 2014.136. Purchase, The James Parker Charitable Foundation Gift, 2014. Image courtesy of Nancy Britton, Objects Conservation Department, The Metropolitan Museum of Art Promotion poster for the ‘ASK the Conservator’ programme, 2005. © Historic Royal Palaces

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Figures

8.4.2 The ‘conservation cart’ on site in the State Apartments at Hampton Court Palace, during the conservation of the mattresses of Queen Anne’s State Bed, 2006. © Historic Royal Palaces 8.4.3 The same set-up in the State Apartments was used for the later conservation project of the mattresses of Queen Caroline’s State Bed, 2018. © Historic Royal Palaces 8.4.4 A rare opportunity for visitors to view the spectacular tester of Queen Caroline’s State Bed, 2022. © Historic Royal Palaces 8.5.1 The ‘Inherent Vice’ case. The Secret Life of Textiles: Synthetic Materials, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Antonio Ratti Textile Center, 6 March–4 September 2017.   Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art 8.5.2 Textile conservator Marissa Stevenson discusses the conservation documentation and treatment of shoes, part of an artwork by the artist Marisol, for a visible conservation exhibition. The Art of Conservation, Toledo Museum of Art, 10 March 2021–29 August 2021. Artwork being shown: The Party by Marisol Escobar, 1965–1966, Museum Purchase Fund, by exchange, 2005.42. Image © Toledo Museum of Art 8.5.3 Gallery view of Cycles of Life: The Four Seasons Tapestries. A video documenting the treatment of the tapestries at De Wit Royal Manufacturers was created to illustrate the tapestry conservation process. Cycles of Life: The Four Seasons Tapestries, 13 February 2022–19 February 2023. The Cleveland Museum of Art, Arlene M. and Arthur S. Holden Textile Gallery. Photography © The Cleveland Museum of Art

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TABLES

1.5.1 Electronic work sheet enabling conservators to keep track of hours already worked on a project and those remaining 4.1.1 Standard terms used by LACMA for reporting the condition of textiles 4.1.2 A list of terms commonly used by LACMA textile conservators 5.2.1 Preventive Conservation Audit form used to record conditions in the Needlework Room 5.2.2 The Record of Monitoring and Plan of Care for the Needlework Room 5.3.1 Comparison of annual light exposures (*Landrey & Hoag, 2000: 17) 6.5.1 Summary report of the XRF elemental analysis conducted on 165 objects 6.6.1 The different materials used in the pressure mounts in Experiments 2, 3 and 4

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CONTRIBUTORS

Katherine Barker Katherine Barker, Conservator, Textile Conservation Workshop, holds a BA in Chemistry from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio. Her particular interests include research into cleaning techniques specifically pertaining to historic iron gall components. Alexandra Barlow Alexandra Barlow is an Associate Conservator in The Department of Textile Conservation at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Currently, she is the liaison textile conservator for the American Wing, working with both the American decorative arts and Native American collections. She joined The Met in 2015 to work on the conservation treatment of sixteenth-century and seventeenth-century tapestries for the renovation of the British Galleries. Alexandra received her BA in Anthropology from San Francisco State University and an MA in Fashion and Textile Studies with a focus on conservation from the Fashion Institute of Technology, State University of New York. Cathy Batt Dr Cathy Batt is Senior Lecturer in Archaeological Sciences at the University of Bradford. She has BSc and PhD degrees from the University of Durham. Her research focuses on scientific analysis of archaeological materials, particularly on dating, and she co-authored Analytical Chemistry in Archaeology, published by Cambridge University Press. Kate Blair Kate Blair is Kaitiaki Taonga Conservator Textiles at Te Papa Tongarewa. She gained her BSc in Clothing and Textiles from the University of Otago, and an MPhil in Textile Conservation from the University of Glasgow. Kate pursued textile conservation in the UK and North America before returning home to Aotearoa New Zealand in 2016. She was part of the Te Awe project team at Auckland Museum in 2017–2019. Kate thrives on combining conservation theory and empirical xliii

Contributors

learnings in her approach and has a passion for preserving the mātauranga of makers and practitioners as well as their creations. Julia M. Brennan Julia M. Brennan, Caring for Textiles (www.caringfortextiles.com) is committed to the protection of cultural heritage and education, leading multiple workshops in Asia and Africa. Prioritizing grassroots collaborations, she compiled traditional textile preservation knowledge for present-day practices in the publication Our Ancestors Knew Best. Since 2015, she has established site-­specific and sensitive protocols for triage and long-term care for the history-laden materials of mass atrocities in Rwanda and Cambodia. Julia has worked in the field of textile conservation since 1985 and has a BA from Barnard College, Columbia University, and an MA in art crime from Association for Research in Crimes Against Art. Nancy Britton Nancy Britton was the upholstery conservator at The Metropolitan Museum of Art for nearly 30 years before retiring in 2021. She earned an MSc from the University of Rhode Island and was honoured as an outstanding alumna and received several grants to study collections of historic upholstery. She attended the Attingham Program, Furniture in France, and has authored publications on rush and cane treatments, showcover compensation using digital and hand printing techniques, and a range of upholstery conservation treatments. Lucia Burgio Lucia Burgio FRSC is Lead Conservation Scientist at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. She holds a degree in Chemistry from the University of Palermo, Italy, and a PhD in Chemistry from University College London. She manages the V&A scientific laboratory, guides the scientific analysis and technical examination of museum objects, and provides guidance and expertise in the development of scientific research at the V&A and other institutions. She is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Chemistry and an Honorary Research Fellow at the Department of Chemistry, University College London; she also chairs the Analytical Methods Committee Heritage Science Expert Working Group, Royal Society of Chemistry. Rosie Chamberlin Rosie Chamberlin began work in the cultural heritage sector in 2010, discovering conservation through various roles including Collections Team Assistant and Technician at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Working across the fields of mount making, packing, storage and display, Rosie completed various practical and theoretical studies at the V&A, including an NVQ in Heritage Care, which provided a foundation of knowledge for embarking upon her formal conservation training. Rosie holds an MPhil in Textile Conservation from the University of Glasgow (2014) and a Masters degree in the Conservation of Historic Objects from the University of Lincoln (2018). Following her textile conservation studies, she worked as the sole Textile Conservator at Plowden and Smith Ltd before being employed by Historic Royal Palaces as a Textile Treatment Conservator in 2016, where she currently works across the Tapestry, Furnishings and Costume, and General Textiles teams.

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Contributors

Marta Cimò Marta Cimò works as conservator at the Italian Conservation Institute Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro (OPD), in the Tapestries and Carpets Conservation Department. Together with Claudia Cirrincione, she manages and leads restoration projects and conducts conservation research, publishing numerous specialized articles on the subject. She is also responsible for the Textile and Leather Artefacts Conservation five-year course at OPD’s Advanced Training School, where she teaches Tapestries and Carpets Restoration. Graduating in 2008 in Tapestries and Carpets Conservation at OPD, Marta has worked freelance for ten years in the field of public and private textile heritage conservation, collaborating with Italian museum projects and participating in a textile intervention in Malta. During 2012 she attended a Masters in Conservation of Contemporary Art at OPD, specializing in contemporary textile conservation. Claudia Cirrincione Since 2019 Claudia has been textile conservator and Technical Director of the Tapestries and Carpets Conservation Department of the Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro (OPD). She graduated in 2014 in Conservation and Restoration of Cultural Heritage at the Università di Palermo with a specialization in Textile and Leather Artefacts and particularly in theatrical costumes. In 2020 Claudia obtained her Masters Degree in Scientific Instruments for Mastery and Protection of Cultural Heritage at the Università di Roma. From 2011 she carried out conservation work for government institutions and private customers. From 2014 to 2015 she joined the Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche for research regarding nanostructured material applied in conservation. From 2018 to 2019 she taught Textile Technology at the Accademia di Belle Arti di Palermo. Since 2020 she is instructor of Tapestries and Carpets Restoration at the OPD’s ­Advanced Training School. Karen Clark Karen Clark, Senior Conservator Emeritus, Textile Conservation Workshop, holds an MA from the State University College Buffalo, formerly Cooperstown. She supervised treatments at the Workshop and is a Fellow of the AIC. Jon Clindaniel Jon Clindaniel is an Assistant Senior Instructional Professor in Computational Social Science at the University of Chicago. He is trained as a computational anthropologist and is focused on solving difficult archaeological problems using computational strategies. His current research is centred on deciphering symbols in the undeciphered Inka khipu sign system using a large, opensource archaeological database that he administers – the Open Khipu Repository. Rachael Collinge Rachael Collinge is Kaitiaki Taonga Conservator Textiles at Te Papa Tongarewa. She works within the Collection Care team to help care for textiles, completing remedial treatments and advising on preventive conservation strategies for the display and storage of collections. She has

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Contributors

an MA in Textile Conservation from the Textile Conservation Centre, University of Southampton and a BA in Art History from the University of Auckland. Prior to her study as a conservator, she worked as a Collection Manager and Registrar in contemporary art institutions and social history museums. She continues to learn and be inspired by both museum colleagues and the community. Rosie H. Cook Following a French Baccalaureate in History of the Arts, Rosie studied Chinese and History of Art and Archaeology of Africa and Asia at the University of London, graduating in 2006. She relocated to the Asia-Pacific region and in 2016 received a Masters of Cultural Materials Conservation from the University of Melbourne. Following diverse textile conservation placements in Asia and Australia, she joined the Cheng Shiu University Conservation Center, Taiwan to establish a dedicated textile conservation studio. Since returning to Europe in 2021, she has built a research-based practice centred on decolonization. Ann Coppinger Ann Coppinger has directed the conservation department of the Museum of the Fashion Institute of Technology since 2006. She was the 2001–2002 NEA Master Apprentice at the Textile Conservation Workshop in South Salem, NY, where she continued as a staff conservator for four years. Ann earned an MA in Museum Studies, specializing in costume and textile conservation, from the Fashion Institute of Technology. Prior to taking her museum studies degree, she worked for 22 years in the fashion industry in New York City. Sabine Cotte Sabine Cotte is a French-Australian private conservator, based in Melbourne since 2001. She holds conservation degrees from Institut National du Patrimoine (Paris), ICCROM (Rome) and a PhD from University of Melbourne on the materials and techniques of contemporary artist Mirka Mora. Her PhD led to a book: Mirka Mora, A Life Making Art, published by Thames and Hudson Australia, in 2019, well received by the critics. She has also participated in several workshops in the Himalayan region for UNESCO, ICCROM and private NGOs, focusing on training local people in conservation and in disaster recovery. She has published articles in professional journals and given many talks in national and international conferences. At the University of Melbourne, she is a casual lecturer in the Masters of Cultural Materials Conservation, a tutor in the Masters of Curatorship, and an Honorary Fellow of the Grimwade Centre for Cultural Materials Conservation. Jim Devenport Jim Devenport is a freelance paintings conservator. Formerly he was Senior Lecturer, Easel Paintings, MA Conservation of Fine Arts at the University of Northumbria, retiring in 2002. Dinah Eastop Dinah Eastop, PhD, MA, FIIC, was Senior Lecturer, Textile Conservation Centre, University of Southampton, UK (1998–2009) and Founding Director of the Arts and Humanities Research Council Research Centre for Textile Conservation and Textile Studies (2002–2007), a research collaboration between three UK universities. She co-authored Chemical Principles of Textile xlvi

Contributors

Conservation (with Ágnes Timár-Balázsy, 1998) and co-edited Upholstery Conservation: Principles and Practice (with Kathryn Gill) and the GCI Readings in Textile Conservation (with Mary M. Brooks). She led the Deliberately Concealed Garments Project: www.concealedgarments.org. Linda Eaton The late Linda Eaton will long be recognized around the world for her leadership in the field of interdisciplinary textile scholarship. Linda retired in 2020 as the John T. and Marjorie McGraw Director of Collections after more than 30 years at Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library. Linda shared her knowledge and expertise through teaching hundreds of graduate students in the Winterthur Program in American Material Culture and the Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation. Linda trained at the Textile Conservation Centre/Courtauld Institute of Art. She curated numerous exhibitions. Her publications include Quilts in a Material World: Selections from the Winterthur Collection (2007) and Printed Textiles: British and American Cottons and Linens, 1700–1850 (2014), a revision of Florence Montgomery’s seminal 1970 book. Eaton coauthored with Anne Hilker her last publication, Erica Wilson: A Life in Stitches (2020). Norman Emery Norman Emery is Resident Archaeologist at Durham Cathedral. He is also Secretary of the Esh Winning Colliery Banner Group, and author of Banners of the Durham Coalfield and The Coalminers of Durham. Patricia Ewer Patricia Ewer, the principal of Textile Objects Conservation, LLC, has over 35 years of international experience in treating textiles, as well as managing, developing and staffing conservation projects of all disciplines. She is a Fellow of the American Institute for Conservation, the organization she has been a member of since 1989. Patricia is co-editor with Frances Lennard of the 2010 text Textile Conservation: Advances in Practice. Lara Flecker Lara Flecker leads the costume-mounting team at the Victoria and Albert Museum. She originally trained as a costume maker at Wimbledon School of Art and began her career as a mounter at Historic Royal Palaces before moving to the V&A in 2002. Lara is the author of A Practical Guide to Costume Mounting, first published in 2007. Paul Garside Paul Garside studied Chemistry at the University of Southampton, where he remained to carry out PhD research, investigating and characterizing the properties of natural fibres (awarded in 2002). He subsequently joined the Textile Conservation Centre as Research Fellow in Conservation Science, with a particular interest in plant fibres and weighted silks, and taught the science component of the Centre’s textile conservation MA. He joined the British Library as Conservation Scientist in 2009, where he managed scientific analysis, assessment of long-term behaviours and development of risk management strategies. In 2021 he joined the Kelvin Centre for Conservation and Cultural Heritage Research (University of Glasgow) as Lecturer in Conservation Science. xlvii

Contributors

Nicola Gentle Nicola Gentle trained as a painter at Winchester School of Art. In 1978 she joined the Conservation Department (Textiles Section) of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London, and as Senior Conservator (1988–1994) was in charge of the Osterley Textile Studio. Since 1994, she has worked as a freelance conservation consultant and researcher of historic textiles. She is an Accredited Member (ACR) of the UK Institute of Conservation. Kathryn (Kate) Gill Kathryn (Kate) Gill, FIIC, ACR, FHEA, freelance conservator (2009–2023) and lecturer notably of textiles and upholstery. Following training and employment at the Textile Conservation Centre (TCC), UK (1979–1984), Kate set up upholstery conservation at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, where she was Senior Conservator (1984–1991). Kate was Senior Conservator and Lecturer at the TCC, University of Southampton (1992–2009), combining practical conservation (textile and upholstery) with teaching and research. She has taught on numerous international conservation programmes and courses for professional conservators in practice. Kate has published widely on textile and upholstery conservation. Beth Gillions Beth Gillions discovered conservation during a childhood spent re-enacting and demonstrating historical crafts at heritage sites. After gaining a History BA at King’s College London, Beth completed the MPhil in Textile Conservation at the University of Glasgow. In 2021 she joined the People’s History Museum as a Conservation Officer. Christine Giuntini Christine Giuntini is the textile and organic artefact conservator for the Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas at The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, where she has worked since 1981. She attended the Conservation Program at the Institute of Fine Arts and studied textile conservation under Nobuko Kajitani at The Met. Her particular areas of interest are three-dimensional fibre artefacts, archaeological textiles and feather works, and the development of mounting and exhibition techniques for these types of complex artefacts. Claire Golbourn Claire Golbourn, BSc, ACR, completed her degree in Restoration and Conservation in 1999 at the former London Guildhall University. She worked as preventive conservator for Historic Royal Palaces at Hampton Court before joining the National Trust in 2000. Claire has been Acting Textile Studio Lead at the Textile Conservation Studio since the end of 2021. She has managed a number of large studio-based complex conservation projects, including state beds, as well as participating in on-site teams. She gained her accreditation from Icon in 2014 and has been Treasurer of the Icon Textile Group.

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Contributors

Aimée Grice-Venour Following her HNC training in Traditional Upholstery from Bishop Burton College, Yorkshire, Aimée completed her BA in Conservation and Restoration with First Class Honours from the University of Lincoln. She then completed her MA in the Conservation of Historic Objects, for which she received a distinction. During this time Aimée also worked at The Landi Company Ltd. In 2010 Aimée undertook the National Trust Levy Textile Conservation Internship at the National Trust Textile Conservation Studio in Norfolk. She has remained at the studio as a Textile Conservator since completing her internship in 2012. Aimée’s wide range of experience has included managing studio-based conservation projects and on-site teams. Kelly Grimshaw Kelly Grimshaw, MA, is a Textile Conservator and Director at The Landi Company, Burghley House, Stamford. She holds an MA in Conservation of Cultural Heritage with distinction from the University of Lincoln, with a specialism in textiles. She also holds a Graduate Diploma in Conservation Studies from the University of Lincoln and an undergraduate degree from the University of Nottingham. Kelly carried out work placements in several textile conservation studios, both in the UK and overseas, before joining The Landi Company studio. She served on the Icon Textile Group’s committee for three years as an advocate for students and emerging professionals. Kelly regularly contributes to publications in conservation alongside fellow conservators Louise Shewry and Melinda Hey. Gretchen Guidess Since 2016 Gretchen Guidess has led the textile conservation laboratory at The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation (Virginia, US) where she and her colleagues help care, treat and prepare the decorative and folk art textile collections for exhibition and study. She holds a BA in History from the University of Connecticut and an MS from the Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation with specialization in textiles and preventive conservation. During her graduate work she completed a preventive conservation-focused internship with Wendy C. Jessup & Associates. Her third-year practicum was spent conserving flags at the New York State Battle Flag Preservation Project at Peebles Island (New York) and the Canadian Conservation Institute and quilts at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Following graduation, she was the 2010–2012 Mellon Fellow at Historic New England. She is a professional member of the American Institute for Conservation. Joanne Hackett Joanne Hackett, ACR, graduated with an MS from the Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation in 1998. After graduation she worked as a textile conservator at the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco and then at the Indianapolis Museum of Art. In 2006 she returned to the UK to become a Senior Textile Conservator at the Victoria and Albert Museum, becoming Head of Textile and Fashion Conservation in 2015. She joined the University of Glasgow as Lecturer in Textile Conservation in 2021. She is a fellow of AIC and IIC.

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Contributors

Elizabeth-Anne Haldane Elizabeth-Anne Haldane, ACR, graduated with an MA in Conservation from the Royal College of Art/Victoria and Albert Museum Conservation Course in 1999. She worked at Glasgow Museums, the National Museums of Scotland and the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco before taking up a permanent post at the Victoria and Albert Museum in 2002, where she was promoted to Senior Conservator in 2005 and Lead Textile Conservator in 2021. Robin Hanson Robin Hanson has been textile conservator at The Cleveland Museum of Art for 23 years. In 1997 she completed graduate training in conservation, with a specialization in textiles, at the Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation. She serves as associate editor for textiles for the Journal of the American Institute for Conservation and as field editor for textiles for AATA Online: Abstracts of International Conservation Literature. Susan Heald Susan Heald, textile conservator at the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI) since 1994, has a strong interest in supporting community access to museum collections and diversifying the field of conservation. She has mentored many interns and postgraduate fellows over the years. Prior to NMAI, she served as the Minnesota Historical Society’s first textile conservator. She holds an MS in Art Conservation (textile major/objects minor) from University of Delaware/ Winterthur Museum, and a BA in Chemistry and Anthropology from George Washington University. A former board member of the North American Textile Conservation Conference, she is active in AIC’s Textile Specialty Group and the Materials Working Group. Melinda Hey Melinda Hey, MA, is a Textile Conservator and Director at The Landi Company, Burghley House, Stamford. She completed the MA Conservation of Cultural Heritage with distinction at the University of Lincoln in 2019, following the completion of the Graduate Diploma Conservation Studies in 2016. Melinda also holds a degree in Fine Art Embroidery from Manchester Metropolitan University. She served on the Icon Textile Group’s committee for three years, advocating for emerging professionals and students. Melinda regularly contributes to publications in conservation alongside fellow conservators Louise Shewry and Kelly Grimshaw. Lynda Hillyer Lynda Hillyer, FIIC, began her career in the British Museum designing and making perspex mounts. In 1975 she joined the Department of Oriental Antiquities as an assistant conservator working on a wide variety of materials and objects. She later transferred to the Organics Conservation section where she worked on ethnographic and archaeological material, specializing in fibres. She joined the textile conservation studio at the Victoria and Albert Museum in 1981 and was Head of Textile Conservation from 1989 to 2006. She has published widely on many aspects of textile conservation. Since leaving the V&A she has worked on several projects in museums in India. l

Contributors

Sarah Howard Sarah Howard is a freelance textile conservator and an accredited member of the Institute of Conservation. She has worked with a number of heritage organizations including local and national museums. Sarah has not only been involved with the care and conservation of twentieth-century dress, but has undertaken collections surveys, audits and significance reviews of dress collections, as well as devised and delivered training for museum staff and volunteers including the care of modern materials. Sarah completed a postgraduate Diploma in Textile Conservation from the Textile Conservation Centre in 1992. She joined Hampshire County Council Museums and Archives Service in 1996 as textile conservator responsible for the care and conservation of their Dress and Textiles Collection before later becoming Principal Conservator, managing a cross-disciplinary conservation team and implementing conservation strategy across the organization. Helen M. Hughes Helen Murdina Hughes, BSc, dip Cons (tex), ACR, trained in textile conservation at the Textile Conservation Centre, Hampton Court Palace, then worked in textile conservation at the Rocky Mountain Regional Conservation Centre in Denver, Colorado. Helen joined Glasgow Museums in 1990 and has worked on numerous exhibitions and major projects, such as the redisplay of Kelvingrove, Glasgow’s main museum and art gallery, and the Burrell Collection. She has also supervised Historic Scotland Textile Conservation interns. She is one of the contributors to Glasgow Museums Tapestries from the Burrell Collection (2017) and Scottish Labour History’s Banner Tales: Diverse Voices (2021). Kate Irvin Kate Irvin is Curator and Department Head of Costume and Textiles at the Rhode Island School of Design Museum. Recent projects include: Repair: Sustainable Design Futures (Routledge, 2023), a volume co-edited with Professor Markus Berger, and Inherent Vice, co-curated with Anna Rose Keefe and Jessica Urick. She holds an MS in Textiles with a concentration in Curation from the University of Rhode Island and a BA in Architectural History and Literature & Society from Brown University. Rebecca Johnson-Dibb Rebecca Johnson-Dibb, Conservator, Textile Conservation Workshop, holds an MS in Historic Textiles and Conservation from the University of Rhode Island. Her specialties include woven textiles and historic dyes. Maria Jordan Maria Jordan, ACR, gained a postgraduate diploma in Textile Conservation from the Textile Conservation Centre, Courtauld Institute of Art (1997–2000). In 2000 she joined Historic Royal Palaces, where for 12 years she was a Treatment Conservation Supervisor before moving to the National Trust to take up the post of Studio Manager for the NT Textile Conservation Studio in 2016. During COVID-19, Maria also filled the post of the National Conservator for Textiles until her retirement in December 2021. li

Contributors

Mary Kaldany Mary Kaldany, Senior Conservator, Textile Conservation Workshop, holds an MA in Paintings Conservation from the State University College at Buffalo. Her special interests include all aspects of conservation for painted textiles, including conservation adhesives and the use of the textiles suction table. Masumi Kataoka Masumi Kataoka received an MA in Textile Conservation from the Textile Conservation Centre, University of Southampton, UK. From 2008 to 2011, Masumi spent three years as a fellow at the Gabriella and Leo Beranek Textile Conservation Laboratory, the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, USA, funded by the Sherman Fairchild Foundation. Since 2014, she has worked for the Office of the Shosoin Treasure House, Imperial Household Agency, Japan, and is in charge of the care and long-term preservation of Shosoin textiles. Anna Rose Keefe Anna Rose Keefe is passionate about textiles, design and collaborative conservation work. As assistant textile conservator at the Rhode Island School of Design Museum, she focuses on facilitating access to storage and caring for the collection. She holds an MS in Textile Conservation from the University of Rhode Island and a BA in Material Culture from Mount Holyoke College. Marion Kite Marion Kite, FIIC, was Head of Furniture, Textiles and Fashion Conservation at the Victoria and Albert Museum, becoming Conservator Emerita in 2015. She worked at the V&A for over 40 years; as a ‘bench conservator’ for 30 years, specializing in treating textiles, organic materials and animal products associated with textiles, then managing a large team of organic materials specialists. Marion published widely and lectured internationally extensively. She co-edited The Conservation of Leather and Related Materials with Roy Thomson (Elsevier, 2006). She was Chairman of the Leather Conservation Centre, Northampton, for over 10 years, a Trustee of the Museum of Leathercraft, and Trustee of The Gloves Collections Trust. She served on the Directory Board of ICOM-CC, on the Council of IIC and on the Church Buildings Council Sculpture and Furnishings Committee. Currently Marion is advisor to the Animal and Plant Health Agency on furs and products from protected species found in dress and related textiles objects. Barbara Lehrecke Barbara Lehrecke worked as a costumier before completing a master apprenticeship at the Textile Conservation Workshop. She specializes in textile-related objects with three-dimensional properties. Frances Lennard Professor Frances Lennard worked as a textile conservator for 15 years, at the Textile Conservation Centre and in private practice with Fiona Hutton, before moving to the academic sphere and becoming the convenor of the postgraduate textile conservation programme at the University of lii

Contributors

Southampton and later at the University of Glasgow. Her research focused on conservation treatment and interdisciplinary practice; she is particularly interested in the treatment of woven tapestry, painted textiles and Pacific barkcloth. She became an Honorary Professorial Research Fellow at the University of Glasgow in 2021. Ksynia Marko Ksynia Marko, BA, ACR, trained at the Victoria and Albert Museum. She joined the National Trust in 1991 as manager of the Blickling Textile Conservation Studio in Norfolk, having previously run her own freelance conservation studio in London for 11 years. In 1995 she became the Trust’s Textile Conservation Advisor, eventually retiring in 2018. Her experience of project planning and management has grown through necessity and practice, from running a business, designing studio premises and working with many different groups of people on a variety of projects. Fiona McLaughlan Fiona McLaughlan graduated in 2002 from De Montfort University, UK as an objects conservator. She subsequently worked for The National Trust, The Royal Armouries, NZ Antarctic Heritage Trust and University of Cambridge Scott Polar Research Institute. Fiona moved to New Zealand in 2011 to take up the post of Conservator at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum in Dunedin. Catherine McLean Catherine McLean, Senior Textile Conservator, was the head of the costume and textile conservation laboratory at Los Angeles County Museum of Art until her retirement in March 2023. She came to the museum in 1980 after completing her MS in Art Conservation from the University of Delaware/Winterthur Museum Art Conservation Program. A Michigan native, Catherine’s preparations for her conservation career included a BA in Art History with a minor in Chemistry from the University of Michigan. Post-retirement, she became the 2023 AIC Sheldon and Caroline Keck Award winner for excellence in the education and training of conservation professionals. Miriam McLeod Miriam McLeod is Textile Conservator at National Museums Scotland and specializes in the conservation, mounting and display of costume. Miriam led the conservation and mounting for Body Beautiful: Diversity on the Catwalk (2019–2022) and for the museum’s Fashion and Style gallery (2016). She is currently working with Georgina Ripley to develop an existing permanent display of contemporary fashion to become more visually inclusive with the use of adapted mannequins. Miriam’s previous textile conservation experience included working at the Victoria and Albert Museum and Museum of London before she returned to Edinburgh in 2007. She is interested in how conservation can support and further inclusion within museums in relation to costume display. Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano gained his degree in Conservation from the Escuela Nacional de Conservación, Restauración y Museografía ‘Manuel del Castillo Negrete’ – INAH, in Mexico City. He was Conservator and Collections Manager at the Museo Textil de Oaxaca (MTO) from 2008 to 2012, when he became Director. He has additionally worked as Curator and Exhibitions liii

Contributors

Designer at the MTO since 2011. He is Co-organizer of the Encuentro de Textiles Mesoamericanos, held biennially in Oaxaca City since 2014. He has been a Board Member of the North American Textile Conservation Conference since 2008. Laura Mina Laura Mina serves as Conservator of Textiles with the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History & Culture. Previous institutions include a joint appointment with Winterthur Museum and the University of Delaware, the Costume Institute at The Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Philadelphia Museum of Art. She received her BS in Performance Studies from Northwestern University and her MA in Fashion and Textile Studies: History, Theory, Museum Practice (conservation focus) from the Fashion Institute of Technology. She has led multiple workshops on the use of gels for textile treatments. Denyse Montegut Denyse Montegut graduated from the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University, where she has continued to lecture for the last 15 years. She was professor and chairperson of the Fashion and Textile Studies MA programme at the Fashion Institute of Technology for 26 years (retired in 2021). She has a small private practice which includes contract conservation work for the Guggenheim Museum. Bernice Morris Bernice Morris received an MA in Textile Conservation from the TCC, University of Southampton (2005) and a BA in History of Art and Italian from Birmingham University, UK (2002). She has worked at the Philadelphia Museum of Art since 2005 and is currently the Conservator of Costume and Textiles. Bernice has taught at the Fashion Institute of Technology, NY and at the Winterthur University of Delaware Art Conservation programme. Bernice has a particular interest in textile production techniques, contemporary fibre art and fashion display, and integrated pest management for museums. Sonia O’Connor Dr Sonia O’Connor, FIIC, ACR, Archaeological Sciences, University of Bradford, has worked in archaeological conservation for over 30 years. She specializes in the radiography of cultural material and is co-author, with Mary M. Brooks, of the book X-Radiography of Textiles, Dress and Related Objects, published in 2007 by Elsevier. Claire Orbell Claire Orbell holds a Graduate Diploma in Museum Studies from The University of Sydney (2007) and an MA in Archaeology and Ancient History from the University of Auckland (1995). She joined the team at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum in Dunedin, NZ as Registrar in November 2010, having previously been Registrar at Te Awamutu Museum and part of the Registration team at Tāmaki Paenga Hira Auckland War Memorial Museum.

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Contributors

Kate Orfeur Kate Orfeur, ACR, studied Organic Conservation at Camberwell College of Arts, before joining Historic Royal Palaces’ Textile Conservation Studio in 2003. She is the Treatment Conservation Supervisor of Tapestry and Furnishings. Patsy Orlofsky Patsy Orlofsky, Executive Director, Textile Conservation Workshop, received a Bachelor of Science degree from Skidmore College, and her graduate work was in the Masters Degree programme for Preservation Administration in Columbia University’s School of Library Service Conservation Education Programs. Her special interests include American textiles and Judaic objects. Lauren Osmond Lauren Osmond is a conservator specializing in the care of textiles and clothing. She holds a Master of Art Conservation in Artifacts from Queen’s University, a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Fibres and Material Practices from Concordia University, and a Fashion Design diploma from Blanche MacDonald. Lauren completed an Andrew W. Mellon Fellowship at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian and a Samuel H. Kress Fellowship at the Victoria and Albert Museum and has held positions at the Canadian Conservation Institute and the Textile Museum of Canada. As an active member of the Canadian Association for Conservation, Lauren is a founding member of the CAC’s (Re)conciliation Working Group. In addition to her conservation experience, Lauren has exhibited textile, electronic and wearable performance-based artwork in Canada and abroad. This feeds her broader professional interests around the conservation ethics of exhibiting and caring for interactive, living and wearable objects. Cecilia Pardo Cecilia Pardo is an archaeologist and curator from Peru. She is currently a Project Curator in the Department of Africa, Oceania and the Americas at the British Museum and was Lead Curator for the exhibition Peru: A Journey in Time (November 2021–February 2022). She previously worked at the Museo de Arte de Lima, in Peru, where she curated more than ten exhibitions on Ancient Peru (2006–2019). She is currently pursuing a PhD in the Sainsbury Research Unit, University of East Anglia. Elizabeth E. Peacock Elizabeth E. Peacock is a research conservator and Professor (Emerita) of Conservation at the NTNU University Museum, Norwegian University of Science and Technology, Trondheim, Norway, and previously the University of Gothenburg, Sweden. Her research interests encompass conservation, taphonomy and diagenesis of organic archaeological materials; conservation pedagogy and education; textile and leather science; care of museum collections; and preservation and management of archaeological sites. She has extensive experience as a practising conservator, teaches and lectures widely in conservation practice with a research focus and has hosted numerous conservation interns.

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Contributors

Sara Pearce Sara Pearce (née Gillies) is currently an Education and Public Programs Officer at Sovereign Hill Museums Association, Australia. Previously she was the Education and Public Programs Officer at the National Wool Museum, Australia and in regional museums in Canada. She holds an Honours Bachelor of Arts in History from Lakehead University, looking at the establishment of the textile industry in New France, an MA in the History of Medicine from University College London and an MSc in Archaeology at the University of Bradford, for which the scientific analysis of a seventh/ eighth-century Egyptian tunic in the collections of the V&A formed the basis of her dissertation. Anne Peranteau Anne Peranteau is Manager Collection Care Practice at Te Papa. She started at Te Papa in 2008 as Kaitiaki Taonga Conservator Textiles and moved into her team management role in 2019. She received her MS in Fine Art Conservation from the Winterthur University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation in 2004, majoring in Textile Conservation with a minor in Preventive Conservation. Her passion is learning from and with others, enabling and activating mana taonga. Jacquelyn Peterson-Grace Jacquelyn Peterson-Grace is the Associate Textile Conservator at The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. She completed a Master of Science from the Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation in 2018 with concentrations in textile and preventive conservation and holds a Bachelor of Science degree in Conservation Studies from Marist College. As a graduate student, she completed internships in the textile conservation labs at the Victoria and Albert Museum, the Philadelphia Museum of Art and Peebles Island Resource Center. She worked closely with collections care staff at the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in Cambodia from 2018 to 2020 to address textile preservation needs. Caroline Rendell, ACR Caroline Rendell, ACR, trained at the Textile Conservation Centre and was awarded a Diploma in Textile Conservation. After working for Leeds City Museums, she joined the National Trust in 1986 as National Trust Conservator with responsibilities for her portfolio properties, combining this with her work as a freelance textile conservator. She left the Trust in 2009, continuing work as a freelance conservator. Georgina Ripley Georgina Ripley is Principal Curator of Modern and Contemporary Design at National Museums Scotland, where she is responsible for the fashion and textile collections dating from 1850 to the present. Her exhibitions include the international touring show, Body Beautiful: Diversity on the Catwalk (2019–2022), and she was lead curator for the museum’s permanent Fashion and Style gallery, which opened in 2016. She is the editor of Little Black Dress: A Radical Fashion, published in 2023 to coincide with the exhibition, Beyond the Little Black Dress. Her current research focuses on progress toward diversity, equity and inclusion in the fashion industry; representation of intersectional masculinities in contemporary styling and photography; and the museum’s extensive archive of British fashion designer Jean Muir (fl. 1962–1995). Georgina is a Board Member of lvi

Contributors

the ICOM Costume Committee and holds a MA in the History of Art from the Courtauld Institute of Art. Zoe Roberts Having gained an undergraduate degree in Modern History, Zoe undertook an MA in Textile Conservation at the Textile Conservation Centre, University of Southampton, between 1999 and 2001, followed by a one-year Historic Scotland internship at Glasgow Museums. From 2002 she has worked for Historic Royal Palaces, first as a textile conservator and between 2006 and 2016 as the Commissioned Treatment Conservation Supervisor. Between 2012 and 2014 she studied part-time for an MSc in Building Surveying and since 2016 has worked as a Building Surveyor and Project Manager. She is both an accredited conservator and Chartered Building Surveyor with a passionate belief in the value of a holistic approach to the preservation of the historic environment. Nicole Rode Nicole Rode is an Organic Artefact Conservator at the British Museum, specializing in textiles and modern materials. She gained a Master of Textile Conservation from the Textile Conservation Centre, University of Southampton, UK, in 2003. She has been an accredited member of Icon since 2013. Guia Rossignoli Guia Rossignoli has an MA degree from Opificio delle Pietre Dure in Textile Conservation and from Università della Tuscia, Viterbo in Conservation of Cultural Heritage. She was Senior Fellow at The Metropolitan Museum of New York with research on their collection of leather fragments and ICCROM fellow with research on vegetable fibre artefacts from Ancient Egypt. Among various technical publications on textile conservation, she is the author of the book Cuoi d’oro. Corami da tappezzeria, paliotti e cuscini del Museo Stefano Bardini. After many years of private practice with her company at the Textile Museum in Prato, she is employed by the Ministry of Cultural Heritage at Opificio delle Pietre Dure as textile conservator and lecturer of Textile and Leather Technical Disciplines at the Advanced Training School of the Institute. She is currently developing projects with the Institute of Applied Physics ‘Nello Carrara’ (IFAC)-Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche (National Research Council) on the effect of laser on feathers and textiles. Kloë Rumsey Kloë Rumsey completed an MSc in Conservation Practice at Cardiff University and worked in several objects conservation roles with world cultures and industrial collections. She joined the team at The People’s History Museum Textiles Conservation Studio in 2017 as an objects conservator, and has since specialized in the conservation of large painted textiles. Outside the museum, she is known in the conservation community as one of the two hosts of The C Word: The Conservators Podcast. Moe Sato Moe Sato is Textile Conservator at the Tokyo National Museum (TNM) in Japan. She received her PhD in Conservation Science in 2012 from the Kyoto Institute of Technology, Japan and lvii

Contributors

undertook scientific studies on the conservation of iron-tannate textiles funded by a Japan Society for the Promotion of Science fellowship. After completing an MPhil programme in Textile Conservation at the University of Glasgow in 2014, she trained at the Abegg-Stiftung textile conservation workshop in Switzerland as a postgraduate intern and at the Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, as a senior research intern. From 2016 she was Assistant Conservator at the Kyoto Costume Institute in Japan, before joining the TNM in 2020. Sarah Scaturro Sarah Scaturro is the Eric and Jane Nord Chief Conservator of The Cleveland Museum of Art. Previously she was the head conservator of the Costume Institute, Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Textile Conservator and Assistant Fashion Curator of the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian ­Design Museum. She is completing her doctoral dissertation at Bard Graduate Center on the ­history of costume conservation in the United States, Canada and the UK. Susan R. Schmalz Susan R. Schmalz, Head Textile Conservator, has worked at Los Angeles County Museum of Art since 1997. Originally from Vancouver, Canada, she received her graduate degree in Conservation from the State University College at Buffalo in 1996 and also holds an MFA in Studio Arts from Virginia Commonwealth University. Her past work experience in conservation includes working for a private painting conservator in Richmond, VA and interning at the National Park Service, Division of Conservation in Harpers Ferry, WV. Chris Scott Chris Scott is Keeper of Industry, Beamish Museum, County Durham. He joined the staff of Beamish Museum in 2004 after completing a Masters in Heritage Education and Interpretation. His first degree was in Archaeology. Louise Shewry Louise Shewry, MA, is a Textile Conservator and Director at The Landi Company, Burghley House, Stamford. She holds an MA in Conservation of Cultural Heritage with distinction from the University of Lincoln and also an MA in Textiles from the Royal College of Art, as well as undergraduate degrees from the universities of Leeds and Loughborough. Louise had ten years’ experience as an international textile designer, working in Australia and Europe, before pursuing her career in conservation. Louise, alongside fellow conservators Melinda Hey and Kelly Grimshaw, regularly contributes to publications in conservation. Patricia Silence Patricia Silence began her career at The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation as an Associate Exhibits Conservator in 1999. She is currently the Director of Conservation Operations. Her department consists of nine specialized departments, including media-specific conservation labs, materials analysis and preventive conservation, the largest group. Prior to 2017, she was the Foundation’s first Director of Preventive Conservation. She works with collections colleagues all over lviii

Contributors

the world to practise and promote preventive conservation. Before coming to Williamsburg, Patty was a textile conservator at the Textile Conservation Center in Lowell, MA and a conservation technician at the Nelson Atkins Museum of Art, Kansas City, MO. Emma Smith Emma Smith is the Andrew W. Mellon Fellow in Textile Conservation (2022–2024) at the National Museum of the American Indian. Emma holds an MPhil in Textile Conservation from the University of Glasgow. Previous experience includes placements, internships and work contracts within the British Museum, British Library, Victoria and Albert Museum, and Abegg-Stiftung. Prior to becoming a conservator, Emma gained a BA in Archaeology and Anthropology from the University of Cambridge. She has had a number of roles within the heritage field, notably as a field archaeologist on numerous projects including the Ness of Brodgar, Orkney, and as a Research Assistant for the European Research Council-funded PROCON Project, McDonald Institute for Archaeology, University of Cambridge. Katy Smith Katy Smith, ACR, is a Senior Textile Conservator at the Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Following a BSc in Archaeology, she completed an MA in Principles of Conservation and an MSc in Conservation for Archaeology & Museums at the Institute of Archaeology, University College London. She achieved a diploma in Textiles Conservation through work-based practice at the V&A. While Textile Conservator at The Bowes Museum, County Durham, she supervised yearlong Icon internships in Textile Conservation and later worked as Senior Organics Conservator at the British Museum. She is currently involved in an ALIPH Foundation-funded collaboration between the V&A and the Palestinian Museum to establish the first textile conservation studio in Palestine. Having previously served on Icon’s Textile Group committee, she is currently the Conservation Representative for the Dress & Textiles Specialists network and sits on the Sculpture & Furnishings Committee for the Church Buildings Council. Morwena Stephens Morwena Stephens, ACR, trained at the Textile Conservation Centre, affiliated to the Courtauld Institute, University of London. While training, she had placements and contracts at LP3 Conservation and Musée de l’Armée, and at the Fitzwilliam Museum. After a contract at the Museum of Welsh Life, she was a Museums & Galleries Commission intern in Ethnographic Conservation at the Royal Albert Memorial Museum, Exeter. Since then, Morwena has worked as a freelance conservator with projects for the National Trust, museums and private clients, and a 2002 fellowship at the National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution, US. She carries out interventive conservation treatments alongside collections care consultancy and training, specializing in world cultures, costume and textiles. Ben Stern Dr Ben Stern is Lecturer in Archaeological Sciences at the University of Bradford. He has a BSc in Chemistry (1992, Bristol) and a PhD in Biomineral Lipids in Living Fossil Molluscs (1996, Newcastle). His research falls at the interface between analytical chemistry and archaeology, and lix

Contributors

he is interested in the identification of the ‘archaeologically invisible’ by the correct application of analytical techniques. Howard Sutcliffe Howard Sutcliffe is the principal conservator and director of River Region Costume and Textile Conservation, a private practice based in Arley, AL and Nashville, TN. River Region provides collection management advice, collection surveys and conservation treatment services for individual and institutional clients throughout the US. Howard has previously worked as the Head Textile Conservator at the Detroit Institute of Arts and in the textile conservation studios at the Philadelphia Museum of Art and American Textile History Museum in the US, and at the National Trust and National Museums Liverpool in his native UK. He is a Fellow of the ­American Institute for Conservation and a board member of the North American Textile Conservation Conference. Mika Takami Mika Takami, ACR, joined Historic Royal Palaces (HRP)’s Textile Conservation Studio in 2002, having gained a postgraduate diploma in Textile Conservation from the Textile Conservation Centre, Courtauld Institute of Art (1997–2000) followed by two Mellon Fellowships completed in the USA (2000–2002). She began her conservation career initially in Japan. She has been the Treatment Conservation Manager at HRP since 2014 for the textile conservation team at Hampton Court and commissioned conservation treatments for other collections at HRP’s six sites. Rangituatahi Te Kanawa Dr Rangituatahi Te Kanawa (Ngati Maniapoto) is a conservator of textiles, specializing in Māori textiles. In 1990 Rangi completed her Bachelor of Science in Conservation of Cultural Materials at the University of Canberra and subsequent internships at the Textile Conservation Centre, Hampton Court and the British Museum. In 2005 Rangi completed her Master of Science degree at Victoria University Wellington, New Zealand. In 2021, she completed her doctorate in Museum and Heritage Studies at Victoria University, Wellington. The title of her doctorate is Mana Taonga Kākahu: Exploring Approaches to Reconnecting Taonga Kākahu to Tangata Whenua. Rangi presents workshops and Expert Knowledge Exchange visits to custodians of private and museum collections throughout New Zealand under the auspices of the National Services Te Paerangi outreach arm of the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa. Karen Thompson Karen Thompson graduated from the Textile Conservation Centre, Hampton Court Palace/ Courtauld Institute of Art. She is currently co-convenor for MPhil Textile Conservation, University of Glasgow. She has worked as a conservator in private practice and at museums in the UK and internationally. She is a qualified teacher with experience working beyond the conservation sector.

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Contributors

Libby Thompson Libby Thompson is Textile Conservation Supervisor at Historic Royal Palaces (HRP) with special responsibility for the nationally designated Royal Ceremonial Dress Collection. As well as textile conservation, she has spent time as an HRP Object Curator after graduating with an MA in Textile Conservation from the Textile Conservation Centre at the University of Southampton. Zenzie Tinker Zenzie Tinker, ACR, currently leads a large independent textile conservation studio in the UK, Her conservation career began almost 40 years ago. After a History of Design degree, Zenzie completed an apprenticeship in textile and tapestry conservation under Ksynia Marko in 1988 followed by the Museums Association Certificate in Textile Conservation in 1991. Zenzie worked as a conservator and then senior conservator at the Museum of London and the Victoria & Albert Museum specializing in costume until 2003, when she set up her studio in Brighton. Zenzie Tinker Conservation undertakes work for a wide range of clients including the National Trust, national and international museums, and private collectors. She served as an accreditation assessor for Icon for ten years and is currently Conservation Advisor for the Royal Courts of Justice Legal Dress Collection in London. Licia Triolo Licia Triolo is a textile conservation officer for the Ministry of Culture, working at Opificio delle Pietre Dure in Florence. She is currently attending the XXXVI cycle of the PhD programme at the University of Florence with a project on the conservation and display of stage costumes. She graduated in 2003 in Conservation of Cultural Heritage from the University of Pisa with a thesis on ceroplastics in art and in 2005 completed the Master in Materials and Diagnostic Techniques in the Sector of Cultural Heritage. In 2009 she graduated from the Opificio in restoration of textile artefacts. Since then she was a freelance textile conservator of the Institute, Textile Museum in Prato and other institutions until 2018; she has also taught on various postgraduate specialization courses and advanced professional training courses. Deborah Lee Trupin Deborah Lee Trupin graduated from the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University. She worked for many years for the New York State Bureau of Historic Sites (Peebles Island). Since 2015, she has maintained a small private practice and served as an Adjunct Professor at the Fashion Institute of Technology. She is a Fellow of the American Institute for Conservation. Jessica Urick Jessica Urick is a Textile Conservator for the Rhode Island School of Design Museum, where she oversees the conservation, care and handling of over 35,000 costume and textile objects. She holds an MS in Textiles with a concentration in Conservation from the University of Rhode Island and a BA in Art Conservation from the University of Delaware.

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Contributors

Jennifer van Enckevort Jennifer van Enckevort, ACR, graduated with an MA in Textile Conservation from the Royal College of Art/Victoria and Albert Museum in 2009. Since then she has worked in private practice and at the National Museum of Wales, before coming to Manchester in 2014 to join the team at the People’s History Museum (PHM). Jenny gained her accredited status in 2017 and now manages the Textile Conservation Studio at PHM. Mary Westerman Bulgarella Mary Westerman Bulgarella obtained a Bachelors degree in Art History and a Master’s degree in the Conservation of Artistic Works, and subsequently trained in textile and costume conservation. Her professional work focuses not only on interventions and their documentation but also on problems pertaining to the research of materials and methods of storage and display. She has collaborated with an array of museums and institutions in Italy and abroad and has published many articles on conservation-related subjects. She has had a long career as a freelance consultant on conservation projects as well as spearheading conferences on significant textile and costume themes. Kaoru Yui Kaoru Yui began in 2023 as the Assistant Conservator at the Kyoto Costume Institute, Kyoto, Japan, her home country. After graduating in 2020 with a Master of Art Conservation from Queen’s University, Ontario, Canada, she was the Andrew W. Mellon Fellow in Costume and Textile Conservation at Los Angeles County Museum of Art, 2021–2023. Past experience includes work with several Canadian cultural institutions, including the Owens Art Gallery in New Brunswick, the Royal Ontario Museum and the Canadian Conservation Institute.

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ABBREVIATIONS

AIC American Institute for Conservation AICCM Australian Institute for the Conservation of Cultural Materials American Institute for Conservation, Textile Specialty Group AIC TSG CCI Canadian Conservation Institute Foundation for Advancement in Conservation FAIC GCI Getty Conservation Institute International Council of Museums ICOM ICOM-CC International Council of Museums, Committee for Conservation The Institute of Conservation (UK) Icon The Institute of Conservation, Textile Group Icon TG ICCROM International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Property IIC International Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works Journal of the American Institute for Conservation JAIC NATCC North American Textile Conservation Conference  UKIC United Kingdom Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works UKIC TS United Kingdom Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works, Textile Section United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization UNESCO

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CHAPTER 1

Textile conservation within the cultural sector

1

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-1

OVERVIEW As stated in our original 2010 text, conservators have worked within a changing world since the pioneers in textile conservation established the profession. At that time the financial crisis of 2008 was having an effect on the cultural sector and the work life of conservators. Today a number of other social, political and cultural shifts are influencing the working environment of the conservator.

Recent developments On a positive note, the years since 2010 have seen tremendous growth in our field, of popular blockbuster exhibitions featuring costumes and textiles. In 2011 the show Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty was featured at The Metropolitan Museum of Art (The Met) and in 2015 at the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A). The Christian Dior: Designer of Dreams exhibition at the V&A in 2019 broke attendance records, as did the Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination exhibition at The Met in 2018 (Art & Object, 2019; The Met, 2023a; 2023b). More specific to textiles was The Met’s exhibition Interwoven Globe: The Worldwide Textile Trade, 1500–1800 (2013). The promotion of these exhibitions inspired the public’s curiosity in the scholarship, curatorship, presentation and conservation of these pieces. This may have also crossed over from the attention gained in the popular media in television shows such as The Repair Shop, Project Runway and Secrets of the Museum (BBC One, 2023; BBC Two, 2023; Bravo TV, 2023). These shows may have gained more viewers during the pandemic. Individuals also realized they could easily gain access to the museums’ collection databases and YouTube videos – some of which featured conservation. This helped to promote increased professional activity in museum loan programmes and research. At the same time as these wonderful events were happening, significant political and cultural shifts throughout the world continued to affect us (Teeter & Camp, 2021). Some examples of these changes since 2010 include the 2016 Brexit movement (The Economist, 2016), economic fluctuations, the global COVID-19 pandemic, conflict in the Middle East, Northern Africa and Ukraine, and ongoing natural disasters reflecting the renewed focus on climate change and sustainability. The 2020 death of George Floyd and the ensuing protests (Libor, 2020) opened greater discussions on the role of museums for the African American community as well as other marginalized groups. This succeeded in giving increased attention, visibility and action to issues of diversity, equity, accessibility and inclusion. While progress on these issues has been made, more work remains to be done. These situations, especially the pandemic, created exaggerated divisions amongst citizens, thus affecting heritage culture throughout the world. Here we briefly review several of these recent developments.

Economy Did Brexit aid or hurt the cultural sector? Museum professionals suspected that it could curtail touring exhibitions with the EU due to increased expense (London Assembly, 2021). The pandemic probably had a stronger negative effect. Our first book was written during the 2008 financial crisis when the British government made massive cuts in funding for

3

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-2

Textile conservation within the cultural sector

museums. Our first case study by Hughes looks back to that time when museum management was making aggressive changes that affected every employee and project output. Financial support was renewed in 2013 after lobbying by the UK Museums Association. Their campaigns such as advocacy, decolonization, anti-racism and climate justice have grown yearly. The American Alliance of Museums (AAM) expressed that the US was much slower at embracing these ideas until a report was issued in 2021 by the Institute of Museum and Library Services ‘illuminating how cultural institutions in the US are partnering with other community groups to enhance education and public health’ (AAM, 2023).

Pandemic The pandemic had a huge impact on the museum sector and, as in other fields, accelerated the development of new media formats that was already underway. Museums have exploited the development of the internet in many ways. A museum’s website not only promotes ­access to collections but has also become an essential marketing and information tool. Institutions created YouTube, Zoom and TikTok gallery tours. Programming, lectures and videos, with some focusing on conservation topics, were developed. The publication of online exhibitions and collections’ images on the museums’ websites provided greater intellectual access not only to curators and scholars but to the broad and diverse general public as well. Digital programming was an economically viable way to function with minimal staff on site. The AAM 2023 online series Reopenings: What Museums Learned Leading through Crisis gives an overview of the effects of the pandemic on the worldwide museum industry (AAM, 2023). Organizations enhanced their digital solutions to present their ‘reflection on their diverse communities … social impact … and engagement with people they serve; and finally, museum leaders’ responsibility to those who work for them’ (AAM, 2023). The series concluded with thoughts about what was learned during the crisis. Key lessons included a continued commitment to diverse audiences and an in-depth understanding of how museums’ disaster preparedness initiatives worked and perhaps are now better positioned for the future (AAM, 2023).

Conflicts The armed conflicts and the risks to cultural heritage invoked conservator responses on a global level through such venues as blogs and conservation forums. The internet again facilitated the communication of all these professional groups, even those in the conflict zones (Yanchyshyn, 2022). The International Centre for the Study of the Preservation and Restoration of Cultural Property (ICCROM) First Aid and Resilience for Cultural Heritage in Times of Crisis Programme (FAR) ‘developed a web and mobile app to collect damage and risk data in Ukraine’ (ICCROM, 2023).

Climate change, natural disasters and sustainability Today’s natural disasters are exacerbated by climate change. Extreme temperature swings, precipitation, tornadoes, hurricanes and floods are increasing in intensity (Roche, 2022). This affects our buildings and the objects inside buildings and storage places. Maintaining

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Overview

ideal environments in a sustainable manner for our collections is part of the conservators’ and collection managers’ remit (Lindner, 2023). Most of our international professional organizations have committees with newsletters, guides, podcasts and discussion groups to assist conservators in sustainability practices (AIC/FAIC, 2023a; Icon, 2023). Conservators continue to be available during times of natural disaster. In the US, many are part of the National Heritage Responders in addition to other professional archivists and collections managers (AIC/FAIC, 2023b). A new ‘disaster’ came to light for conservators recently regarding climate change, and that is climate activism. Currently, it is manifested by individuals adhering themselves to museum paintings or throwing liquids at famous paintings in order to make a political statement regarding the climate emergency. In return, our international conservation and museum organizations have put out statements such as ICOM’s Statement: Museums and Climate Activism (2022).

George Floyd The public response generated in the aftermath of George Floyd’s death produced an ­impromptu memorial at the site of his death and inspired artists to comment worldwide (Figure 1.0.1). The family and local community coalesced and launched a dedicated nonprofit, The George Floyd Global Memorial, five months after his death. They are dedicated to the care, conservation and preservation of the offerings left at the site.1 Black Lives Matter movements nationwide have led to the creation of The Black Art Conservators group. They demand racial justice in art conservation and request ‘True BIPOC solidarity’.2 A tremendous number of conservators have chosen to stand behind this group in their efforts to expand social justice.

Figure 1.0.1  We Are the Story. Co-presented exhibitions by Textile Center and the Women of Color Quilters Network and curated by Carolyn L. Mazloomi, at the Textile Center, 10 September 2020–12 June 2021.  © Textile Center.

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Overall impact of socioenvironmental and political changes In summation, these combined global situations have generated new institutional thoughts on sustainability, climate change, decolonization, diversity, inclusion, equity, racism, community engagement and accessibility.3 These are reflected in a growing diversity of museum offerings which better reflect our changing society. Our next case study by McLeod and Ripley is an outstanding example of one museum’s exhibition. Many of these developments overlap with common themes. The response by the museum field is often woven together and becomes an integrated response. This bodes well for the future of museums and museum specialists. They will hopefully not just be ‘buzzwords’ but rather embraced as our professional organizations take this new way forward. Conservators are already fully engaged and eagerly making positive contributions. The collaborations between conservators and curatorial staff of the People’s History Museum to produce the exhibition showcasing disability activism is a case in point (Figure 1.0.2); Rumsey & van Enckevort, 2022–23).

Effects on conservation posts Pressures on government spending have a direct impact on the heritage sector and conservation jobs. The pre-pandemic era found museums developing strategic plans that focused on

Figure 1.0.2 The exhibition, Nothing About Us Without Us – Disabled People’s Activism: Past, Present and Future, at the People’s History Museum, 2022–2023.  © People’s History Museum.

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Overview

expanded use of their collections. The goal of these plans was to attract a more diverse audience and secure increased income. During the 2020 pandemic, AAM reported that ‘90% of the world’s museums had to close their doors. The loss of visitors, admission fees and revenue streams eviscerated museums’ operating budgets and workforces. How to stay relevant’ (AAM, 2023). Indeed, for many conservators, it became a time of how to stay employed. The post-pandemic era has seen museums slowly regaining their visitor numbers, and hopefully increasing budgets. By the summer of 2023, travel regained its appeal and many European museums were breaking attendance records (Hess, 2023). There was also the renewal of blockbuster exhibitions at major institutions such as The Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute’s 2023 exhibition, Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty. During the pandemic, the actual collections were rested. While some institutions found this period financially challenging and needed to institute staff reductions or layoffs, others took this opportunity to enhance collections and building care, which was too problematic to do while the doors were open to the public. Conservators found themselves with either not enough work (or out of work) or with too much. While many museum staff could work from home, maintenance people and conservators could not. Conservation cannot be practised virtually. The care of the buildings, the existing collections in exhibition halls and storage had to be monitored (Potts, 2020). The AAM post-pandemic assessment Reopenings fails to mention this. Just prior to the advent of the pandemic, our new younger US colleagues were requesting visibility, job security, equal pay, transparency and leadership. Their demand to have salaries posted on career notices was a triumph (Gupta et al., 2019). But then the insecure nature of employment during the pandemic added to the stress individuals were feeling in conjunction with concern about everyone’s health. What was happening at institutions across the country was outlined by textile conservator Ann Frisina, who explained the situation at the Minnesota Historical Society (MNHS): Understandably, management did not know what to do during Covid-19. Some staff were getting laid off, while others were not. Messages from leadership were not clear and this created a lack of transparency which was wearing on the staff. The lack of remuneration in the form of cost of living raises and merit raises had been nearly non-­ existent since 2008. Not surprisingly unionisation was discussed and eventually organized by many employees. The staff enlisted the help of the American Federation of State, County & Municipal Employees (AFSCME). This organisation facilitated the process. The major grievances were lack of transparency, unfair distribution of wages, favouritism, inexcusable firings, intimidating management style and low pay for entry professional employees. The vote for unionisation was won two to one, on February 2, 2022. Completion of their first union contract resulted in some new benefits; higher pay for all employees, cost of living and merit raises, and family medical leave. The institutional workers now have a voice that must be heard. And most importantly MNHS has an opportunity to coalesce into a stronger more productive workforce for the next 150 years.4 Unionization makes conservation a viable career. The fact that it is a career – not just a vocation – that requires fair compensation is illustrated by the case studies in this chapter. Conservators’ roles and responsibilities were already changing in 2010, as discussed in Kite’s case study. This development has continued as the case study by Flecker, Hackett

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and Haldane shows. Many conservators have found themselves in more managerial roles, focusing more on project planning, budgeting and facilitating internal and contract staff. Conservators have had to develop management skills in the project culture. Marko and Golbourn’s case study outlines the project management protocols that many ­conservators – not just textile specialists – employ in their daily work. For various reasons, more and more freelance conservators are setting up businesses. Whether it be from institutional downsizing, management challenges or overly large projects, the growth in the number of conservators, including textile conservators, working privately in the US and UK has been significant. This has encouraged a more business-like environment. Conservation training programmes do not have the time to offer business skills, but many professional conservation organizations around the world are doing so. It is a challenge in the post-pandemic era. Three textile conservators with for-profit businesses were asked to write for this edition. All declined, being too consumed by management and personnel issues to be able to contribute. These businesses were not spared the problems that other businesses shared globally post-pandemic. They too had difficulty recruiting and retaining staff, paying their staff and providing for staff education and training. It may be more manageable to be a ‘one-man band’; Sutcliffe’s case study documents his tale of starting a business.

Conservators’ image As we stated in 2010, any discussion of the character traits of the ‘typical’ conservator states that conservators prefer working with objects; they don’t look up from the bench. But the range of case studies in this book demonstrates the variety of roles textile conservators now occupy. These diverse roles make textile conservation a rewarding career. The relatively small proportion of textile conservation graduates who leave the profession demonstrates this. However, not many professionally trained conservators have gone on to management roles where they could influence policy. In the last 14 years, little has changed in the overall gender demographic. One welcome change is that more and more people of colour are entering our field. In 2015 Suzanne Davis, Curator and Head of Conservation at Kelsey Museum, questioned the labels we use to identify ourselves, i.e., textile conservator, objects conservator, book and paper conservator, etc. ‘Are these descriptors meaningful in ways that help us connect with each other, with our colleagues, and with the public we serve …? Our profession has evolved to a place where we need multidisciplinary problem-solving much more than we need to share technical information within disciplinary silos’ (Davis, 2015: 9). This is aptly illustrated by this text. Textile conservators are managers, problem solvers, collaborators, educators, presenters and advocates for the entire field. Rebecca Rushfield, Conservation Consultant in private practice, conducted a compelling study of retired conservators and those who left the field. This was given as a Life After Conservation Seminar workshop at the 2022 AIC annual meeting. The ageing of the baby-boom generation is providing a mass exodus from the greater conservation workforce. Although many continue to work beyond retirement age, she states, ‘for most conservators, their work is their identity … . a sense of purpose and a community of coworkers and friends’.5 When they finally do retire, what do conservators do, and what other fields do former conservators enter? The reasons conservators gave for leaving the field included physical challenges,

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Overview

frustration with management and the freedom to pursue new experiences. Now they can do art, volunteer in conservation on their own terms, write a book, participate in public programmes or continuing education, care for family or do nothing at all.

Conclusion In 2009–2010, as this book was first being prepared, the world was hit by a severe economic recession, which affected museum endowments and budgets. As the second edition was being prepared, the cultural sectors again faced huge changes. In 2020–2023 the world has experienced further economic disruptions. Once again, the cultural heritage sector found different solutions. Our institutions still exist. We would hope that in the next part of the twenty-first century, the role of the professional conservator will become even more important. Conservators have the knowledge, understanding, skills and judgement to find solutions; they are uniquely qualified to balance the demands of access and preservation, to prioritize collections management and to work with communities. But let us not forget, ‘I think sometimes we need permission to stop and adore; and a work of art grants us that’ (Bringley, 2023; Figure 1.0.3).

Figure 1.0.3 Harriet Tubman Quilt, made by the Negro History Club of Marin City and Sausalito, California, 1951, 120 × 96 inches, cotton appliqué, designed by Ben Irvin. Traditional quilting techniques are combined with modern design and materials to create a work of art celebrating Black heroes. © Robert W. Woodruff Library/Atlanta University Center.

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References AIC/FAIC (2023a). Sustainability tools in cultural heritage. Available from: https://stich.­ culturalheritage.org AIC/FAIC (2023b). National heritage responders. Available from: https://www.culturalheritage.org/ resources/emergencies/national-heritage-responders American Alliance of Museums (2023). Reopenings: what museums learned leading through crisis. Available from: https://www.aam-us.org/reopenings Art & Object (2019). Inside the V&A’s most visited exhibition: Christian Dior: Designer of Dreams. Available from: https://www.artandobject.com/press-release/inside-vas-most-visited-exhibitionchristian-dior-designer-dreams#:~:text=LONDON%20%2D%20Christian%20Dior%3A%20 ­Designer%20of, V%26A%27s%20most%20visited%20exhibition BBC One (2023). The repair shop. Available from: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b08l581p BBC Two (2023). Secrets of the museum. Available from: https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000f1xt Bravo TV (2023). Project runway. Available from: https://www.bravotv.com/project-runway Bringley, P. (2023). All the beauty in the world: The Metropolitan Museum and me. New York: Simon Schuster. Davis, S. (2015). Who is a conservator; what is conservation; evolving identities and practice to thrive in an inclusive world. AIC News, 40(2), 6–9. Gupta, A., O’Connor, A. & Munch, J. (2019). Empowering change through salary advocacy and negotiation. AIC/FAIC online community. Available from: https://community.culturalheritage.org/blogs/ jen-munch/2019/10/29/empowering-change-though-salary-advocacy-and-negotion Hess, L. (2023). In Amsterdam a ‘once-in-a-life-time’ Vermeer Exhibition celebrates the artist’s enduring mystery. Available from: https://www.vogue.com/article/vermeer-exhibition-rijksmuseumamsterdam ICOM (2022). Statement: museums and climate activism. Available from: https://icom.museum/en/ news/icom-statement-climate-activism/  Icon (2023). Sustainability network. Available from: https://www.icon.org.uk/groups-and-networks/ sustainability-network.html ICCROM (2023). Results are in: ICCROM-FAR’s app for damage and risk assessment in Ukraine. Available from: https://www.iccrom.org/news/results-are-iccrom-far%E2%80%99s-app-damageand-risk-assessment-ukraine Libor, J. (2020). Minneapolis police, protesters clash almost 24 hours after George Floyd’s death in custody. Star Tribune, 27 May. Available from: https://www.startribune.com/minneapolis-policeprotesters-clash-almost-24-hours-after-george-floyd-s-death-in-custody/570763352/ Lindner, E. (2023). Floods, fire and humidity: how climate change affects book preservation. The New York Times, 7 January. Available from: https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/07/books/climatechange-book-preservation.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare London Assembly (2021). Impact of Brexit on museums. Available from: https://www.london.gov.uk/ who-we-are/what-london-assembly-does/questions-mayor/find-an-answer/impact-brexit-museums Potts, T. (2020). The J. Paul Getty Museum during the coronavirus crisis. Museum Management and Curatorship, 35(3), 217–220. Roche, K. (2022). Billion dollar disasters: rain, rain go away! AIC/FAIC online community. Available from: https://community.culturalheritage.org/blogs/kimberly-roche/2022/03/17/billion-dollardisasters-rain-rain-go-away Rumsey, K. & van Enckevort, J. (2022–23). Nothing about us without us. Iconnect Magazine, 2022– 23(1), 28–31. Teeter, K. & Camp, A. (2021). Retrospective of the great recession survey report. AIC/FAIC online community. Available from: https://community.culturalheritage.org/blogs/keara-teeter/2021/06/21/ ecpn-great-recession-report The Economist (2016). Explaining the Brexit vote. 14 July. Available from: https://www.economist. com/britain/2016/07/14/explaining-th-brexit-vote. The Metropolitan Museum of Art (2023a). Heavenly bodies: fashion and the Catholic ­imagination, 2018. Available from: https://www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2018/heavenly-bodies

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The Metropolitan Museum of Art (2023b). Interwoven globe, 2013–2014. Available from: https:// www.metmuseum.org/exhibitions/listings/2013/interwoven-globe Yanchyshyn, Y. (2022). Ukrainian culture at risk, again. A conservator’s perspective. AIC/FAIC online community. Available from: https://community.culturalheritage.org/discussion/ukrainian-cultureat-risk-again-a-conservators-perspective

Notes 1 Georgefloydglobalmemorial.org 2 https://blackartconservators.com 3 https://permissiblebeauty.le.ac.uk/ 4 Personal communication, May 2023. 5 Rushfield, R. (2022). Life after Conservation seminar. Workshop AIC annual meeting, Wednesday 18 May 2022. Unpublished.

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1.1 INSTITUTIONAL DEVELOPMENTS AND THEIR EFFECT ON CONSERVATION POLICIES* The Cambusnethan Bog Burial Coat Helen M. Hughes The role of a textile conservator in a large institution such as Glasgow Museums is not always straightforward and can change over time. Changes in the internal structure of the institution, in its focus and in conservation policy can all impact on the role of a textile conservator. This is ­illustrated by a case study looking at the policies affecting the treatment of a coat discovered with a bog body in Greenhead Moss near Old Cambusnethan Church.

Glasgow Museums A common perception of museums is that they are unchanging or slow to change. For UK local authority museums, the reality can be quite different, with changes of local council and national government, as well as societal views, having a direct effect on their running. Over the last few decades Glasgow’s city museums have undergone a considerable number of changes. This has ­affected the approaches taken to the care of objects within the museums’ collections. The 1990s and early 2000s saw major institutional and local government changes that affected Glasgow Museums. In 1993 the conservation section was created; previously conservators had been part of curatorial departments. In 1997 local government in Scotland changed from a twotier to a single-tier structure in preparation for devolution and the establishment of the Scottish Parliament in 1999. Glasgow City Council, which took over the running of the city, started with a deficit and had to impose severe budget cutbacks on all departments. This resulted in restructuring that reduced staffing levels and the museums being combined with libraries and sports to form one large department, Culture and Leisure Services (CLS). In 2003, after a Best Value Review (a formal review of how a service is run, how effective and efficient it is and how it can be improved), the staff levels in the museums were increased. In 2007 CLS became Glasgow Life, a charity delivering culture, sport and learning activities on behalf of Glasgow City Council, with Glasgow Museums as an integral part. Glasgow Museums is a complex organization covering several museums, historic houses and storage facilities, some run in conjunction with other partner organizations. It is responsible for over one million objects, with wide-ranging collections in a changing number of buildings. There is a dynamic balance between the centralized and the devolved needs of the organization. The museums are very important to the DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-312

Effect of institutional developments on conservation

people of Glasgow, highly visited, often in the news, and great interest is taken in how the collections are cared for. The author has been directly affected by these changes; she began work in 1990 in the Decorative Arts Department, working on the costume collection based in Camphill House; the collection and associated staff were moved to the Burrell Collection in 1992. The author was based there with the two Burrell Collection textile conservators, but she reported to a different department. In 1993 she became a textile conservator in the newly created Conservation Section. The number of textile posts was reduced to two with an increased remit to cover all textiles in Glasgow Museums. At that point the conservation section was charged with making the collections safely accessible. In the 1997 restructure the number of conservators in the department was reduced to five, with only one of them devoted to textiles, and the curators of Scottish History and Costume and Textiles left. The public concern for the city’s museums made the job losses very controversial. With fewer conservators, the emphasis of the conservation section was then on preventive conservation, caring for collections rather than for individual objects. In 2003 the conservation section greatly increased in size, new curatorial posts were created for the departments of Scottish History and Costume and Textiles, and the use of the digital collections management system began to be established. The focus of all sections was now on visitors and their experiences with the objects and collections. Since 2003 Glasgow Museums has been involved in major capital projects including the redevelopment of Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum (O’Neill, 2010), the creation of Riverside Museum (Glasgow’s new museum of transport and travel) and the refurbishment and redisplay of the Burrell Collection. Through these projects, the focus on visitors has been developed and broadened to include previously excluded groups from deprived areas or different cultures (Culture & Sport Glasgow, 2010). For conservators, this has meant not just considering the physical aspects of an object or textile but also the more intangible cultural and human aspects, with conservators being integral to projects such as Banner Tales, where banners were taken out of the museum into the community (Featherstone et al., 2021), or the repatriation of objects.

Case study: the Cambusnethan Bog Burial Coat The author has been involved with the Cambusnethan Bog Burial Coat on several occasions since 1991. Although she has not carried out conservation treatment on it herself, she has been involved in supervising treatment, providing access to the coat, providing information about it, and discussing and developing ideas for its future role. This case study demonstrates how institutional policies and practices impact upon conservation interventions and raises other concerns such as the treatment of human remains in museums. In March 1932, Gerard Rolink, a peat digger in Greenhead Moss near Old Cambusnethan Church, found the body of a man in a shallow grave underneath pieces of birch wood. The body and the clothing were taken to the local police station. At that time, it was assumed that the man had died a violent death and that from his clothing he had been a Covenanter. The National ­Covenant was signed in 1638 following Charles I’s attempt to introduce an Anglican prayer book; over the next 40, often very brutal, years the Covenanters fought for a Presbyterian Church in Scotland. There is still a very strong emotional resonance in Scotland for anything to do with the Covenanters. Before the body and clothing came to Glasgow Museums in 1955, an account of the finding of the body and the analysis of the clothing and body was written by amateur archaeologist and collector Ludovic MacLellan Mann, and published in the Transactions of the Glasgow Historical 13

Helen M. Hughes

Society in 1937. He also included reports by Professor John Graham on the body, Robert G. ­Eskdale on the cloths and dyes and William Martin on the shoes. The descriptions and analyses are well observed but presupposed that the man was a Covenanter, and the clothing was drawn as a man’s seventeenth-century costume. Subsequently, Helen Bennett, then in charge of costume and textiles at the National Museum of Antiquities in Edinburgh, dated the clothing as being from 1790 to 1810, establishing that the man could not have been a Covenanter. This later date has since been supported by other costume historians. In 1991 the author first became involved with the coat when it was requested for a display of men’s coats in a new Scottish Gallery in Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, Glasgow’s most visited museum. At that time the coat and body were the responsibility of the History Department. The Scottish Gallery project was part of a move towards cross-disciplinary displays and presaged the 1993 restructure, but while the displays were cross-disciplinary, the staff structure meant that it was not possible for the textile conservator to treat the coat, as she was in the Decorative Arts department. Instead, it was arranged for her to supervise the work of Liddell, a conservation technician from the History Department. The coat, the rest of the clothing and the human remains were brought to the textile conservation studio in Camphill House in order for the coat to be treated for display. Three overarching excavation numbers had been assigned to the assemblage and there was no listing of the individual components, so keeping them together lessened the risk of dissociation. While the remains are referred to as a ‘bog body’, all that has survived of the body are some of the bones and part of the skull with hair still attached to it. As the treatment went on, the knowledge of the presence of ­human remains in the workroom had an increasing emotional impact, and care was taken to reduce any movement or interaction with the human remains. The clothing that came to Camphill House included the coat which had been reconstructed, i.e., the separate pieces had been sewn back together; the breeches, which were also partially restitched; and parts of the shoes, buttons and several pieces of woollen fabric. The records did not include any list of what had come to Glasgow Museums nor any information to indicate when the restitching of the coat had been carried out or who had done it. Mercerized cotton was used to restitch the coat, matching up and using the original stitch holes. It seems that only proteinaceous material has survived, making it likely that the original threads were linen or cotton. The restitched shape is distorted so that the coat does not sit squarely on a mannequin. This distortion is consistent with the parts of the coat being put together, rather than taking patterns from them to make up a toile and using that to adjust their positions. The coat is exciting, as it is not the kind of garment that typically survives from the eighteenth century (Figure 1.1.1). Normally it is the expensive silk garments of the nobility that survive rather than more everyday wear. This slender, full-skirted coat is made of a robust, green, twill-weave wool. The skirting is pleated at the back, and the coat would have fastened at the front with buttons. It has a turned-over collar but no lapels. There are nine buttonholes on the proper left front edge and matching indications of buttons on the right. The main part of the coat is lined with a twill-weave, blue wool and the sleeves with a plain-weave, brown wool. The coat has several patches of twill and plain-weave, blue wool fabrics; these patches had been put on before burial and are contemporary with the use or wear of the coat. It has a heavy oily feel, but the cause is not known. No buttons are currently attached to the coat, but there are two detached fabric-covered buttons; one has a note that it was at the top of the pleating at the back; the fabric is the same as the outer layer of the coat. The button itself is very lightweight, and it is not clear if the core remains. Over 20 metal parts of button were found near different parts of the coat and breeches. From their

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surface appearance, these appear to be the inner parts of fabric-covered, possibly linen or cottoncovered, buttons. As part of the 1991 treatment, Liddell wrote as full a description of the coat and treatment as possible, but photographs could not be taken because of the staff structure at that time. The brief for the treatment was to prepare the coat for display. As there was limited time, the previous reconstruction was left intact. Where stitching had failed this was redone, and dyed nylon net was used to cover and support weak areas. The reduction of the creases was the most problematic part of the treatment; this was attempted by creating a tent inside which the coat could be humidified. There were two major concerns with the crease reduction. Firstly, it was not known what had caused the creases or what their relevance was; nor secondly, what if any health risks there were in humidifying the coat. In the event, the humidification had little if any effect on the creases, and no mould developed. The final aspect of the treatment was to create a mannequin for the coat. This was made of chicken wire on a wooden frame, padded with polyester wadding and covered in a cotton display fabric. Once the coat was mounted on the mannequin, it could be seen that the previous reconstruction was not entirely accurate, and the mannequin had to be made to account for the distortions in the shape of the coat. The coat’s slender shape appeared odd to a 1990s audience, so the mannequin was not made slim enough for the coat to fasten, but for it to be left open at the front (Figure 1.1.1).

Figure 1.1.1 1991 images: left, front of the coat; right, the back, showing three-quarter view as it was displayed with the front open and the coat skirts slightly flared at the back. The mount was designed to support the coat and to give the impression of movement. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection.

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The coat was on display in Kelvingrove until the decant for the major 2006 redisplay of the museum. In the period 1997–2003 curatorial responsibility for the Cambusnethan coat passed to the Archaeology curator, Dr Colleen Batey. At that time interest was in much earlier, prehistoric and Viking eras, and the Cambusnethan bog body and clothing were seen as an anomaly in the archaeology collection. This, combined with the lack of a costume and textile curator, meant that the author was involved in viewing sessions for the coat. This included removing it from display for David Wilcox, a costume historian, who was conducting his own research into eighteenth-century men’s clothing. Wilcox took a pattern of the coat and breeches. One result of this was to show how the sleeves had been wrongly positioned, explaining the distortion in the shape. Copies of the patterns were put into the museum records. Following a repatriation request in the 1990s, the coat was photographed, using black and white print and colour slide photography, on its display mount. At this time the museum’s costume was not routinely photographed, and the request provided an opportunity for the photography. From 2003 until 2019 the coat was stored with other eighteenth-century coats, while the rest of the remains and clothing were taken to the newly built Glasgow Museums Resource Centre. Since 2019 until 2022 the remains and clothing, including the coat, have been kept with other culturally sensitive material. At the time of writing the clothing and remains have been separated, with the clothing stored in the textile conservation studio. All the remains and clothing have now received individual numbers, and the clothing is due to be individually documented, photographed, and new individual storage created for the separate pieces. The author is now directly involved in the process. The move from a paper-based records system to a digital collections management system both allows and necessitates the identification of individual parts. The process has already shown that it is not clear if all the pieces shown and described in Mann’s article before they came to ­Glasgow Museums in 1955 have transferred to the collection. As the collections management system underpins the public-facing digital information on Glasgow Museums’ collections, recording and researching the objects for the system is important. There has been the opportunity to take new digital photographs of the coat on a smaller mannequin that gives a clearer indication of the size and physique of the man who wore it (Figure 1.1.2). In both the Kelvingrove and Riverside projects, costume played a significant role and Glasgow ­Museums has access to a greater range of mannequins, including one that is better suited to the coat’s size and shape, allowing it to be seen as though fastened.

Human remains Through this period, the care of human remains has also been revisited. In the early 1990s, following work by the UK Museum Ethnographers Group in producing guidelines on the management of human remains, Glasgow Museums set up an internal working group to look at the human remains in the collections and how they were cared for. The Cambusnethan body and clothing were not untypical of the remains considered, in that there was interest and emotional concern from a variety of groups in the care of the remains. After the 2003 restructure, the composition and focus of the group changed and efforts, including repatriation and creating appropriate storage, were concentrated on non-European remains. With established procedures now in place, particular issues relating to European and Scottish remains such as the body and clothing found in Cambusnethan are being looked at, with the records being changed from an archaeological assemblage to individual records for each piece.

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Effect of institutional developments on conservation

Figure 1.1.2 2022 digital photograph showing a three-quarter view of the coat taken on a small mannequin. The coat is not mounted for display but so that the viewer can see the slim stature of the man who would have worn the coat. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection.

Repatriation request There is community interest in the remains as demonstrated by repatriation requests. In the 1990s a request was made by the Wishaw Community Council for part of the remains to be buried in a cairn being built to commemorate the seventeenth-century Covenanting tradition. Objects in Scottish museums can be repatriated; Glasgow Museums has done this in the past and had an established procedure for dealing with each claim on a case-by-case basis (Maddra, 1996). Requests are considered by Glasgow City Council and judged against five criteria: the status of those making the request (i.e., their right to represent the community from which the person originally came); the continuity between the community from which the person came, and the current community on whose behalf the request is being made; the cultural and religious importance of the person’s remains to the community; how the remains have been acquired by the museum; and their subsequent and future use if the remains are returned. The request was turned down on the grounds of the revised dating of the costume. A further request for all the remains to be returned to be given a Christian burial was also turned down. One of the factors in the decision was that, although the man was almost certainly a Christian, it is not known of what denomination and what would be an appropriate way for him to be treated. The repatriation requests clearly show community interest and the importance of learning more about the man and his clothing.

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Discussion The author’s role as a textile conservator in the care and interpretation of the Cambusnethan coat has taken place over several decades and has not always been straightforward. She has been involved as much with people as with the coat. This has been a product of both the different staff structures in Glasgow Museums, and the changes in attitude within society over time. The 1990s Scottish Gallery display promoted the advantages of cross-disciplinary work, opening up collections to different interpretations and allowing connections to be made by visitors. The difficulty for a conservator was that the treatment brief for the proposed initial display of the coat was not clearly defined. There was no information on why the coat was being displayed, whether as an eighteenth-century coat, as a unique garment, or as a plain coat in comparison to the two tartan coats that were displayed with it, or as a ‘social history’ garment. By contrast, for the 2006 redisplay of Kelvingrove, the development of treatment proposals was informed by an understanding of why a particular textile had been selected. The 1993 staff restructure meant that the collections became the responsibility of the whole museum service. With the creation of the conservation section, it became possible for conservators to be much more proactive and to work with curators, project leaders, designers and the public in establishing a treatment brief. This meant that the author needed to be able to communicate what was possible and also to listen to the needs and desires of the other people involved. After the 1997 restructure, a preventive approach was taken to conservation in Glasgow Museums; this meant concentrating on the physical care of the collections as a whole rather than focusing on individual objects such as the coat. With the refurbishment of Kelvingrove, there was another change in the philosophy of Glasgow Museums, to a visitor-centred approach for displays. This has had an impact on how objects are treated; how the treatment affects objects’ interpretation is now becoming an important part of the brief. Conservation itself has also changed, as preventive conservation has become embedded in Glasgow Museums as a way of caring for collections, alongside a growing appreciation that treatments cannot just care for the stability of an object but also have to aid access and interpretation. Increasingly, engagement can be enhanced by accessing digital records, and conservators can provide information not just on treatments but also about the nature of the objects. The author would now argue strongly for future treatments of the Cambusnethan coat and the other Cambusnethan textiles to have a much longer time scale and for the coat not to be treated in isolation. The author had previously argued for the original restoration to be revisited and the positioning of the sleeves to be changed so that the nature of the coat can be seen more clearly. But she does not now see this as a priority; instead, it is more important to use the clothing to learn about the man who wore them. It had been hoped that it would be possible to involve more people in the care, treatment, research and understanding of the remains of the man. While this has not been possible due to the major projects Glasgow Museums has undertaken, the visitor-centred work on those projects is helping inform a collaborative approach. Renewed interest in the man and his clothing is providing an opportunity for the author and others to re-examine the textiles, look for different methods of analysis and ask different questions, and involve other people in the care, treatment, research and understanding of the remains of the man who was found in Greenhead Moss in 1932.

Acknowledgements Jane Rowlands, Senior Manager (Collections and Programming), Glasgow Museums; Martin ­Bellamy, Major Projects and Research Manager, Glasgow Museums; Susan Pacitti, Publishing, Commissioning and Licensing Manager, Glasgow Museums; Katinka Dalgleish, Curator, Archaeology, Glasgow Museums. 18

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References Culture & Sport Glasgow (Glasgow Museums) (2010). Out there. The Open Museum: pushing the boundaries of museums’ potential. Glasgow: Culture and Sport Glasgow. Featherstone, D., Hayes, F., Hughes, H.M. & McDonald, I. (Eds) (2021). Diverse voices, challenging injustice. Banner Tales from Glasgow. Glasgow: Scottish Labour History Society. Maddra, S. (1996). The Wounded Knee Ghost Dance shirt. Journal of Museum Ethnography, 8(May), 41–58. Mann, L.M., Graham, J., Eskdale, R.G. & Martin, W. (1937). Notes on the discovery of a body in a peat moss at Cambusnethan. Transactions of the Glasgow Historical Society, 9(1). Available from: https://www.jstor. org/stable/24680631 O’Neill, M. (2010). Kelvingrove: telling stories in a treasured old/new museum. Curator, The Museum ­Journal, 50(4), 379–399.

Note * Published in 2010, revised in 2024.

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1.2 FIGURES IN MUSEUM DISPLAY* The creation and use of a little person mannequin at National Museums Scotland Miriam McLeod, Georgina Ripley

Introduction Reflection of diversity in society is essential in the museum setting. If, as an audience, we can ‘see ourselves’, we are likely to find our visiting experiences authentic, enjoyable and more personally rewarding. Conversely, the absence of representation means that many audiences will never have seen themselves in the museums they have visited. This not only reinforces negative attitudes for the visitor, through absence, but marginalization in an institutional context. In 2019, National Museums Scotland (NMS) presented the temporary exhibition Body Beautiful: Diversity on the Catwalk, curated by Georgina Ripley, Principal Curator of Modern and Contemporary Design at NMS (Figure 1.2.1). Miriam McLeod, Textile Conservator at NMS, led the conservation for the exhibition, which involved evaluating and fitting the costumes for display, procuring the figures required and ensuring that individual support requirements were met appropriately. The exhibition addressed broad issues of diversity and inclusivity in the fashion industry, organized around five categories: ‘Age’, ‘Disability’, ‘LGBTQIA+,’ ‘Race’ and ‘Size’. The project plan allowed for ten months conservation time and included a standard exhibition budget to acquire 25 figures for display which reflected the exhibition interpretation. Integral to the mannequin brief was challenging perceptions of the body in relation to existing mannequin shapes to achieve displays that would respectfully represent disabled, gender-fluid and differently proportioned ­bodies, and be empowering to those audiences – all within the limited time and budget. A fundamental consideration for conservators displaying costume is, who are the figures intended to portray? The representative quality of full-figure mannequins here deliberately set out to validate audiences who have been excluded in the museum setting and in wider society. To see ourselves – or to borrow a phrase from activist circles, ‘if you can see it, you can be it’ – it is appropriate to use mannequins to consciously raise awareness of diversity from inside our public institutions. However, the availability of figures which represent disability, gender and size differences can present practical procurement issues. In the context of this exhibition, bespoke solutions for some of the objects proved to be the best approach, particularly in the case of two loans from Irish writer and disability activist Sinéad Burke. The result is testament to the importance of working collaboratively, as we sought to achieve secure object mounts that upheld the integrity DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-420

Figures in museum display: a little person mannequin

Figure 1.2.1   Body Beautiful: Diversity on the Catwalk exhibition at National Museums Scotland. © National Museums Scotland.

of the exhibition message and which could inspire new models for inclusivity in conservation practice.

The exhibition background In the years prior to the Body Beautiful exhibition, there had been a prevailing sense of a concerted movement towards greater diversity in the fashion industry, spearheaded by a new generation of creatives who were calling into question existing boundaries in culture and identity (Ahmed, 2017). Advances in social media had altered the conventional power structures of visual media, providing a platform for individuals to advocate for inclusivity. Catwalk casting was beginning to reflect these new attitudes more consistently, as addressed in theFashionSpot's biannual diversity reports analysing the ethnic backgrounds, body types and ages of all model appearances across the New York, London, Milan and Paris shows. The Autumn/Winter 2017 catwalks marked a ­particular turning point: following analysis of 7,035 model castings across 241 shows, theFashionSpot's declared it ‘a banner season for runway diversity’ and significantly, the most racially diverse season in years with 27.9% of model castings comprising women of colour (theFashionSpot's, 2017).1 Change became evident with the appointment of Edward Enninful OBE as the first male and the first Black Editor-in-Chief at British Vogue in 2017, bringing an outspoken advocate for diversity in fashion to the helm of one of the industry’s most influential publications. 21

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At the time, NMS was involved with Edinburgh College of Art’s (ECA) Diversity Network, formed in collaboration with All Walks Beyond the Catwalk, an initiative launched in 2009 by Debra Bourne MBE, Caryn Franklin MBE and Erin O’Connor MBE to challenge the fashion industry’s dependence on unhealthy body ideals (Franklin, n.d.). The ethos of ‘emotionally considerate’ design underpins the ECA fashion curriculum and encourages students to challenge existing beauty standards. Working with Diversity Network collaborators and ECA students was a key inspiration for exploring these topics in an exhibition format and for taking a participatory approach, which we hoped would enable the museum to engage with new audiences by inviting fashion into a more meaningful dialogue with contemporary life. The dual ambitions for Body Beautiful were to present design as a creative medium that can address vital questions with respect to being-in-the-world (Geczy & Karaminas, 2017) and to provide a platform to those historically marginalized in the industry. By bringing together different voices, the exhibition intended to demonstrate how the industry must become more diverse behind the scenes for its creative output to become inclusive. It was therefore imperative that the exhibition amplified those voices without imposing an assumed ‘authoritative’ museum voice onto the interpretation. Collaboration with invested people within the fashion industry was integral to the project and, equally, fed into the decision-making for the mannequins, which necessitated careful consideration of both the visual appearance of the figures and their display context.

Costume-mounting considerations There are two general considerations that occur before a costume is mounted. The first concerns the choice of figure type, and includes consideration of the budget, time available, the period and style of costume being displayed, and the context in which the display mount is being used. The second concerns the structural stability of the garment on display. Calico-covered bustforms2 can be a good option for many different sizes and styles of costume, since they are relatively inexpensive, can usually be produced in six to eight weeks and come in a variety of sizes and shapes. They can be altered by padding where needed with commonly available materials such as polyester wadding and/or underpinnings attached directly or dressed on to the figure. However, since bustforms are not full-body figures, there are drawbacks if a primary display intention (alongside showing the costume authentically) is to promote diversity, as they were designed as functional tools for tailoring and dressmaking and have limited options for adaptation beyond re-covering.3 Bespoke, museum-grade, full-figure fibreglass mannequins are another excellent option, but they may fall outside the remit of temporary exhibitions due to their higher cost and the time required to develop a style. Conversely, retail fibreglass display figures have a moderate cost and ordering time often comparable with that for bustforms. They can be ordered from an existing catalogue of styles, with some basic alterations if required, and sprayed to complement the exhibition design.4 Shop displays usually use full-figure fibreglass mannequins, which are typically in the range of 6 feet to 6 feet, 2 inches tall compared to the actual UK average height for women, which in 2023 was 5 feet, 3 inches. Figures are designed with what the industry refers to as ‘straight-size’ proportions, with standard female body measurements usually equivalent to a UK 8–10, though the average UK dress size in 2023 reportedly remains around a 16. Mannequins also do not usually encompass physical difference of any kind. Oddy tests on fibreglass mannequin samples normally pass for display use for up to five years,5 and as matter of economy and sustainability, figures can be sanded down and re-sprayed for re-use within that time.

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The objects in Body Beautiful came from a variety of contemporary sources and encompassed clothing from the 1980s, such as three outfits from BodyMap which appeared in the ‘Age’ and ‘Size’ sections, to pieces from the present day, including from Max Mara and ­Ashish in ‘Race’ and Charles Jeffrey LOVERBOY in ‘LGBTQIA+’. To align with the parameters set by the exhibition narrative, all the selected ensembles had appeared on the catwalk and were, for the most part, industry loans. The majority came in sample womenswear sizes, ­approximately a UK 8–10, with an equivalent slender fit for menswear or gender-fluid looks. The exception was naturally in the ‘Size’ section, which sought to explore relative industry progress towards a more intersectional, body-positive and size-inclusive vision of fashion, and which included garments in a UK womenswear size 16–18 (with a notable lack of menswear representation on the catwalk). The choice of mannequins available in sizes over a UK 14 were limited at the time of the Body Beautiful mannequin development, reflecting the lack of demand from both the retail and heritage sectors to display plus-size garments – an area of the market which has gratifyingly continued to evolve. Whilst the choice of quality commercial figures to fit a size UK 18 was limited, we identified four figures with no need for development in terms of the garment fit. The practical consequence of mannequin companies working with the proportions of very tall ‘straight-size’ models means that catwalk sample sizes normally fit fibreglass figures quite well and often there is no need for garment support beyond a barrier layer. However, although contemporary and modern retail garments are frequently assumed to go straight onto retail figures with no fitting issues, the proportions between the garment and mannequin can be quite different. The measurement ratios of garments, particularly those that were made during or before the 1990s, often do not match those of the figure. Older pieces from the 1970s and 1980s may also have smaller armhole measurements. These differences can sometimes cause significant stress on objects at the shoulder, underarm, bust and neck, distorting necklines and overall profiles and raising the risk to the object from stretching. In addition, waistlines and hems can end up being noticeably higher on the figure so that the overall garment length is markedly above what was intended. These types of fit issues may be able to be concealed or become glaringly obvious, depending on the cut and construction of the garment. However, there is always some tension with presenting objects on figures which are idealized versions of the body, while bearing in mind the importance and desirability of authentic representation of wear. With disability representation an area in which the business of fashion and the mannequin sector have furthest to go in terms of inclusion, we wanted to ensure that our mannequin choices were genuinely and respectfully representative of disabled bodies as a matter of priority. The second underlying consideration for costume mounting concerns the structural stability of the garment whilst on display, and this can normally be supplied with custom-made supports of various types (Flecker, 2012). Costume supports can include using historically accurate or functionally made underpinnings, additional unseen weight-bearing or stabilizing supports such as magnets and webbing tapes, and/or solid structural supports for clothing that is particularly large, heavy, or has uneven proportions. When they are sympathetic and appropriate, display supports enhance understanding of clothing but, due to the individual nature of objects, almost always need to be custom made. Contemporary clothing often has fewer support needs than historical and may only require light padding between the figure and clothing to improve and enhance fit, and undergarments to help clothing maintain the correct profile and form a barrier layer. Exceptions abound, however, and there is ample scope for modern garments to need just as much support on display as historical clothing, depending on the outfit.

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Miriam McLeod, Georgina Ripley

Collaboration NMS assembled an advisory panel reflective of activist voices from across the queer and disabled communities and from the Black British diaspora, as well as those who have pioneered change in this arena. The panel of eight included Caryn Franklin and Debra Bourne; Mal Burkinshaw, founder of ECA’s Diversity Network; Scottish-Nigerian model, author and entrepreneur Eunice Olumide MBE; British fashion model Kelly Knox, previously voted one of the most influential disabled people in the UK; American photographer Amos Mac; award-winning writer, public speaker and model, Jamie Windust; and Sinéad Burke (Figure 1.2.2). Several industry creatives and fashion students contributed to loans and interpretation; photojournalist and fashion photographer Chris Moore provided catwalk imagery; and contributors were invited to share their personal stories on the object labels. Sinéad Burke is a little person – 3 feet, 5 inches tall. Born with achondroplasia, the most common form of dwarfism, Sinéad delivered a powerful TED Talk in 2017 entitled Why Design Should ­Include Everyone (Burke, 2017). It has been viewed over 1.5 million times, and Sinéad has become a highly visible advocate for inclusion. Her ongoing and influential work with the fashion industry has brought her image to an ever-increasing audience, as the publicity around her activism has included broadcast and print interviews, online lectures and talks, and fashion shoots and cover stories. In each of these images, Sinéad is wearing clothing especially designed and made for her by some of the most eminent designers in the western industry. Sinéad generously loaned two ensembles for the exhibition. The first, a straight-sized, classic beige Mac by British brand Burberry®, had been used for a cover shoot and accompanying feature in Business of Fashion, accessorized with a pair of white leather ‘Stan Smith’ trainers by adidas®. Having watched Sinéad’s TED Talk, the photographer, Tim Walker, wanted to use the symbols of alteration and customization in a creative, explicitly beautiful way. Enacting a bespoke alteration in real time, he took a pair of tailor’s shears to the coat which Sinéad was wearing, cutting the hem from its original length to a raw, jagged edge, ending at Sinéad’s thigh. The coat sleeves were cut to Sinéad’s upper arm, and the cuff of one, with its distinctive Burberry® detailing intact, was – at Sinéad’s own suggestion – inverted and worn as a crown. As a finishing touch, she was handed the tailor’s shears to create the final image. It was a perfect illustration of the conflict of being a person who should be included in the fashion industry but who faces considerable barriers in doing so. The power of the image was such that NMS sought permission to use it for the poster and publicity around the Body Beautiful exhibition. The second object was a pale green floral silk dress, embellished with Swarovski® crystals and accessorized with a bright yellow handbag. Modelled on a look from Christopher Kane’s Spring/ Summer 2018 runway presentation, the designer worked to draft new patterns that did not simply size down but were cut specifically for Sinéad’s body shape. Kane reconsidered the design proportions to accommodate the natural curvature in her spine brought about by her achondroplasia and moved the dress fastenings from the centre back to a concealed side zip and centre front pop stud fastening to give her autonomy in getting the dress on and off.

Sourcing a new solution Research was required to discover what mannequins were available within the museum and retail sectors and identify the best examples of disability representation in recent use. It revealed that in 2018 at least, there were extremely limited commercial options for buying moulded fibreglass mannequins that represented disabled bodies as either a specialist or standard retail option. Two bespoke examples stood out, where companies in different continents had ‘live’ cast disabled people and used their fibreglass figures in shop window displays. The people involved had physical disabilities that included limb loss, brittle bone disease and dwarfism. Hans Boodt, a mannequin retailer based 24

Figures in museum display: a little person mannequin

Figure 1.2.2 Sinéad Burke on the publicity poster for Body Beautiful in a customized Burberry® Mac. © Tim Walker Studio.

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in the Netherlands, had collaborated with Pro Infirmis, Switzerland’s largest non-profit organization advocating self-determination and inclusion of disabled people. The project included a short film which has received 25 million views and is still available on YouTube (Pro Infirmis, n.d.). The other project took place at JC Penney in Manhattan, New York in 2014. Whilst the search proved that good disability representation in the field is not common, these examples were inspiring and helped identify that the best solution to mounting Sinead’s outfits was likely to be bespoke.

Production The mannequin supplier for the project was Proportion London, a British-based manufacturer of figures for the UK retail sector.6 Gaetano Miraldi, Head Sculptor, advised on the feasibility of adapting an existing figure style by cutting a female mannequin at strategic points from the torso, arms and legs to remove segments of fibreglass and reduce the overall height. It was clear to him that the resulting figure could not accurately represent Sinéad or other people with achondroplasia due to differences in body proportion.7 Sinéad had shown great willingness for direct involvement with the mannequin manufacturers, and discussion between Sinead and Gaetano led to the suggestion of live casting her to make a mould from which to manufacture her fibreglass figure. Sinéad was cast in three sessions, starting with her lower torso, legs and feet, followed by her upper torso and arms, and finally her hands. The professionalism and friendliness of Gaetano and his colleagues ensured that Sinéad was as comfortable as possible throughout long casting sessions (nine, five and two hours respectively), while she herself made the best of the situation with her characteristic good humour and easy determination. It was undoubtedly an incredibly challenging physical process, but Sinéad reflected: The casting process with Proportion London has been probably the most rewarding and challenging experience of my life to date. It is extraordinary and inspiring to see my physicality represented in a cultural institution for the first time. In advocacy circles there’s a phrase ‘If you can see it, you can be it’. As somebody who frequently visits museums and art galleries around the world, I’ve always wanted to see a body like mine reflected on the walls – and that isn’t a prize just for me. You must ask the question – how many people will come through this exhibition and will envision a future for themselves based on representation alone? It has been very humbling and also quite frightening to make myself so publicly vulnerable (Interview by Georgina Ripley with Sinéad Burke, 2019). The preparation for casting begins with a barrier layer of petroleum jelly applied over old clothing. The first three layers are rubber, with a silicone thinner added to the first to enhance flow and ease removal of the form. Split lines are marked into the rubber down each side at the foundation stage so that the front and back can be precisely matched together for the later assembly of the cast into a complete mould. Once the first layer is dry, a second more viscose solution of rubber is applied, and plastic rivets are added at strategic points to create keyholes through all subsequent layers for matching up later. Plaster is applied over the rubber, and a fine layer of scrim-type mesh added between the first and second layers, helping the cast cohere during drying and improving its overall structural stability. As each layer needs to fully air-dry before moving onto the next, the sitter is obliged to stay in position until the process is complete and the cast removed. Conversely, the sculptors need to work very precisely and at speed to apply the setting materials accurately and without forming air bubbles, also ensuring that each layer is cured correctly (Figure 1.2.3). Once the main cast sections are removed and joined, any small imperfections in the new mould are sanded down to achieve a smooth finish. 26

Figures in museum display: a little person mannequin

Figure 1.2.3  Sinéad Burke with Gaetano Miraldi, Head Sculptor, during live casting. © Proportion London.

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The main cast materials are rubber and lime-based plaster, but hand casts are often made using an air-setting alginate8 since plaster carries a risk of accidental cracking or breakage at the more complex stress points of the knuckles and finger digits. Hand casting can be a speedier process but still requires the sitter to be immobile for 30–45 minutes whilst the alginate sets. The hand is held in the desired pose and the alginate smoothly poured over and around it, so as not to form air bubbles. Once the alginate has air-cured, the hand is gently removed from the mould without damaging the shape created. Following removal of the cast container, the hand mould is ready to use. Sinéad’s figure arrived within the week of the exhibition opening date. Her involvement with Body Beautiful had been integral, and the exhibition team learnt a great deal from her about her experiences as a fashion activist and woman with achondroplasia. We wanted to convey something of her personality and consequently individualized her mannequins by finishing the heads with a stylized version of Sinéad’s signature bob in a high-gloss paint. The figures were under-dressed simply to protect the garments, and the final accessorizing elements, including the Burberry® ‘crown’ and yellow Kane handbag, completed the two looks (Figure 1.2.4).

Evaluation The whole team gained a lot professionally and personally from the process of creating a mannequin with achondroplasia. We further discovered that live casting is not necessarily a guarantee of bespoke fit, and we experienced some issues around the armholes and upper arm.

Figure 1.2.4 Sinéad Burke with her new figure dressed in Christopher Kane custom archive floral dress. © Neil Hanna.

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One cause was that the upper cast had been taken with Sinéad wearing a non-wired crop top and t-shirt provided by Proportion London instead of her usual underwear, as any clothing would have to be disposed of afterwards. The fit factor was also influenced, as it always is, by the inflexibility of the display figures. Static poses can confer a degree of stress and harmful twist on close-fitting areas that may not occur in real life; the natural give and stretch of textile fibres work with our bodies in a way that they cannot with solid figures, and therefore a valuable lesson learnt was to be more predictive with how the rigidity of the form might affect the fit of the clothing. Overall, this was a successful solution that enabled display of Sinéad’s garments as authentically as possible and ensured consistency across the exhibition in general, respecting Sinéad’s one original request that her pieces be displayed in the same manner as all the others. Moreover, the process demonstrated a willingness on the part of the museum fashion exhibition to go the extra mile to affirm the lived experience of audiences historically marginalized from not just the fashion industry, but from the museum display. While notably this case study represented only one individual’s experience, it overwhelmingly elicited a more personal reaction from museum visitors, with many sharing their own experiences of ways in which they had been made to feel marginalized by fashion, or by society, and how the exhibition felt both empowering and uplifting. Although there were certainly areas of the exhibition to improve upon, visitor feedback was positive and constructive, and we successfully achieved the objective to open a friendly dialogue about, and bring awareness to, issues of diversity, equity and inclusivity in fashion. The subsequent tour across five venues in Europe and the UK also provided a unique opportunity to learn from and to engage with wider audiences.

Conclusion According to the World Health Organization (2023), 15% of people have a disability, forming the world’s largest minority community. Despite some progress, fashion discourse is still characterized by the interchange between inclusion and exclusion (Ling et al., 2019), and this is reflected in everyday museum display and the limitations of mannequin figures. Yet the politicization of fashion – and by association of the fashion mannequin – illustrates it is a relevant medium for expressing desires and beliefs circulating in society today. Body Beautiful provided a unique opportunity for conservators to collaborate with external contributors to accomplish the successful creation of a little person mannequin. The project stands as an innovative one that connects with the dialogue around museum display and inclusivity, as well as with fashion. Sinéad’s activism focuses on bringing visibility to inaccessibility and is underpinned by a desire to craft solutions with disabled people to build an equitable world. Furthermore, her involvement enabled NMS textile conservators to directly participate with a project that improves visibility for disabled people within the museum setting. In this case, Sinéad’s collaborative ethos enabled NMS, and the wider museum sector, to learn from her lived experience as a disabled person within the complex, highly visual world of fashion.

Acknowledgements The authors would like to thank the many collaborators on the project who gave their expertise and advice. Special thanks to Sinéad Burke and Gaetano Miraldi and the team at Proportion London, as well as our NMS colleagues, including Lynn McClean, Principal Textile Conservator, for all their help and support. 29

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References Ahmed, O. (2017). A new generation of casting directors putting diversity first. Business of Fashion. ­Available from: https://www.businessoffashion.com/articles/news-analysis/a-new-generation-of-castingdirectors-putting-diversity-first/ Burke, S. (2017). Why design should include everyone. Online video, YouTube. Available from: https://www. ted.com/talks/sinead_burke_why_design_should_include_everyone?language=en Flecker, L. (2012). A practical guide to costume mounting. Abingdon: Routledge. Franklin, C. (n.d.). All walks beyond the catwalk – being a diversity visionary. Franklin on Fashion. Available from: https://franklinonfashion.com/all-walks-beyond-the-catwalk-being-a-diversity-visionary/ Geczy, A. & Karaminas, V. (2017). Critical fashion practice: from Westwood to Van Beirendonck. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Ling, W., Lorusso, M. & Segre Reinach, S. (2019). Critical studies in global fashion. ZoneModa Journal, 9(2), V–XVI. Pro Infirmis (n.d.). Because who is perfect? Online video, YouTube. Available from: https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=E8umFV69fNg theFashionSpot (2017). Report: fall 2016 was a banner season for runway diversity, especially in New York, 16 March. Available from: https://www.thefashionspot.com/runway-news/740117-runway-diversityreport-fall-2017/ World Health Organization (2023). Disability. Available from: https://www.who.int/health-topics/ disability#tab=tab_1

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 Notably this percentage has continued to increase: for Autumn/Winter 2022, analysis of 4,409 model ­appearances across 193 major presentations showed 48.6% of castings were models of colour. 2 Standard bustforms are usually composed of a papier mâché foundation strengthened internally with resin and covered in undyed calico.  3 Featureless calico or cloth covered heads can be attached, as well as soft arms and legs; soft limbs perform well as costume supports but are not suited to being visible. Hybrid bustforms with fibreglass legs and wooden articulated arms are also commercially available. 4 Perhaps most usefully when working within an exhibition time-line where it is necessary to order the display mannequins before some objects are available for fitting, ‘cuts’ can be made to figures retrospectively, albeit with some cost attached. 5 Oddy tests should still be carried out on materials from new suppliers, however, since products such as fibreglass are likely to differ somewhat in composition. 6 Proportion London have a museum arm of their business, but it was the retail section that was most ­appropriate for our needs due to the limited time available. 7 Personal communication: telephone conversation between Miriam McLeod and Gaetano Miraldi, 24 June 2022. 8 Sodium alginate is used as to make impressions for dentistry and prosthetics as well as life casting; it is refined from brown seaweed and has good gelling properties.

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1.3 MODERN TEXTILE CONSERVATION AT THE VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM* Roots, evolution and rapid changes Marion Kite Roots In order to understand textile conservation at the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A) today, it is essential to understand its roots and the massive changes which have occurred in conservation in general, and especially in textile conservation, still a very young profession spanning only the last 70 years. One hundred and fifty years ago the V&A had workers, predominantly men, called ‘repairers’. In 1856 the site thought most suitable for the ‘Art Workshop’ was a dark, damp basement. There remains very little reference to the materials and techniques they used, although every medium and every type of work was attempted, including: ‘taking down tapestry in the Raphael Gallery, framing paintings in the North Court, mounting miniatures in Reception, framing and mounting needlework in the North Court from 8 am to 8 pm’ (Webber, 2005: 3).

Textile conservation training at the V&A During the 1960s and 1970s textile conservation training was undertaken in post, and the textile conservator’s skills developed within the overarching professional framework but also to meet the direct needs of the museum work required. Recruitment was at ‘Assistant Conservator’ level (the most junior grade and equivalent to museum band 5 today), and it was usual for a trainee textile conservator to enter the post with a first degree and highly developed practical skills within the field of textiles. Many came from art school backgrounds with National Design Diploma, Diploma in Art and Design or Bachelor of Art qualifications in fashion or textiles. These recruits had therefore studied history of art, textile history and the history of fashionable dress and had gained many of the practical craft skills of weaving, textile printing, embroidery, pattern cutting and drawing. In-post training in the V&A during the 1970s was not unlike an apprenticeship, based around aptitude and craft skills. Some formalized in-post training was provided in materials science and particularly in chemistry if necessary. In the 1970s there were few textile conservation publications for

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DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-5

Marion Kite

the trainee to study. The basic reference works of the day were The Rice Papers (such as Rice, 1967; 1969), The Conservation of Antiquities and Works of Art by Plenderleith (1956), Leene’s Textile Conservation (1972) and Waterer’s Guide to Conservation and Restoration of Objects Made Wholly or in Part of Leather (1972). The Crafts Council Conservation Science Teaching Series did not follow until the early 1980s (Weaver et al., 1982; Moncrieff & Weaver, 1983; Newey et al., 1983). After four to five years, the suitably skilled Assistant Conservator was promoted to Conservator (equivalent to museum band 4 today) and was considered suitably skilled and knowledgeable to take responsibility and make informed decisions about the treatment of an object. A further 10–25 years was required to attain the advanced skills, publication output and international reputation required for a further promotion to Chief Conservator (equivalent to museum band 3 today). The training was influenced by the abilities of the individual and the needs of the work programme. Publication was not mandatory but was encouraged. The first formal qualification at the V&A was the Museums Association Certificate, which trainee conservators had the opportunity to pursue although many considered it irrelevant, having gained promotion to Conservator. The mindset was still very much that a position at the V&A could be a job for life. By the mid 1980s the V&A also started to employ the first textile conservators graduating from formal conservation training courses. From 1989, the Royal College of Art (RCA)/V&A Postgraduate Conservation Programme itself provided postgraduate learning and research opportunities through partnership and collaboration with leading museums and heritage organizations in London, and in association with Imperial College London (Von Imhoff, 2009). The foundation of the MA experience was the use of the professional work environment for learning, and each student was hosted by a leading conservation studio. This integrated approach, combining workplace practice and a programme of academic learning, produced graduates at an advanced level, many of whom now occupy senior positions in the profession both in the UK and internationally.

Rapid changes 1980–2000: politics and focus on the visitor experience In the early 1970s the V&A focus was on displays and gallery work, core collections and occasional small loans. There were approximately eight permanent textile conservation staff plus a part-time seamstress who sewed objects onto boards and made linings. Whilst all textile conservators were expected to have a broad skill base, two worked permanently on tapestries and carpets which were regarded as a separate specialism. The conservator would discuss the object with the Head of Textile Conservation and with the curator concerned. Close collaboration with curators was an essential part of V&A conservation work and continues into the twenty-first century. Once a treatment had been agreed, the work commenced and went on until it was completed. By today’s standards the pace of professional life was slower, and although there were deadlines, there were fewer conflicting priorities. With dress, the conservator undertook the conservation and a curator usually mounted the garment, but by the late 1970s, a shift had occurred and textile conservators were becoming more involved with the mounting. This shift coincided with the re-display of Gallery 40, known as the Dress Court, the primary gallery for dress and accessories (Figure 1.3.1). By its re-opening in 1985, costume mounting had been brought firmly into the discipline of textile conservation, and complex underpinnings had begun to be developed to support heavy dress objects for the 25-year projected life of the gallery. This work was assisted by the seamstress, who took patterns and made some of the underpinnings. Within the V&A the first major multi-venue international tours started around the early 1980s and these also influenced work practice. Conservators started to take on project management roles because of the huge quantity of objects to be conserved, mounted, packed and made ready for shipment 32

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Figure 1.3.1 Evening dress and rouleau belt by Madame Gres. The Cecil Beaton Collection. T.246V&A-1974.  © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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by a given date. A more structured, business-like approach was introduced into studio practice, with an understanding of time management and the resource implications required to deliver a project to a deadline. There was also a greater understanding of risk from handling and movement. It is particularly relevant that from the early 1970s to the mid 1990s, many V&A conservators were encouraged to undertake private conservation commissions in their own time. The V&A permitted studio space to be used after hours, but many set up well-equipped workrooms in their own homes. This out-of-hours opportunity not only increased the income potential but enabled an astute conservator to develop business skills and widen his or her practical skills, leading to an increased speed of working, financial acuity and an understanding of good business practice. This privately gained experience reflected on the individual conservator’s V&A work in a positive way. Some built up personal reputations as specialists with particular types of objects and developed networks of contacts in the museum and art worlds. Many also worked for other museums which had no in-house conservators. There were very few formally trained textile conservators working in private practice during the 1970s, and for many museums and collections, these conservators provided an important service. Such was the demand that under the direction of the Head of V&A Textile Conservation, Sheila Landi, an ‘outside work scheme’ was set up, based in the V&A Textile Conservation Studio and devoted to large objects at Osterley Park House. This income-generating initiative enabled work on important large textiles from historic houses, the National Trust and other national collections to be undertaken by freelance, trained conservation staff into the 1990s. By the time Lynda Hillyer took over as Head of Textile Conservation in 1989, the V&A had developed a long-term future planning strategy for the systematic updating of suites of galleries; at the same time the exhibition and loans programme was gaining momentum. The Museum sought to consolidate its status as an international museum with an unmistakable brand through a marketable commodity – its collections. The success of the Hankyu loans programme, a series of five large multi-venue loans travelling within Japan, pointed the way forward for making the V&A brand and its collections directly accessible the world over. By the close of the twentieth century, a change had occurred in the role of the conservator within the context of engagement with the museum’s overall strategy. Conservators had to make the shift from concentrating on developing themselves as highly skilled specialists in a chosen area of interest to a deeper understanding of how their role fitted into the overall strategy of the museum. Professional development had to fit within these parameters to ensure the availability of knowledge and skills the museum would require in the foreseeable future. The V&A exhibition strategy led to focused research on, for example, environmental conditions for display, dust monitoring and the effects of vibration during travel (Ashley-Smith et al., 1993; Shah, 2007). The exhibition strategy had a major effect on the textile conservators’ work and precipitated rapid development in several areas. A greater understanding of the effect of environmental fluctuations on textile materials was developed. There was targeted research into materials, including those from species of fauna used within textiles of all cultures represented in the V&A collections. Species identification has become an essential part of the travelling exhibition and loans programme so as to meet the restrictions imposed by the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species legislation. Costume-mounting skills and packing methods also underwent marked development in the early 2000s (Flecker, 2007). In order to improve visual display, provide suitable support for fragile dress and allow for the safe multi-venue transport of large numbers of dress objects, work practices had to be reconsidered to increase efficiency and improve practice. Freight charges are a major consideration for travelling exhibitions, and the conservator 34

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must bring skills to bear not only to keep conservation and mounting costs to a minimum, but also to assist the technical services team by designing and manufacturing soft packing to keep size and bulk to a minimum, whilst still ensuring that mounted dress arrives at its multi-venue destinations in a condition fit to display without further intervention. Conservators also began to take a more important and active role in the interpretation and understanding of objects. Pattern taking and facsimile making came within the remit of textile conservation, as they were regularly used in gallery display work as part of the learning and interpretation initiatives associated with major projects. As a further demonstration of their strategic engagement, by the close of the twentieth century conservators were beginning to be routinely invited to project meetings for most of the museum’s object-focused activities early in the development stages and were represented on planning teams and focus groups. Conservation input at an early stage had become recognized as an essential part of the practical delivery and feasibility of any major project and an essential element for budget planning.

Textile conservation at the V&A, 2010 At the close of the first decade of the twenty-first century, all work at the V&A was governed by the Strategic Plan and the overall Future Plan development strategy. The underlying philosophy is rooted in making the collections accessible, inspiring creativity and enhancing the visitor experience. The V&A is directly reliant on government for annual funding, through the Department for Culture, Media and Sport, and has to meet predetermined targets relating to visitor numbers and audience diversity as well as cost-effectiveness. As an essential element of forward planning, conservation input to each project is now routinely estimated. For the textile conservator, this costing exercise breaks down into conservation time, mounting time, mannequin costs, materials costs, packing costs, condition reporting and documentation. Due to the enormous costs involved, it is financially desirable for each major exhibition to travel to as many international venues as possible. Multi-venue international exhibitions also allow many visitors who cannot travel to the V&A to access the collections; visitors are an essential element in meeting targets, so a strong travelling exhibition and loans programme is likely to continue for the foreseeable future. In 2009 there were 14 international multi-venue exhibitions already travelling, with a further four or more likely to be added to the list over the next one to two years. Couriering, condition checking and exhibition installation have become a routine part of conservation work. In order to keep costs down, conservation intervention must frequently be kept to a minimum, and this too has led to a change in how V&A textile conservators select possible treatments. Less interventive treatments, designed solely to make the object stable, are often possible if the mount provides full support to the object concerned. If the object then also travels upon the mount, handling is kept to a minimum and costs are saved. In the current financial climate, cosmetic interventions, which improve the overall appearance but offer little improvement to structural integrity and stability, are less likely to be undertaken. It is part of a conservator’s professional responsibility to share their knowledge and research findings, and certainly the grade individuals achieve is partly determined by the number of their peer-reviewed publications. Today there are new opportunities for publication as online publications and short contributions submitted to the V&A website are excellent outlets for busy conservators to share their work. V&A career progression and grade are determined with reference to the V&A Conservator and Science Excellence Model, designed to work alongside the Institute of Conservation Accreditation scheme. This excellence model precisely sets out the framework of skills and achievements required by each band or grade within the V&A conservation structure. 35

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In-house resources for analytical research projects are limited, so it has become the norm to seek collaborative partners from universities and other institutions with whom to develop mutually interesting research projects which could not be achieved by any other means in the current financial climate (see the case study by Haldane et al. in Chapter 6). Such collaborations also make V&A research more relevant to a wider group of people. V&A conservators are constantly on the lookout for possible partners and apply for national and international funding to foster research.

Managing textile conservation Since 2004, the new Furniture, Textiles and Fashion (FTF) conservation specialist area has been part of the Collections Services Division, which also includes Exhibitions, Loans, Documentation and Collections Management, Technical Services and Photographic Studios. The FTF conservation team comprises some 20 permanent staff plus a number of contract workers, students and interns (Figure 1.3.2), including freelance conservators undertaking project-based contract work in their own studios. All the textile conservators are able to mount costume, but most are not as fast as the specialists. The skill base amongst the textile conservation team includes the ability to deal with all textile materials, natural fibres, synthetic polymers, and organic and inorganic decorative elements associated with textiles of the various cultures represented within the V&A collections. Textile conservators are required to have broad general textile conservation knowledge, but several have also developed specialist expertise in certain areas, such as tapestry conservation, Asian

Figure 1.3.2  The V&A textile conservation studio. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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material, archaeological textiles, animal products and others. It is essential that specialist skills be shared so that skills are not lost when a team member moves on. With the overarching requirements of the V&A always in mind – the ambitious public programme, the need to deliver within strict budgetary parameters and increasingly restricting financial constraints – there has been a marked change in the management style of the Conservation Department. This swing towards conservation as a cost-effective business has been rapid and has escalated within the last three years as we have moved increasingly towards a project culture. Managing the FTF team, and particularly textile conservation, is centred on ensuring sufficient resources are available to deliver the constantly evolving five-year Strategic Plan and the touring exhibitions and loans projects, which are continually updated as new requests come in. The textile conservation work programme is fully committed a year in advance. At a mid 2009 planning update, textile conservation had work already scheduled for the next two to three years for the full-time equivalent of 15 staff. Managing the section’s annual consumables budget is part of the Head of FTF’s role. Budget bidding and planning take place six months before the annual budget is allocated; strategic upgrades and ongoing improvements to studio facilities and equipment must also be included. Since 2006 additional space has had to be negotiated to accommodate the extra staff required, and for large object work, bulk materials storage and completed objects awaiting installation or shipping. Business acumen and negotiating skills are essential for a textile conservation manager, as is the ability to plan at least five years ahead. Finite staff numbers and a work programme requiring greater input than there are staff hours available mean that, as well as treatment compromises, contract staff are essential and these must be negotiated against project budgets and planned for well in advance. The textile conservators must work as a team and understand the common goals. All must be good at time management, efficient, adaptable and willing to constantly refine and re-assess work practice in order to balance budgets and deliver programmes on target. It is essential to constantly re-appraise the skill base of permanent staff against future projects in order to ensure that skills are continually developed and in place to meet the Future Plan as it evolves. Assisting conservators in continuous professional development is therefore an important part of a manager’s role. Textile conservators are encouraged to pursue professional accreditation as they gain in experience; ­attaining this status reflects well on both the individual conservator and the V&A.

Future skills needs Textiles, and particularly dress, have become increasingly high profile both within the V&A and internationally, and demand for dress display is high for the foreseeable future. New methods of interpreting dress to enhance understanding are also of high focus (Figure 1.3.3). An increasing amount of time is now spent on costume display in addition to interventive conservation treatments. More textile conservators are required to meet the increased demand, even though minimal interventive work is undertaken. The seamstress post, which supplied limited technical assistance in the 1970s, has evolved into a major dress mounting specialist role undertaken by four full-time staff. In the next five years it is likely that a team of five to six costume-mounting specialists will be required in order to deliver the V&A Future Plan and Public Programme. The demise of training courses offered by the Textile Conservation Centre and the RCA/V&A has created a particularly challenging situation for the V&A. A way to ensure a continuity of suitable skills and trained conservators must be found urgently. It is a paradox that good training takes time, but new skill development needs to be fast to be in tune with rapidly developing professional and museum needs. One practical solution is to set up formal apprenticeship training undertaken over a minimum three-year period, including a solid academic grounding and broad-based skill 37

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Figure 1.3.3 Today conservators are frequently asked to mount dress so that it is fully supported but interpreted without a visible mannequin. Compare this style of mounting with the same dress as it was displayed in the Costume Court in the late 1980s (Figure 1.3.1). © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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set, which could be adapted and re-focused according to the need to provide a highly skilled and adaptable conservator. Working in a busy studio alongside practising conservators, the apprentice would gain on-the-job expertise in project management as well as practical conservation skills. It is currently a paramount consideration that financial constraints curb intervention on many occasions; risk of technical skill loss in the current climate is a serious concern. From a manager’s perspective, there is a need to maintain a sophisticated and broad range of skills to better inform the increasingly complex decision-making process; this is particularly important in a climate where more compromises must be made. A greater knowledge base will make selecting the most suitable treatments and appropriate compromises easier and, in the long term, provide greater safety for objects. A project-based staff culture has the practical effect that the in-house core skill base is always being depleted. This could mean that there is a broader skill base outside in the freelance world, but there are already insufficient numbers of skilled freelance conservators to call upon. The most skilled are also in highest demand and not always available. In recent years, courses have not always caught up with the changes in the skills currently most in demand within the museum culture. In order to satisfy a rapidly changing profession, future educators need to work closely with those working within the sector who will be the future employers of students undergoing training. The most serious challenge and pressing question which must be answered without delay is: where will our next textile conservators come from?

References Ashley-Smith, J., Martin, G. & Ford, D. (1993). Monitoring, packing and environment for multi-venue loans. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 1993, Washington DC. Paris: ICOM. Flecker, L. (2007). A practical guide to costume mounting. Oxford: Elsevier. Leene, J.E. (1972). Textile conservation. London: Butterworth. Moncrieff, A. & Weaver, G. (1983). Science for conservators, book 2, cleaning. London: Crafts Council. Newey, C., Boff, R., Daniels, V., Pascoe, M. & Tennant, N. (1983). Science for conservators, book 3, adhesives and coatings. London: Crafts Council. Plenderleith, H.J. (1956). The conservation of antiquities and works of art: treatment, repair and restoration. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rice, J.W. (1967). Principles of textile conservation science, no. VIII: drycleaning of fine and fragile textiles. Textile Museum Journal, II(2). Rice, J.W. (1969). Principles of textile conservation science, no. XII: adhesives for textile conservation. ­Textile Museum Journal, II(4). Shah, B. (2007). V&A analysis report 07–61-BS. Review of dust monitoring exercises at the V&A. Unpublished report, V&A. Von Imhoff, H.C. (2009). Aspects and development of conservator-restorer’s profession since WWII. e-­conservation Journal, 8, 53–61. Waterer, J.W. (1972). A guide to conservation and restoration of objects made wholly or in part of leather. London: George Bell. Weaver, G., Ashley-Smith, J., Roy, A., Staniforth, S. & Barker, H. (1982). Science for conservators, book 1, an introduction to materials. London: Crafts Council. Webber, P. (2005). Rising damp – a history of the conservation department. V&A Conservation Journal, 50, 3–6.

Note * Published in 2010.

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1.4 MODERN TEXTILE CONSERVATION AT THE VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM II* Dynamic display and agile conservation Lara Flecker, Joanne Hackett, Elizabeth-Anne Haldane Introduction On reviewing Marion Kite’s case study in this chapter, which was written in 2009, and examining the publication output of the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A) Textile Conservation Studio in the intervening period, several key areas of change emerged. These included the rise of the fashion exhibition and the fashion blockbuster, breakthroughs in mannequin development, refinements in wet-cleaning practice, the understanding and treatment of modern materials, and outreach and training in textile conservation.

2010 onwards: the rise of the fashion exhibition Following the great success of The Golden Age of Couture: Paris and London 1947–1957 in 2007, the Exhibitions Department of the V&A began to focus on the delivery of costume-based exhibitions from the Museum’s own collections. These were not just from the Furniture, Textiles and Fashion Department but the Asian, and Theatre and Performance curatorial departments as well. The V&A had begun a major campaign of permanent gallery refurbishment in the mid 1990s, and by 2010 approximately 70% of the Museum’s galleries had been redesigned. Attention turned to Gallery 40, the Dress Court; the redevelopment of the gallery saw the building of a two-level temporary exhibition space at the centre to satisfy the public’s appetite for fashion. Gallery 40 reopened in 2012 with a chronological display of historic costume and fashion from the permanent collection and the exhibition Ballgowns: British Glamour Since 1950. Over 500 objects were conserved and mounted for the reopening of the gallery, including 160 ensembles (Hackett & Miller, 2013). Beginning modestly, with 72 mannequins and minimal supporting material, the Gallery 40 temporary exhibitions proved very popular with the public and so they grew in scope and complexity. These exhibitions were included in the Museum’s international touring programme from 2014, resulting in ever-increasing demand on the Textile Conservation Studio’s time. The popularity of fashion exhibitions, and the need to generate income for the Museum, led to additional programming of fashion and textile exhibitions in the main exhibition galleries, so that in 2015 the Textile DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-6 40

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Conservation Studio delivered Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty in March, Shoes: Pleasure and Pain in June and The Fabric of India in October.

Textile conservation and costume mounting: a balancing act These demands have directly affected the makeup of the Textile Conservation Studio. During the decade to 2019, while the number of textile conservators at the V&A remained constant at eight, the number of costume mounters increased to six. Even then, additional temporary staff members, both conservators and display specialists, were needed to manage the biggest projects. The difficulty in finding temporary staff with costume-mounting skills became a pressing problem, and the V&A introduced a training post following an apprenticeship model, which was used to train three mounters prior to the 2020 restructure. An examination of work schedules in 2019 revealed that as a studio, Textile Conservation was devoting 70% of its time to temporary exhibitions, and that for the senior conservators a great deal of that time was spent on project management, not only for textile objects but as departmental liaisons for exhibitions. Most conservators also regularly acted as couriers for the V&A’s multi-venue international touring exhibitions. Staff worked with venues to install or deinstall objects, with each trip lasting on average two to three weeks. In 2021 the V&A embarked on a post-COVID-19 recovery with a restructure of the entire Conservation Department; the Textile Conservation Studio was formally divided into two ­teams: Conservation (seven posts) and Costume Display (five posts). Wider departmental roles such as conservation liaison were dispensed with, conservators now focusing solely on their own ­material specialism and increasing their active bench time. A new Conservation Operations Team was formed to provide a central point for the commissioning and resourcing of all work within the Museum, and a new Preventive Conservation Team was set up with responsibility for advising on all aspects of preventive conservation including training of museum staff. Two members of the former Textile Conservation Studio were transferred to the Preventive Conservation Team.

Dynamic display: moving on with mannequins The ambitious fashion exhibition programme and the introduction of blockbuster exhibitions has had a big impact on the role of the costume mounter at the V&A. With bigger budgets, more elaborate designs, and more extensive and high-profile object lists, the volume and complexity of work has increased. Blockbuster exhibitions were not limited to V&A collections but frequently included large numbers of loans. The lead costume mounter was often required to liaise and work with external archives and designers as well as find and manage teams of contract staff to mount the garments for display. The 2019 exhibition Christian Dior: Designer of Dreams required a record-breaking team of 17 costume mounters, who came from all over the world, to deliver what proved to be the most popular exhibition the V&A had ever staged. Project management became a key part of costume mounting, and it was common practice for the lead mounter on a big project to spend a large proportion of time organizing schedules, training contractors, liaising with internal and external designers, curators and exhibition teams, and in particular masterminding and managing the mannequin order. There is no doubt that display figures have become more complicated over time largely due to the blockbuster shows generated by the Theatre and Performance Department. These exhibitions required the mounting team to find ways to animate static performance costumes and bring them to life, even make them fly, while at the same time safeguarding objects and ensuring conservation 41

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standards were upheld (Gatley & Morris, 2013; Figure 1.4.1). New mounting techniques were developed, and costume mounters worked closely with colleagues from the Museum’s Technical Services Department to find creative solutions for these new display challenges (Miller & Dickinson, 2019). To help produce these more dynamic displays, it has also become standard practice to mount dress on fibreglass mannequins with heads, legs and arms. As stock figures supplied by mannequin companies were frequently too large, alterations were often required, and costume mounters began to collaborate closely with mannequin companies to develop and amend innovative fibreglass figures with smaller dimensions and bespoke heads and poses. In recent years the mannequin industry has begun to move from old-school sculpting methods to digital design, and over the past decade the V&A has utilized both the old and new approaches to deliver specialist figures. In 2013 a brand-new mannequin was sculpted entirely in clay to create a petite male figure for the David Bowie exhibition. Five years later, digital technologies were used for the first time to design and print the head for the Frida Kahlo mannequin used in Frida Kahlo: Making Her Self Up (Lee, 2019). By 2022 the Museum had commissioned three bespoke, fully digitally printed figures to display outfits from the Fashioning Masculinities exhibition. Usually, the process of printing mannequins is too slow and expensive for general production and is limited to prototypes which are then moulded and replicated in fibreglass and other materials. This is likely to be an exciting area for ongoing development, although research is required into the suitability of digitally printed materials for use with museum objects.

Figure 1.4.1 Trial of the mount for the costume for Superman (S.1692:1–6-2015): trial hang from the hoist in the Textile Conservation Studio. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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The need for cultural diversity in museum mannequins has been another area of focus for both conservation and curatorial teams. Most commercially available figures are sculpted with white features and characteristics, making adaptations to conventional mannequins problematic when displaying geographically diverse fashion. Initial approaches tended to sidestep the issue by selecting figures with featureless abstract heads or removing them entirely and by using ­neutral colours. More recently, however, a more proactive approach has been taken, and in 2022 the ­costume-mounting team worked in collaboration with curators and an external mannequin ­company to create a new head for the V&A’s Africa Fashion exhibition. Making use of digital technology once again, the features of the new head were inspired by a Sudanese model. Realistic colours were also used to represent different skin tones. This was the first significant step to make mannequins in the Museum more representative and will be the foundation for future developments. The issue of culturally appropriate display has also become a concern when mounting the clothing and fashion of other cultures. This issue was raised during the preparation for the 2015 exhibition The Fabric of India in relation to the wrapping and tying of saris and other South Asian garments. The Asian Curatorial Department was able to advise using the combined knowledge of various staff members. However, in preparation for the 2020 exhibition Kimono: Kyoto to Catwalk, outside experts in the styling of kimono from both London and Japan were consulted to ensure that the ensembles were appropriately presented (Lee & Werner, 2021; Figure 1.4.2). The Museum’s policy of sending large exhibitions on international tours, with costumes ready dressed on mannequins, has continued to generate design adaptations and improvements. Where previously simple fabric-covered torsos were used, the introduction of more complex fibreglass mannequins with limbs and off-centre, animated poses required additional consideration. New fixings were developed in collaboration with mannequin companies to ensure structural stability for dressed mannequins while on tour. Protective bags and covers used to pack dressed mannequins

Figure 1.4.2 Group of late twentieth-century and contemporary kimono displayed on T-bars and on ­mannequins in the V&A exhibition Kimono: Kyoto to Catwalk, 2020. © Victoria and Albert ­Museum, London.

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have been further refined, and the Museum began to outsource this work as the most cost-effective way of producing large quantities of packing. Costume mounting itself became an essential part of packing systems, the bespoke padding and underpinnings providing crucial support for travelling garments, making mounting techniques and methods even more important (Haldane, 2015).

Agile conservation: the pragmatic approach Remarkably, given the demands of the public programme, almost all textile conservation treatments are still carried out in-house. The major exceptions are the cleaning of large textiles, mainly tapestries, which are sent to De Wit Royal Manufacturers of Tapestry in Mechelen, Belgium for specialist wet cleaning. Very little else is sent out to external studios for conservation treatment, even on large gallery redevelopment projects. Only one large tapestry for the redisplay of the Europe 1600–1815 galleries was sent to a specialist tapestry studio in the UK for treatment as the preference is to hire temporary staff on contract. Bringing staff in has been found to be more cost-effective and allows for greater flexibility when it comes to the mounting of both costume and textiles. A tapestry will take up a known quantity of wall space, and the mount is simple; by contrast, the display of flat textiles is becoming more varied in part to aid interpretation of the object but often also to reduce the textile’s display size. A large proportion of the 200 objects displayed in The Fabric of India were flat textiles requiring a variety of methods to emphasize the different qualities of the objects and to enliven the display. Textiles were partially rolled, sometimes in overlapping displays, or draped and gathered over rollers, stitched to fabric-covered boards, hung from Velcro® or displayed flat-wrapped around bale forms (Figure 1.4.3). The sheer volume of textile

Figure 1.4.3 Display of dyestuffs and dyed textiles in The Fabric of India exhibition at the V&A, 2015, showing a variety of textile-mounting methods. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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mounts required for this exhibition prompted a collaborative project with Technical Services to redesign the fabric-covered rollers used at the V&A so that the top covers could be machine rather than hand sewn. The financial and brand awareness value of the V&A’s international touring exhibition programme has not diminished, and the Museum has been lending out increasingly complex exhibitions. As previously discussed by Kite, the preference is for less interventive treatments and to manage risk to the object through support mounts and managed handling. Clear documentation has been crucial to this process; objects sent on loan will have a condition statement, object packing note (for internal soft packing), crate packing note and installation/deinstallation note, and reference images for ‘styling’, not only for the arrangement of the folds of a dress or hem of a kimono but also for how groups of objects should relate to each other to convey the exhibition narrative. This level of detail has allowed for a relatively smooth transition to the world of ‘virtual couriers’ hastened by the COVID-19 pandemic. Following easing of the initial lockdown in 2020, several V&A exhibitions were dispatched to their destinations without in-person couriers. Rather than imparting instructions live over a video link, the focus was on briefing venues in advance of the documentation provided to them and letting them focus on object installation rather than talking to camera. Daily updates were provided to the V&A exhibition manager to share with the relevant staff, who could then offer advice. Although the number of in-person couriers sent out with exhibitions and loans has been drastically reduced, it has not been dispensed with entirely, and a riskbased approach is taken to determine when and where they are needed.

Conservation and research: focusing on collections care Given the project-driven nature of the V&A Conservation Department, research must by necessity be tied to ongoing and specific collection needs. The closing and decant of the Textile Galleries on the first floor of the Museum in 2011 presented Textile Conservation with just such an opportunity for targeted research. The contents of the Textile Galleries, as well as all textiles stored in the main building in South Kensington, were moved to the Clothworkers Centre for the Study of Textiles and Fashion located in Blythe House in West Kensington, which opened in 2013. Amongst the textiles being moved were 120 large carpets that had been on open display on hanging racks in the Textile Galleries for many years. The level and nature of soiling found on the carpets presented the research question: how to clean the high levels of surface soiling on the pile of the carpets without total immersion in water? This was addressed via a year-long research project funded by the Clothworkers’ Foundation, which allowed Senior Conservator Frances Hartog to visit various specialist facilities around the world and to try methods used in the commercial carpet-cleaning field not usually employed by conservators (Hartog, 2019; Figure 1.4.4). The result of this research was also found to have application in the cleaning of pile upholstery using microfibre cloths and in the cleaning of wall coverings and other water-sensitive textiles (Hartog & Porter, 2017). An exhibition programme featuring a great deal of mid to late twentieth-century fashion also presented the opportunity to investigate modern materials. The understanding and preservation of plastics in the collection had long been the focus of V&A conservation scientist Dr Brenda Keneghan. However, the need to display items from the collection that had problematic condition issues led to the development of treatment strategies to clean and conserve them. Beginning with the need to repair and secure cellulose acetate paillettes on a 1967 Paco Rabanne ‘disk dress’ for the 2009 exhibition Cold War Modern: Design 1945–70, Keneghan worked with textile conservators to provide practical solutions (Morris & Keneghan, 2011). The exhibitions Shoes: Pleasure and Pain in 2015 saw the development of the use of microemulsions to clean the plasticizers and 45

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Figure 1.4.4 Frances Hartog wet cleaning the surface of a 1936 English wool pile carpet (Circ.481–1974) using a damp microfibre cloth. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

soiling from the surface of aged PVC and polyurethane (Hackett, 2014). The exhibition Balenciaga: Shaping Fashion in 2017 required the Conservation Studio to look at ways of conserving cellophane, collaborating with paper conservation colleagues to trial the use of novel repair materials including dialysis tubing, which is also a regenerated cellulose (Haldane, 2017).

Outreach and training: new partnerships The V&A has long produced films and videos featuring conservation to support the public programme and to educate the public; many of these can be found embedded in the V&A website or on its dedicated YouTube channel. In 2019 the Museum invited Blast Films to film the documentary series Secrets of the Museum for BBC2. Much of the filming took place in the Conservation Department, and Textile Conservation featured in several episodes over the three series produced. While many staff found the experience of being filmed an enjoyable one and an opportunity to develop communication skills, some found the presence of the film crew disruptive to work. It is the nature of all filming that sequences that appear briefly sometimes take several hours to set up and film. The series was well received, however, regularly drawing over one million viewers for each episode with additional interest from around the world via the BBC’s digital services. It highlighted the varied work of conservators, curators, technicians, etc. to the general public and raised interest in the behind-the-scenes work at the museum. 46

Modern textile conservation at the V&A II

In addition, the V&A commissioned artist and practice-based researcher Julie Rose Bower to make a series of ASMR (autonomous sensory meridian response) videos of museum staff interacting with objects from the collection. Collections care staff and conservators who deal with objects in an intimate way were featured as they worked quietly, touching items and explaining their work. The video of the conservation of Sandie Shaw’s 1967 Eurovision dress being conserved by Susana Fajardo has been viewed over 750,000 times on YouTube, finding a far greater and more diverse audience than conservation videos usually would (Windross, 2020). In 2009 Marion Kite identified the training of future textile conservators as the greatest challenge facing the Textile Conservation Studio at the V&A. With the opening of the MPhil in Textile Conservation at the University of Glasgow in 2010, this fear was allayed and the V&A looked outward to provide training opportunities to conservators elsewhere. The Studio had always enjoyed a close association with the conservation training programmes in North America and Europe and hosted several long-term placements and fellowships as well as regularly hosting summer placements from the new programme in Glasgow. However, a need was identified to provide training internationally in areas where there were no established textile conservation training courses. In 2009 Lynda Hillyer, former Head of Textile Conservation, was asked to take part in a conference to raise awareness of textile conservation in India. The conference was organized by SUTRA, a non-profit organization founded in 2002 in Kolkata to raise awareness of India’s textile heritage and to encourage research. Hillyer enlisted the help of V&A colleagues to deliver training on the principles of textile conservation and the basics of collection care at an event called RAKSHA (from the Sanskrit word meaning to protect or save), held in Kolkata in 2010 (Haldane et al., 2012). In 2010 the V&A developed an International Strategy for India and secured funding for various projects including participation in a second RAKSHA event in 2011. Funding was also secured to enable two Indian conservators to come to the V&A for six-month internships in textile conservation (Kalsi, 2019). The opportunity to work directly with the collections dealing with ‘real-life’ treatment challenges has always been at the core of the V&A’s successful training initiatives. Usually, conservation training is provided at the V&A, either to students or visiting professionals who may be on short career-development placements or on courses run by the V&A Learning Academy. Several conservators at the V&A are employed as occasional visiting lecturers by conservation training programmes; staff members do this in their own time to reduce the impact on the work programme. Occasionally training happens further afield, such as in 2016 when one of the authors travelled to the China National Silk Museum in Hangzhou to deliver a week-long training course in the use of thermoplastic adhesives. The V&A had existing curatorial links with the museum and had previously hosted two members of staff to focus on collections management and storage of textiles. The China National Silk Museum sought advice from V&A conservators on the treatment of a newly acquired eighteenth-century European court dress, which led to the invitation to visit and assist in person. The links with the Silk Museum have proved invaluable as their textile conservators have often worked as couriers for V&A touring exhibitions in China. Most recently, in 2022 the V&A Textile Conservation Studio hosted three members of staff from the Palestinian Museum in Birzeit as part of a collaborative project to develop textile conservation skills and build the first textile conservation studio in the Occupied Palestinian Territories. The format is built upon a similar project the Palestinian Museum initiated with the British Library focusing on paper conservation. The project was funded by the ALIPH Foundation and was carried out with support from the V&A’s International Programmes Office (Ravtsova, 2023). It involved a reciprocal visit from V&A staff to the West Bank in 2023. 47

Lara Flecker, Joanne Hackett, Elizabeth-Anne Haldane

The future: sustainable practice Looking back to Marion Kite’s original case study written in 2009, it is worth recording that the fundamental principles underpinning the work of the Textile Conservation Studio have not substantially changed; the underlying philosophy at the V&A is still to make the collections accessible, inspire creativity and enhance the visitor experience. The V&A is continually evolving as an institution, constantly streamlining and looking for creative ways to fulfil its mission ‘to be recognised as the world’s leading museum of art, design and performance, and to enrich people’s lives by promoting research, knowledge and enjoyment of the designed world to the widest possible audience’ (V&A, 2023a). This ambition is reflected in the work of the Textile Conservation Studio from the development of more engaging display methods to the refinement of packing techniques to transport objects safely, and to open up these behind-the-scenes activities to television audiences. Researching and conserving the collections are still at the core of our work, although usually tackled as the need arises when objects are requested as part of the Public Programme. The importance of skill sharing, training and outreach has always been valued at the V&A, and opportunities to contribute to the profession are supported where possible, primarily through hosting student placements and delivering short courses. Looking forward, the biggest issue we face at the V&A is sustainability; this will impact every aspect of our job and practice as conservators, from balancing decisions about how we tour our large exhibitions to the choice of conservation materials for individual objects. Sustainability is now one of five key stated values of the V&A. The Museum has publicly shared its sustainability policies and has committed to annually publishing the results of a range of sustainability measures (V&A, 2023b). The issue of environmental control in exhibitions and the cost of temporary casing are already under scrutiny as the Museum strives to reuse materials from exhibition builds and increase the amount of open display. Various internal studies on dust within exhibitions over the years have indicated that using high plinths and positioning baffles at doorways can reduce dust accumulation on display, but the textiles remain vulnerable to pest infestation and a balance must be struck (Shah et al., 2011). Textile Conservation uses a tremendous quantity of silk, cotton, Tyvek® and polyester wadding, the majority of which is used in the mounting and packing of textiles and costumes for multi-venue tours. The design of this packing has been standardized over time so that it is easier to reuse for future projects, and the Studio is trialling ways of recycling our used and waste material. As a national museum, we are at a turning point where we need to start questioning our past practices in an effort to develop more sustainable solutions for the care of our collections. ­Although this is challenging, it brings with it exciting opportunities for research and development into new materials, conservation treatments and mounting techniques.

References Gatley, S. & Morris, R. (2013). Smoke and mirrors: what’s holding Hollywood costume up? V&A ­Conservation Journal, 61. Available from: http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/journals/conservation-journal/ spring-2013-issue-61/smoke-and-mirrors-whats-holding-hollywood-costume-up/ Hackett, J. (2014). Cleaning PVC with microemulsions. V&A Conservation Journal, 62. ­Available from: http://www.vam.ac.uk/content/journals/conservation-journal/autumn-2014-issue-62/cleaning-pvcwith-microemulsions-joanne-hackett/ Hackett, J. & Miller, K. (2013). An old case of new display: contemporary and historic fashion at the Victoria and Albert Museum. In A. Holden, R. Summerour, E. Schuetz, J. Carlson & G. Petersen (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2013, Indianapolis IN (pp. 57–74). Washington DC: AIC.

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Modern textile conservation at the V&A II Haldane, E.-A. (2015). Moving maharajas: the display and transportation of Indian costume and textiles. In H. Sutcliffe & B. Szuhay (Eds), Material in motion. Preprints, 10th NATCC, 2015, New York NY (pp. 145–158). NATCC. Haldane, E.-A. (2017). Shiny surfaces – the conservation of cellophane and related materials. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Embellished fabrics: conserving surface manipulation and decoration. Preprints, 11th NATCC, 2017, México City, México (pp. 117–128). NATCC. Haldane, E.-A., Glenn, S., Hunter, S. & Hillyer, L. (2012). Raksha – raising awareness of textile conservation in India. In A. Holden, S. Stevens, J. Carlson, G. Petersen, E. Schuetz & R. Summerour (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2012, Albuquerque NM (pp. 19–31). Washington DC: AIC. Hartog, F. (2019). Alternative methods of wet-cleaning knotted carpets. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned: textile conservation, then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau, Canada (pp. 268–282). NATCC. Hartog, F. & Porter. H. (2017). The powers of microfibre cloth. In S. Glenn & K. Smith (Eds), From boxes to buildings: creative solutions for the storage of textiles and dress. Postprints, Icon TG forum, 2017 (pp. 41–48). London: Icon. Kalsi, D. (2019). Creative pathways to developing a career in textile conservation in India. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned: textile conservation, then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau, Canada (pp. 341–355). NATCC. Lee, R. (2019). Frida Kahlo: making her up. V&A blog. Available from: https://www.vam.ac.uk/blog/ caring-for-our-collections/frida-kahlo-making-her-up Lee, R. & Werner, G. (2021). ‘A thing to wear’: the art of mounting kimono. V&A blog. Available from: https://www.vam.ac.uk/blog/caring-for-our-collections/a-thing-to-wear-the-art-of-mounting-kimono Miller, K. & Dickinson, J. (2019). On yer bike: performance and speed for V&ADundee. V&A blog.Available from: https://www.vam.ac.uk/blog/caring-for-our-collections/on-yer-bike-performanceandspeed-for-va-dundee Morris, R. & Keneghan, B. (2011). Cold War fashion: two case studies from an exhibition at the Victoria & Albert Museum. In T. Bechthold (Ed.), Future talks 009: the conservation of modern materials in applied arts and design. Pinakothek der Moderne, Munich, 2009 (pp. 110–117). Munich: Die Neue Sammlung. Ravtsova, E. (2023). Palestinian Museum x V&A partnership. V&A blog. Available from: https://www.vam. ac.uk/blog/museum-life/palestinian-museum-x-va-partnership Shah, B., Hunter, S., Adams, S., Bancroft, A. & Blyth, V. (2011). When the dust settles: dust monitoring in exhibitions at the Victoria and Albert Museum. International Preservation News, 55, 24–29. V&A (2023a). About us. Our mission. Available from: https://www.vam.ac.uk/info/about-us V&A (2023b). Sustainability. Available from: https://www.vam.ac.uk/info/sustainability Windross, T. (2020). ASMR at the V&A – with Charlie Chaplin’s hat. V&A blog. Available from: https:// www.vam.ac.uk./blog/digital/asmr-at-the-va-with-charlie-chaplins-hat

Note * Published in 2024

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1.5 PROJECT PLANNING AND MANAGEMENT* Ksynia Marko, Claire Golbourn

Introduction Project management is a discipline required for the planning, organizing and managing of resources for any sized project. The aim is the successful completion of specific objectives. It distinguishes itself from day-to-day management by focusing on the balance between time, cost and quality. We are all probably managing projects without realizing it. There are numerous professional qualifications for project management and online guides, but few conservators are actually trained as project managers; rather, they acquire the skills over time or find themselves taking on the role almost by default (Murray-Webster & Dalcher, 2019). In a large studio several projects run simultaneously, each with its own project manager, co-ordinated in turn by a studio manager. The studio manager must accommodate the varying needs of each project whilst working within the constraints of available resources and fixed budgets. All this can be quite complex, but even if a conservator works alone, perhaps in a freelance capacity, the desired outcome is the same: the project to be completed on time, meeting quality objectives and within budget (Harper-Smith & Derry, 2009). The need for good project planning and management within the heritage sector has grown over time due to the demands of greater accountability and public access. It is now rare to be able to spend unrecorded time conserving a single object at leisure, or to conserve something that is in store and simply part of the collection. With unlimited budgets and time, project management does not really exist because there is no external demand, but for most time and money are critical. Competitive tendering is now commonplace for larger projects with the emphasis on value for money, costing work to a predetermined specification and undertaking the work within a set time frame. Collections are assessed on many factors including condition, stability, public benefit and significance, but the final agreed outcome, whether the item is for permanent display, loan or exhibition, tends to set the deadline. Objects, like conservators, now have to work for their living and justify their existence. The number of support teams and wider stakeholders engaged with an object or event has grown, and the conservator is often one amongst many responding to the demands of a project. Planning and clear communication are vital.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-7 50

Project planning and management

Project plan Projects come in all sizes, from the building of a new museum or the acquisition of an historic house, to the conservation of individual items for display. The reason for conservation, whether preventive or interventive, dictates the planning process. The project plan defines the desired outcome but is likely to change over time, due to external factors or as discoveries are made; this is where management and communication are important. Successful planning relies on realistic assessments of ability, capacity, timescales for treatment and available budgets (see project 2). Complex objects with multiple parts and materials may first require an initial trial treatment to inform proposals and timescales before a full realistic plan can be devised. Embarking on a project assumes a level of physical or intellectual change; the object is physically changed through conservation and display coupled with an intellectual shift in perception through research and collaboration. Change could lead to chaos if aims are not clearly defined. There may be resistance to ideas, which needs to be sensitively managed. Regular interim reviews of how things are going can eliminate concerns and reinvigorate the team (see project 2). The following factors need to be considered: • What are you or the team trying to achieve? At the initial stage the required outcome should be clearly defined and agreed by all concerned. • How much time is required? Start and end dates, not only of the overall project but also of elements within it, should be agreed. The end date may not be easily changed, e.g., the opening of an exhibition, and may also be dictated by the start of the next project. • How will you or the team carry out the project? Tasks should be defined with timescales and priorities determined. If everyone feels involved there will be less resistance to change. • Who will do what? Team members’ roles and responsibilities need to be specified from the start. Consider the team’s strengths and weaknesses. No assumptions should be made as to knowledge and technical abilities. The team leader must be able to delegate when required to ensure tasks are manageable. It is essential to recognize that individuals may have concerns and require support. Team members should try to be flexible to additional demands, accommodating as much as is realistically possible but not being afraid to say ‘no’, making reasons clear. The team may require training in the use of specialist equipment or site-specific procedures. If volunteers are part of the workforce, they also require careful training and close supervision. • Are all necessary resources, equipment and materials available? Ensure adequate lead times are built into the plan, for such things as the design and manufacture of display cases, custom-made fabrics and mounts, and anything involving another contractor. • Does the project require health and safety assessments and audits? Projects involving chemical processes or treatments, moving of heavy equipment and use of tower scaffolds and ladders will necessitate the compilation of risk assessments. It may be necessary to take steps to reduce risks. This may be as simple as making the team aware of the risks or may involve specialist equipment and training. Health and safety measures are now an important aspect of our work. This can often seem onerous but if it becomes a natural part of the planning process, the team will feel confident and secure, allowing work to proceed smoothly. • Are you tracking time, project phases and planning contingency? Time management is essential, as one process will affect another. Contingencies allow for possible delays or unforeseen circumstances. In reality a large project nearly always requires a minimum contingency of 15% extra time, especially when working towards gallery or exhibition openings.

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• Are you creating clear lines of communication and providing regular updates? Complex projects will involve many people with different expertise. Assumptions should not be made about levels of understanding. This is especially true when working with non-specialists and less experienced team members. Decisions need to be recorded and project documentation circulated to all concerned; minutes of meetings are important. Regular review meetings provide reassurance for all involved and ensure any problems can be rectified quickly. If potential difficulties are encountered, the client must be notified without delay; early warning is everything. The project manager should also consider the right time to hand over information: too soon and it may be lost or forgotten; too late and it may cause delay. If a large project is split between two studios, the lead studio must ensure quality control through direct contact and dialogue. Also consider opportunities for communicating conservation to the public via films, presentations and publications, or by allowing them to see work being carried out at different stages of treatment. All this has associated time and budgetary implications. • How are budgets managed? Procedures should be approved, budgets delegated where necessary, all costs accounted for and any changes reviewed and agreed. Projects sometimes need to be completed over several years, allowing for fundraising and phased expenditure. The lack of a firm end date can make planning challenging, requiring patience and flexibility. In this situation the project manager must work to maintain momentum, requiring dedication, enthusiasm and retention of vision. This can often be difficult when there are also changes of personnel and priorities. Communication is vital, even if detailed planning proves difficult (Owers & Jordan, 2022). Often time constraints prevent a final review, but it is essential for future planning to learn from experience gained before, during and after each project. This is an opportunity to assess how the final outcome related to expectations of quality, time and budget and whether lessons were learnt. The review should be informal and can be used as a chance to thank people as well as to evaluate performance.

Context for case studies The following case studies are taken from the authors’ experience as conservators working for the National Trust, a registered charity founded in 1895 to look after places of historic interest or natural beauty for everyone, forever, across England, Wales and Northern Ireland. Its properties contain textile collections of international importance, numbering well over 150,000 individual items. The majority of these, often unique, objects remain on open display in the houses for which they were made or acquired. Visitors can admire grand furnishings such as state beds, fine tapestries, carpets and embroideries, as well as costume and ordinary domestic items. The Textile Conservation Studio is run as a business enterprise, serving both the needs of the Trust and private clients. All costs are covered by the work undertaken. The studio employs a team of professionals who carry out treatments and guide and train property staff in the care of textiles. Other training opportunities are offered through internships and short-term placements. The studio manager has overall responsibility for planning the work programme, for setting and monitoring annual and project budgets, and for quality control and deploying conservators when and where required. Individual projects are run by the elected conservator, who takes on the role of project manager reporting to the studio manager (Figure 1.5.1). 52

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Figure 1.5.1 A team of conservators working together to meet the project deadline for a set of embroidered bed curtains. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

Project 1.  Seventeenth-century English Mortlake tapestry from Cotehele, Cornwall: considering the needs of the object and the conservator when health and safety is a factor Cotehele was built between 1485 and 1539. Apart from important embroidered bed hangings and upholstered seat furniture, its walls are covered with tapestries mostly dating from the late seventeenth century. The focus of this project was the treatment of one of a set depicting the story of Hero and Leander, woven in wool and silk, which had suffered from failure of previous stitched repairs and the breakdown of adhesive covering 70% of the reverse. A large section at the lower right corner had been cut out and patched with plain tapestry-weave fabric. The tapestry was heavily soiled and discoloured, rendering the design almost unreadable. The aim of the project was to reverse the previous treatment, clean the tapestry and undertake a full stitched repair, allowing for some form of infilling of the missing area to improve appearance, techniques which would impact on other tapestries of the set. The conservation was undertaken as a result of a tender process whereby the treatment was in part dictated by the specification. The formal process asked for the inclusion of client visits, detailed documentation and supply of regular bulletins describing the different stages of conservation for public engagement purposes, each of which had to be priced on a bill of quantities. This in effect set the budget and project plan with start and end dates. One aspect of the project plan was adhesive removal (Figure 1.5.2). The methodology involved a repetitive task shared amongst a team of six people which itself required careful planning to meet the objective and timescale for wet cleaning. To allow the work to continue when the project leader was absent, detailed instructions ensured everyone worked to the same standard to achieve a consistent result. Materials were accounted for to ensure the budget was adhered to and information gathered for future reference. Individual concerns about health and safety were met by writing risk assessments and ensuring everyone was comfortable with the use of personal protective equipment and fume extraction. It was essential to create a rota and to set the time each person could work safely on the task in one day, which was closely monitored. Another process which required careful planning was the creation of a printed image to infill the large missing area. This involved several stages: liaison with a professional photographer, arranging access to photograph a tapestry at another site, discussion with the printer and finalizing fabric and colour choices (Arnott & Wilson, 2009). The process proved to be slower than 53

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Figure 1.5.2 Training was given in the use of safety equipment and monitoring for the adhesive removal phase of the Cotehele tapestry project. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. ­Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

anticipated and required agreement with the client to a time extension. Another reason for extending the project was the additional work found when the adhesive patches were removed. This had to be costed and agreed as extra to tender. The overall stitch support required careful time management and quality control, as this is often open to individual creative interpretation. Simple stitch guides were used to control spacing of stitching, ensuring uniformity of work from one person to another. An easy way of ensuring the project ran to plan and estimate was the creation of a chart detailing the tapestry sections and time taken for each, with information plotted on a graph (Figure 1.5.3). Where objects can be treated in measured sections, this gives a visual representation of the project progression. As in any project, conservators managed their own time. Personal daily timesheets with details of tasks were transferred to a job sheet. Materials used were also recorded. All these records help with invoicing. For long projects the frequency of invoicing is agreed with the client to ensure regular cash flow. Staged payments are another ingredient of successful project planning. A simple financial spreadsheet ensures actual costs are checked against the budget balance. A particular

Figure 1.5.3 Example of a graph used to monitor estimated hours of work against actual hours per 200mm section of tapestry. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind ­permission of the National Trust.

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aspect of this assignment was the need for detailed planning of processes. Specialist equipment allowed for safe working; therefore risk factors were minimized and the team felt secure. The roles and responsibilities of team members were clearly defined, and communication and close liaison with the client were essential.

Project 2.  Building works at Snowshill Manor, Gloucestershire: collaboration during a large-scale multidisciplinary packing project Snowshill Manor is a house packed with one man’s spectacular collection of artefacts, representing craftsmanship and design from across the globe. Charles Wade amassed the collection over 50 years before bequeathing the manor to the National Trust in 1951.1 By the 1990s the electrical wiring, fire detection and security systems were inadequate and unsafe, and parts of the internal structure of the building were deteriorating, putting visitors, staff and the collection at risk. Some 25,000 items, ranging from bicycles to Samurai armour, had to be removed within a set time frame, recorded and stored safely and returned without damage after completion of essential building works. Multidisciplinary teams of conservators, property staff and art handlers worked together, carefully packing and transporting objects to an off-site store. The project director had overall responsibility for setting the brief and objectives and for achieving the desired result with assistance from the project board. The board was made up of a further six people, four of whom were responsible for their own budgets, split between the needs of the building and the collection. The appointed project conservator was the key liaison person on site during the packing-up of the collection and was responsible for communicating with the board. The project was split into five phases. Firstly, the initial evaluation and costing was carried out some three years in advance of the project start date. Advisors from each conservation discipline visited the property beforehand to assess numbers of objects, specific packing requirements, time and materials required. Secondly, a day-to-day, month-to-month timetable was created for the packing and removal of contents, allowing seven months for completion. Teams of conservators from different disciplines were allocated specific periods of time. The house was divided into activity areas for packing and labelling and then for collection and moving to removal vans. A form of documentation was adhered to by everyone on site to avoid the possibility of loss of objects in so large a collection. It was essential to identify and make space for objects needing immediate attention before packing if they were found to be mouldy or damp. It was not only necessary for the project conservator to lay down strict rules but also to be able to respond to the needs of the moment. Thirdly, building repairs and the replacement of services took place while objects were in store; this had its own project team also reporting to the project board. Regular monthly meetings were essential, and the inclusion of appointed contractors and consultants was critical. Monthly reviews of financial plans were undertaken with a continued assessment of priorities and minutes of meetings circulated. Fourthly, teams returned on site over a five-month period to unpack and redisplay objects transported back from store (Figure 1.5.4). The final phase was the post-completion contract for snagging of building works during the retention period. Reviews were carried out at the end of each phase, identifying good practice and improvements required. Several lessons were learnt; the following are just a few examples taken from the final review: • Curatorial input. Because the project was centred around the building works, no provision had been made for basic conservation of the contents, although some essential work was carried 55

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Figure 1.5.4 Textile conservators working on site at Snowshill Manor during reinstatement of the contents. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

out during redisplay. Also, whilst the removal, storage and return of contents had been resourced and planned, the curatorial requirements of the project had not. Significant extra time, effort and re-allocation of funds had to be allowed for curatorial input. • Communication and collaboration. Time should be allowed to establish and develop a project team prior to the start date. This encourages team working and understanding of individual roles. Role profiles were produced to clarify responsibility and decision-making. Agreement by the whole team of the objectives of the project was critical. However, the expectation of what could be achieved varied, which reinforced the need for clarity of the project brief before planning any detail. Project milestones were identified for crucial stages and proved to be key to success. • Capacity. When appointing a project team, managers must ensure staff have sufficient time to fully commit to what are often unexpected demands arising during the project without it becoming an additional work commitment. For some team members, the lack of capacity led to stress and tiredness. Over 150 individuals were involved. This was the largest contents’ removal project undertaken by the Trust at the time and was completed both within timescale and under budget.

Project 3.  The Spangled Bed, Knole, Kent: balancing the needs of components within a short timescale Knole, a Jacobean house built between 1455 and 1608, is home to an internationally significant collection of early seventeenth-century furniture and tapestries. A five-year lottery-funded project, Inspired by Knole, was set up to restore the structure of the building and to conserve its important collection. As part of this venture the Spangled Bed, dating to the 1620s and one of three state beds at Knole, was conserved at the National Trust Textile Conservation Studio. The rich hangings of red silk satin are adorned with cloth of gold and silver appliqué, metal ‘spangles’, cords and metal fringe trimming. The whole project was overseen by the Knole project manager and was split into several phases, from initial evaluation and costings through to reinstallation, carried out by both textile and furniture conservators. 56

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In 2015 a multidisciplinary team worked together to remove the bed from display for initial trials and treatment of the bed curtains. Then in 2017 work began in earnest; the remaining 21 textile components, including nine valances, coverlet and three cornices, were treated before reinstatement in September 2018. Most of the studio space was taken over for this project, with up to 14 people working on 11 individual elements at any one time (Figure 1.5.5). The project was complex not only in demands of time and personnel, but also in terms of treatment, including working with 3D objects, researching and trialling new techniques and materials including wet cleaning of fragile silks, use of gels and poultices, as well as the use of Japanese paper techniques on the cornices and coverlet. The final phase was reinstallation at the property. However, several of the fixings had been changed during conservation, and a trial installation was first undertaken at the studio. This required co-ordination and assistance from furniture conservators and local property staff to raise and install the tester. Although there had not been an allowance to erect the bed off site, it proved to be a good decision. The bed was to be protected and displayed behind a newly installed glass screen, which ran the whole length of the room. In addition, a new heat mat sensor was fitted under the carpet, beneath part of the bed. Tapestries needed to be installed behind and around the bed, which meant that the reinstatement had to be phased over three visits to co-ordinate with other works.

Lessons learnt A project review was carried out at the end of the assignment, identifying good practice and any possible improvements that might help inform future work. Several lessons were learnt, and the final debriefing review was an essential and important part of the job. The following are just a few examples taken from the final review: • Project team. Initially, two project managers at the studio were responsible for day-to-day treatment of various components, but due to unforeseen circumstances this responsibility was later assigned to a single person, with additional assistance from the studio manager. This caused some stress with impact on capacity. Being flexible to the demands of the object, time or personnel is crucial. Communication with other parties involved is key to success.

Figure 1.5.5 Textile conservators working on multiple components from the Spangled Bed. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

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• Detailed and consistent documentation and filing. In theory each conservator was responsible for compiling information about the component they were working on. However, in practice this did not always happen. It soon became apparent that when several people were working together, no one took overall responsibility for transferring and collating information. A document was created for each element where information was recorded as work progressed, with the intention of transferring this to a digital record as part of the final report. The positions of design elements and stitching completed were marked up on printouts of each valance, allowing flexibility and handover to another person, a good and easy way to be time efficient. • Timesheets. A change from paper to electronic timesheets was introduced during this project. This became invaluable as all calculations were automatically collated, saving administration hours when invoicing (Table 1.5.1). • Time and initial trials. Research, trials and reflection, even with a short turnaround, are often essential. It is important to stop and ‘teach’ the whole team about new methodologies or discoveries, rather than relying on picking up information on an ad-hoc basis. Although the initial idea was to carry out a pilot treatment on one of the curtains, this was not completed before starting the remainder due to the short time frame available. • The trial run of the bed construction in the studio prior to erection at the property was invaluable and one that would definitely be repeated. Toiles were made of several components to check fixings and ease of handling. However, not everything can be achieved until actual reinstatement. • Communicating conservation. An opportunity arose to communicate conservation and publicize the project with filming and publications. Extra time needed to be allowed for interviews and filming, which is not always apparent at the start of a project.

Conclusion What makes a good project plan? A good plan requires beginning and end dates. It will reflect the capacity of different team members and the length of time required for different defined processes, allowing contingency time. The budget will dictate a number of these factors. The continual review of the project is essential. The use of Gantt charts2 or simpler management frameworks (­Figure 1.5.6) to plot the project progress and changes can help. What makes a good project manager? Project managers need to inform, inspire, motivate and encourage their workforce, using individual skills to the best advantage, able to delegate tasks, have good communication and problem-solving skills and the ability to be flexible and to remain calm under stress. Project management can be complex, but it is something all conservators do whether working as part of a team on a large project or working alone on a small object. Both circumstances require organization and some form of time management and financial planning. A textile conservator may find that they are particularly good at project management, and this skill may eventually take precedence over bench work. A conservator’s work in the heritage sector can vary widely. For example, carrying out on-site conservation treatments, involving communicating directly to the visiting public, requires careful time management. Packing up historic house contents for building works requires the organization of teams of people, from volunteers and other conservation professionals, to builders and transport companies. In all these varying activities a core framework can be applied which remains fundamental: the classic time/cost/quality triangle (Simon & Murray-Webster, 2018). 58

Table 1.5.1 Electronic work sheet enabling conservators to keep track of hours already worked on a project and those remaining. WORK SHEET NO. 2 JOB REF. NO. E904 Upper Inner Valences WORKSHEET NAME: Treatment   DATE

Daily hours per person TREATMENT DETAILS

Daily Total

Name

 

 

 

 

134.25

AB

CD

 

 

 

 05/03/2018

1

 5.5

 

 

 Preparation, set up, photography, start gridlines.

 06/03/2018

 6.5

 5.5

 

 

 Gridlines and reattaching spangles.

 07/03/2018

 3.75

 

 

 

 Reattaching spangles.

 08/03/2018

 4.25

 

 

 

 09/03/2018

 4.25

 

 

 12/03/2018

 

 7.5

 13/03/2018

 6.5

 14/03/2018

6.5

18.5

127.25 115.75

3.75

22.25

112

 Reattaching spangles.

4.25

26.5

107.75

 

 Reattaching spangles.

4.25

30.75

103.5

 

 

 Reattaching spangles.

7.5

38.25

96

 6.5

 

 

 Reattaching spangles.

13

51.25

83

 4.25

 7

 

 

 Reattaching spangles.

11.25

62.5

71.75

 15/03/2018

 

 5

 

 

 Reattaching spangles and photography of other valences in between.

5

67.5

66.75

 16/03/2018

 3.5

 5.75  

 

 Reattaching spangles and finish gridlines.

9.25

76.75

57.5

 19/03/2018

 

 7

 

 

 Complete reattaching of spangles, paper support. Fringe support.

7

83.75

50.5

 20/03/2018

 

 7

 

 

 Fringe support and Nomex sleeve.

7

90.75

43.5

12

6.5

Remaining Hours

21/03/2018

6.75

Nomex sleeve. Tinting Japanese paper

6.75

97.5

36.75

22/03/2018

2

Paper support on silk satin. Photography.

2

99.5

34.75

Invoiced 30/03/2018

Project planning and management

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Running Total

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Figure 1.5.6 Excel spreadsheet detailing a six-year phased work programme on a state bed and associated furniture. © National Trust, Textile Conservation Studio. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

However challenging a project, great teamwork, goodwill and problem solving are amongst the high points and must always be celebrated. Don’t forget to end a successful project by giving thanks and praise to your team.

Acknowledgements The authors would like to thank all property staff and conservators who have shared their experiences and knowledge on this subject.

References Arnott, H. & Wilson, N. (2009). To Hellespont and back – use of a photographic infill. In A. Fairhurst (Ed.), Mind the gap! Structural and aesthetic options for the treatment of loss in textiles. Postprints, Icon TG forum, 2009 (pp. 49–57). London: Icon TG. Harper-Smith, P. & Derry, S. (2009). Fast track to success: project management. Harlow: Prentice Hall. Murray-Webster, R. & Dalcher, D. (2019). Body of knowledge. Seventh edition. Princes Risborough:­Association for Project Management. Owers, E. & Jordan, M. (2022). In it for the long haul: collaboration and adaptation in conserving a set of sixteenth-century tapestries over 25 years. Studies in Conservation, 67(sup1), 200–208. Simon, P. & Murray-Webster, R. (2018). Starting out in project management. Third edition. Princes Risborough: Association for Project Management.

Notes * Published in 2010, revised in 2024. 1 Charles Paget Wade (1883–1956), architect, craftsman and illustrator. https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/ visit/gloucestershire-cotswolds/snowshill-manor-and-garden/history-of-charles-paget-wade-at-snowshill 2 A Gantt chart, devised by Henry Laurence Gantt for the building industry, is a commonly used type of bar chart that illustrates a project schedule with start, intermediary elements and finish dates.

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1.6 MOVING ON* The transition from museum conservation to private practice Howard Sutcliffe

Introduction The decision for any conservator to leave a stable full-time job at an institution to take the plunge into the world of private practice is a complex, challenging and always highly personal one. There is no one path to follow or right way to do it. My own decision had as much to do with family circumstances as it had to do with job satisfaction. The problems faced by the Detroit Institute of Arts during the financial crisis of 2008 followed by the bankruptcy of the City of Detroit in 2013 are well documented. This period led to major changes at the museum including my working parttime for two years beginning in 2012, followed by my eventual departure in 2014 after eight years as the textile conservator. In this essay, I will briefly discuss the reasons behind my decision to move into private practice, but I will focus more on the mechanics of how I accomplished this – what I considered, what worked and what did not. Private practice is sometimes viewed as a natural progression in a career, but it differs from working in a larger institution. There are definitely advantages and disadvantages to both. Although the non-conservation aspects – the business side – can be overwhelming at times, I have found the move to be invigorating. The work is varied, satisfying, and certainly no less interesting than some of the projects I was involved in during my museum career. Finally, I will examine how my business has changed over the years, and how I hope it will develop into the future.

The Detroit years In the spring of 2006, I moved back to the United States from my native United Kingdom to work at the Detroit Institute of Arts (DIA), which was well into a multi-year renovation project that involved the almost complete redevelopment of the north and south wings and the restoration of the original 1927 Paul Philippe Cret-designed building. The museum re-opened to great fanfare in November 2007, but by 2008 the global financial crisis was starting to bite. During that year

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the museum’s endowment decreased to critical levels due to the Great Recession and reduced contributions. In 2009 the museum laid off approximately 20% of its staff, with the conservation and curatorial departments hardest hit and cut by almost 50%. I was one of the lucky ones and retained my job.

The beginning of the end Even as the financial outlook started to improve in 2010–2011, several curators that survived the layoffs moved on to positions with other museums. These included colleagues who oversaw some of the major textile collections in the museum, which resulted in a dramatic reduction in my workload. The galleries at the DIA feature very specific narratives, and different types of objects cannot easily be switched in and out. During the museum’s redevelopment planning process in 2005–2006, curators choose eight textiles for each site and by 2012 the vast majority of these artworks had been stabilized. The further reduction in curators meant fewer exhibitions and fewer loans, which were the primary driver of my work at that point. As conservators all know, we do not work in isolation. The process is collaborative and one that relies on consultation with others such as curators, scientists, mount makers, etc., so the prospect of going into storage and picking out random artworks to work on seemed neither logical nor, more importantly, ethical. Around the same time (towards the end of 2011) my partner and I decided to buy a house in Montgomery, Alabama to be closer to family. With this in mind, it seemed to be the perfect

Figure 1.6.1 Creating a custom mount for a Kom Chimpanzee fetish mask tunic (DIA #2016.129) in the textile conservation laboratory at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Image courtesy of the Detroit Institute of Arts.

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opportunity to try something new professionally. I approached Alfred Ackerman, the Director of Conservation at the DIA, with the idea of working part-time (50% of the year). Rather than work for two and a half days per week, I would work full-time at the museum for four to six weeks and then I would be located in Montgomery for a similar period. Ackerman agreed that it seemed to be a good solution to the aforementioned issues, as did Graham Beale, the museum’s director.

Half in, half out Working part-time at the museum was definitely unfamiliar territory; nobody knew how it would work out as nothing like this had been achieved previously. Curators and other colleagues were notified about the timing and duration of my on-site work, and they were able to plan accordingly. It was a flexible arrangement, so if I needed to stay longer to complete a treatment or a consultation, I could accommodate this request (Figure 1.6.1). This period lasted from 2012 into 2014, and it was beneficial on several levels for both the DIA and me. The only reason this arrangement ended in 2014 was because I received an offer I could not refuse to sell my loft in Detroit. My relationship with the DIA continues to this day. Since 2014 I have continued as a contract conservator, and I spend about eight weeks at the museum every year working on objects for rotations in newer galleries. The two and a half years working part-time were invaluable as they allowed me the space and time to set up my private practice in Alabama, and to begin to understand how to actually run a business, all while receiving a regular (if reduced) income. In her case study Entrepreneurship and Conservation in the first iteration of this book, Patricia Ewer (2010: 40) states that ‘the third year is key in any business. That is the turning point when you should be making a profit’. I found this to be true, and having six months of guaranteed income for two and a half years helped to ensure my survival once I transitioned into private enterprise full-time. I had accepted private jobs when I worked at the DIA and previously during my time at the Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA), so I understood the side of business that dealt with clients. However, learning about the business side of running a business was new, as was learning how to manage the expectations of multiple clients at once, rather than one or two every year.

Business exposure During my undergraduate training in constructed textile design at Duncan of Jordanstone ­College of Art in Dundee, the university required we attend a number of business classes. They were geared towards setting up a small business with the main focus being on selling your skill as a producer/maker – so quite similar to what conservators do. Before joining the DIA, I worked in two for-profit studios: the now-defunct Textile Conservation Center at the American Textile History Museum in Lowell, Massachusetts, and the National Trust Textile Conservation Studio on the Blickling Estate in Norfolk, UK, which is a for-profit enterprise within the larger non-profit organization. My time at the National Trust working with Ksynia Marko was incredibly useful in learning about the business aspects of conservation and the world of billable hours.

First steps The first thing I did after deciding to go into private practice was to go through the copy of the American Alliance of Museums’ (AAM) Museum Directory. It lists every AAM-accredited museum, large 63

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and small, of every type in the United States. It provides information on the types of objects held in the collection, and the names and numbers for key staff at each institution. I wrote to every museum in the southeast that listed textiles in their collection. Most of the people I wrote to were registrars, curators, and some conservators in other disciplines. In my letter of introduction, I stated who I was, that I was setting up a private practice in Montgomery, and I outlined the services I would provide. I also included a copy of my resume and a business card. I sent out well over 400 letters. It proved to be a very effective strategy, and people started to contact me almost immediately. What is more amazing to me is that people kept those letters, only getting in touch when they had projects where they needed help – some corresponding several years after I initially sent the letters out.

Location, location, location Choosing the right location for a business is of course very important. It quickly became evident that the southeast was underserved in terms of available conservators in all media. Montgomery was well placed at the intersection of the interstate highways I-65 and I-85, meaning that cities such as Birmingham, Atlanta, New Orleans and Nashville were all within an easy four-hour drive. Within the first six months of moving to Montgomery, I travelled to all of these cities, visiting the museums there and meeting with staff members to introduce myself in person.

Support networks In a happy coincidence, several of my fellow cohort of Mellon Fellows from the PMA all ended up working in the south, two in private practice and two working for the Atlanta Art Conservation Center. It was an instant mini-network, and, as we all worked in different disciplines, we were able to refer work to each other without hesitation (which fortunately continues today). In preparation for a move from museum work to private practice, it is always a good idea to consult with friends and others that have made similar decisions. I found most people to be open and honest, and chances are they will have done the same thing themselves. I will always be grateful to people like Nancy Love, of Philadelphia Textile and Object Conservation, who provided help and insights along the way about things like insurance, billing, forming a limited-liability company, etc. How to price your work has always been a hot topic amongst conservators in private practice, and it is good to have an idea of the general rates that others are charging. Ultimately, I think it comes down to making sure that you cover your overheads and have enough to pay yourself a decent salary at the end of the day. Even after 10+ years of experience, proposing the exact right amount on an estimate is still an issue for me. I remember a conversation I had with Linda Eaton at Winterthur about a private project I had taken on in Philadelphia. She very wisely (and perhaps half jokingly) told me to figure out the number of hours I thought the project would take, double that number and add 10%, and that might be close to what the project would actually entail. I can no longer remember how that particular project turned out, but there have been plenty since where I wished I had taken her advice!

The first studio Having a space in which to work that is separate from where I lived was important to me. In Detroit, I had a spare bedroom where I worked, and although I could close the door and walk away, the projects were always ‘there’, always a bit too accessible. When looking at houses in 64

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Montgomery, having a separate structure on the grounds to use as a studio was at the top of my must-have list. For me, owning my studio spaces was preferable to renting as it keeps overheads fairly low and provides a number of important tax deductions, and it has enabled me to keep the business quite nimble over the years in terms of its finances. The house we moved into had a small building in the backyard that met my requirements. It was a pool house and was about 300 square feet with a bathroom and built-in closet. In terms of construction it was not top quality, so we completed renovations that included adding double doors and extra windows. Inside, the structure was taken down to the studs and closed-cell insulation foam with a R-Value of 6.5 (JM Corbond® III) was sprayed in before new drywall was installed. The closed-cell insulation helped to regulate the environment in the structure during the seasonal fluctuations that can be extreme in Montgomery.

Equipment Creating a studio goes well beyond just bricks and mortar. Equipping a studio can be a very costly exercise. I achieved this gradually, buying equipment and furniture as necessary or as projects demanded over the years. Beyond a mortgage, I never had the need to pursue funding for the studio’s purchase and set-up. One of the major differences between working in an art museum (especially large ones that have great research facilities) and private practice is that you do not have access to the equipment you once did. There is no more science lab or photo suite, and no scientists or imaging specialists for that matter either. But it is interesting what you can do with limited resources. My very first experience with textile conservation was in 1995 during a visit with Ann Tullo at the Whitworth Art Gallery in Manchester. At that time Ann had little more than (in her words) ‘a couple of tables and a bucket’, and she appeared to manage quite well looking after the second largest textile collection in the UK, although I am sure she would have loved to have had the facilities they now have. With this humble lab in mind, I started out with the basics – a good vacuum cleaner, some height-adjustable Lifetime© tables, and some Gladiator® garage works storage units. For aqueous cleaning, I bought gallon jugs of deionized water from Amazon, which also proved to be a good source for chemicals and solvents. With all that being said, however, research has not been, and I doubt ever will be, a big focus of my work in private practice. Clients, particularly individuals, will probably have some interest in the material science aspects of their objects, but they are not going to pay for you to investigate things to the extent you might be able to in a museum setting. In the ten years I have been in private practice, I have had one client who wanted to have carbon dating carried out on an ancient Indigenous American textile (I sent them to the University of Arizona Accelerator Mass Spectrometer Lab). While I rarely have an opportunity to perform analysis in private practice, my ongoing relationship with the DIA, and specifically with Christina Bisulca, the conservation scientist, has fulfilled my desire for continual education.1

The second studio In 2019 we moved to Smith Lake, which is northwest of Birmingham, Alabama. Here, our house and the studio were designed2 to occupy two sides of the same building separated by a breezeway. It was a luxury to design a studio from scratch. It is still a modest-sized space, about 650 square feet, but I tend to not work on extremely large objects.3 Again, flexibility in the space was key – modular tables and cabinet storage help enormously in being able to arrange the space according to a particular project’s needs (Figure 1.6.2). 65

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Figure 1.6.2 Civil War uniforms from Shiloh National Historic Battlefield, National Park Service in the studio at Smith Lake. Image by Howard Sutcliffe.

I will say that no matter how much space you have, you generally always end up needing more, both for the storage of objects before and after conservation, and for materials. Because of the prevalence of severe weather in northwest Alabama, there is a safe room, which now also plays a second role as an object storage room. I rarely work with large amounts of solvents, but for small treatments I have a portable fume extraction unit. I recently worked on a c.1890 Imperial Indian elephant jhul (cover) that had been damaged in a major water leak at the client’s home while out of town. It was folded and stored in a plastic mattress bag, and it had been left alone for three months before it was sent to me. It was completely covered in mould. I did not want to have the object in my studio in that condition, so on a rare summer day with low humidity I spent a morning surface and solvent cleaning the jhul outside. This was not my first instance of conservation al fresco, and I doubt it will be my last (Figure 1.6.3).

Travel From the outset, it was clear that I was going to have to travel for work. Even the largest of southern cities lacks the density of museums with funds available for conservation that would allow me to work in one spot 100% of the time. I have always enjoyed travel, so this quickly became a part of my work that I really appreciate. There are generally two types of travel that I undertake: the first are quick trips where I go to pick up or drop off a project – I generally try and time these so that I can visit a number of clients in one trip. 66

Moving on: from museum to private practice

Figure 1.6.3  The jhul being treated outside the studio at Smith Lake. Image by Howard Sutcliffe.

The second type is working on-site, and I do a lot of this. At the time of writing (August 2022) I have spent just over three months this year on-site at museums from California to Michigan to Georgia. In a normal year I will easily drive 20,000+ miles for work. Most of the institutions I visit are now regular clients, so it is easy to just to ‘dip in and out’, some have workspaces that are more sophisticated than others, and quite often projects will also include an element of public outreach – either giving talks about conservation or working in view of the public (Figure 1.6.4). I like being back in museum environments, without any of the drawbacks of administrative work and meetings. I also find that when I am on-site for a limited period, the people with whom I work are far more appreciative of what I do, and actually will listen more, so my influence, at least in terms of giving conservation advice and instruction, is more effective.

Expectations versus reality I always thought that I would enjoy life in private practice. It can be a solitary experience, but I was the only textile conservator at the DIA and similarly worked in isolation for long periods at a time. Friends and colleagues are only a phone or Zoom call away if you need to ask questions or run ideas by others. The expectations that I had when I set out in this venture are however quite different to the reality. I did think that I would be able to work at most four days a week. This notion still makes me chuckle. I always work six or seven days a week, and most weeks an eighth day would be quite useful! I believe this mindset/attitude/approach/work ethic is tempered by the fact that my 67

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Figure 1.6.4 Working in the galleries: tapestries being relined. Tours are allowed to walk by the workspace at the Flint Institute of Arts. Image courtesy of the Flint Institute of Arts.

workspace is close to home, so my work time can be spread out during the day as opposed to if I was an employee and expected to work set hours. My partner also works from home – in an office on another level of our home – so we see each other throughout the day. The fact that my schedule can be flexible if and when I need it to be is the important thing to remember. A flexible outlook is also important. Outside the studio, working conditions might not always be perfect, and a positive attitude can get stretched to the limit. I recently completed a small repair on a green jacket from the Augusta National Golf Course Museum. It was flown to Birmingham Airport, and I carried out the repair in the back of my SUV in the parking garage before it was flown straight back – it was an interesting experience. In more usual circumstances you will probably work with smaller museums or individuals that have not had a lot of experience with conservation. When on site, lack of preparation by others can be frustrating, but most problems can usually be worked out and provide good learning experiences for all involved. One concern I did have would be the quality of objects I would work on. Of course, I am located in the south so Civil War uniforms feature heavily (fortunately I enjoy working on them), but so do African American quilts and Civil Rights-related artefacts. Ultimately there was no need to worry, and the work has been varied, with many interesting and satisfying projects ranging from Imperial Russian uniforms to the earliest existing example of a United States Supreme Court robe.

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The client base In the beginning, my clients were local; both the Montgomery Museum of Art and Birmingham Museum of Art had projects for me, and very soon my client roster grew to include the Tennessee State Museum, who I worked with for many years in preparation for their move to a new museum in Nashville, and the New Orleans Museum of Art, where I spent many weeks on site conserving a suite of Antebellum upholstered parlour furniture. My ‘catchment’ area now runs from northern Michigan to Southern Florida, with some clients out west. The majority are institutional – art museums, historic houses and universities. I also work for the federal government, both for the National Park Service and the Department of Defense museums. Over the past couple of years, I have tried to limit the number of private clients with whom I work. Or to be more accurate, I have spent more time filtering the ones I think will be good to work with from those who might prove to be problematic. As Ewer (2010: 41) stated, ‘it is not about the textiles. We may wish it be so, but it is about the needs of the owner, stakeholder or client’. I do find that managing the expectations of individuals in terms of what conservation can achieve, along with the timeline for completion of work (that I can offer as a solo practitioner), takes up a disproportionate amount of time. In short, dealing with institutions generally involves less fuss, and it is much easier to define expectations and set boundaries. That said, it can be extremely rewarding to work with the right clients, and to that end, I have learned to say ‘no’ more often.

Conclusion A career in conservation is one of lifelong learning, and I think the same can definitely be said for running a business of any type. As the years go by, I continue to refine and develop both my skills as a conservator and as a proprietor. The latter definitely takes more effort. Every year around tax time I enjoy seeing memes on social media from the TV show Schitt’s Creek where Dan Levy’s character David Rose thinks his luxury bedding is a deductible expense, or Megan Stalter’s character Kayla in Hacks, who believed that ‘anything is deductible as long as you’re thinking about business’. I wish this was true, but sadly it is not! In hindsight there is not much that I think I would have done differently. The move to an underserved area was obviously key and instrumental in the success I now enjoy. I think it goes without saying that having a fairly outgoing and gregarious character definitely helps at the point of client interface to ensure they have a good experience. Over time this has also resulted in a healthy roster of return clients. Good time management and project management skills (both things that can be learned) are absolutely necessary to keep clients happy and both me and them sane. If the experience of the last couple of years has taught us anything, it is that nothing in life is certain. As we (hopefully) transition out of the pandemic period, it looks like a rocky financial scenario is forming ahead. It is not dissimilar to the situation that Ewer wrote about in her conclusion back in 2010; however, for now my business remains on a firm footing with projects lined up for the next 12 months, and for that I am very grateful.

Acknowledgments I would like to thank Amanda Holden for proofreading this case study and providing valuable insights and suggestions.

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Reference Ewer, P. (2010). Entrepreneurship and conservation. In F. Lennard & P. Ewer (Eds), Textile conservation: advances in practice (pp. 37–43). First edition. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann.

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 Occasionally Bisulca will do some analysis work for me, but I have to say in those instances it was ­definitely for my own interest rather than the clients’. 2 The house and studio were designed by Dan Fritt of Fifth Dimension Architecture and Interiors in ­Birmingham, Alabama. 3 About 60% of my projects are costume. Quilts tend to be the largest flat textiles I work on, with a very occasional carpet, storm or field flag.

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CHAPTER 2

Treatment ethics and decision-making

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OVERVIEW An ever-expanding range of treatments is available to textile conservators. How do we decide which treatments to employ in any given case? The ability to select the most appropriate treatment in a particular context is one of the key skills we develop as professional practitioners. Many factors influence the selection, and the final treatment is the outcome of a synthesis of physical, social and ethical factors. Physical factors have traditionally been the starting point for treatment choices; in the early years of conservation practice, an object’s materials, construction and condition were the key factors influencing the selection of one type of treatment over another. Of course these factors are still critical in understanding which treatments will be effective. More recently, materials research and the development of analytical techniques have only enhanced our understanding of the impact of environmental parameters and treatment choices on objects. As a single example, Smith et al. (2022) explored five different potential consolidants for the treatment of deteriorated black-dyed plant materials, specifically paru-dyed muka, or New Zealand flax, using a range of light-ageing and analytical techniques to make recommendations on their efficacy. More mundanely, the ever-present restrictions of resource limitations – in terms of time and funding – can play a role in decisions about the extent and type of treatments carried out.

Values-based conservation However, it has long been accepted that an object’s ownership and role also play a part in selecting an appropriate treatment. In 1993 Orlofsky and Trupin argued for a more conscious decision-making process, depending on the role of the object, while Eastop stated that ‘the role attributed to an artefact varies with context’ (1998: 43). An object may receive a different treatment depending on whether it is to be displayed, stored, used for research or returned to its original community context for re-use. Treatment may be influenced by display in a fine art museum compared with one focusing on social history. Guidess’ case study discusses how treatments at The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation are influenced by the way particular objects are used or studied. These choices have been increasingly considered in the context of what has been termed ‘values-based’ conservation. Sully (2015: 299–308) described different conservation approaches as ‘materials-based’, ‘values-based’ and ‘peoples-based’. He defined values-based conservation decisions as ‘premised on developing an understanding of cultural significance through physical examination, historical research, and community consultation’, whereas ‘[a] peoples-based approach differs in that it prioritizes the welfare of the community over material heritage’. The latter is illustrated in the case study by Keefe, Irvin and Urick which describes a ground-breaking project at the Rhode Island School of Design Museum where badly deteriorated, shattered silk garments from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were exhibited in their unconserved condition, to spark discussions about the role of conservation and deaccessioning. Deaccessioned garments were given to students to make use of in their creative practice.

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Values-based conservation takes place in the context of museum practice which puts people, rather than objects, at its heart. From the late 1980s, a ‘new museology’ aimed to involve visitors in a more interactive and engaging museum experience, involving community members in curatorial practice (Halpin, 1997). In line with this, Sully argued that: ‘The role of conservation professionals in the future is less likely to be as experts prescribing certain actions, and more as facilitators enabling people to engage with their cultural heritage’ (2015: 309). In many museums, the views of a range of stakeholders are now routinely sought when making conservation decisions. At Glasgow Museums for example, as part of long-standing practice, the redevelopment of the Burrell Collection in 2016–2022 was informed by the significant involvement of local groups who were consulted about what they wanted to see in the redisplayed museum (Hughes & de Roemer, 2020; Figure 2.0.1). Audience research was undertaken by Glasgow Museums’ visitor studies staff, during a temporary display of tapestries from the Burrell Collection. It revealed that: ‘The majority of respondents wish to view the tapestries unframed, noting accessibility and tradition as the main reasons’ (Treble, 2018). This clear visitor preference, in combination with factors of access, budget and exhibition design, influenced the ­decision on whether to display tapestries behind glass or on open display as part of the Burrell Renaissance Project. Decisions were made on a case-by-case basis, but access was ­prioritized wherever possible.1

Figure 2.0.1 A focus group member giving feedback on new displays at the Burrell Collection, using mock-ups of interpretation panels. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection.

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Evidence and information from objects But conservation is not just about treatment; it has been described as a process of investigation, preservation and interpretation (Eastop & Gill, 2001). Conservators can add significant value to the study and display of objects by contributing to their investigation and interpretation. The opportunities afforded to conservators for close observation and their highly developed observation skills enable them to make an important contribution to the understanding of objects’ construction, alteration, use and history, as Gentle’s case study demonstrates. Eaton’s case study also illustrates how the study of objects can provide information which cannot be retrieved from written sources alone. Archaeological textiles have commonly been seen as repositories of evidence; Peacock’s case study demonstrates the significance of information that can be retrieved through their close study. Such investigation is a form of conservation in itself – it may be combined with treatment, or the preservation of such detail may limit or preclude further treatment. The clothing worn by Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi at the time of their assassinations is owned by the Indira Gandhi Memorial Museum in New Delhi. Conservation undertaken by staff from Artlab Australia aimed to ‘select the best approach to preserve evidence of the shooting, including the stains and bullet holes’, with treatment limited to surface-cleaning and the provision of physical support without disguising the bullet holes and other damage: ‘the damage and staining is primary evidence of the assassinations’ (Phillips, 2016: 226).

Authenticity For the pioneers in textile conservation, the ‘authenticity’ of a textile was a fundamental concept. Flury-Lemberg removed later embroidery from an antependium depicting scenes of the Passion, to reveal the original thirteenth-century embroidery beneath. She felt that the restoration was less important than the work of art which it was concealing (1988: 128– 136). She aimed to recover the textile’s ‘true nature’ through this intervention. On the other hand, Jedrzejewska, writing in 1980, aimed rather to preserve an object’s authenticity by accepting that it had undergone changes; she wrote: ‘Old objects … are, first and above all, documents of the past… . They convey information about the history and development of mankind… . It is our ethical duty to preserve as much of this evidence as possible’ (2011: 102). She felt that both ‘primary and secondary pieces of evidence’ were important and should be preserved, i.e., both original features and those added later. Authenticity is a challenging term – how do we define what is authentic about an object? We are more likely now to accept the view that an object has a succession of authentic states over time. Attempting to recover the ‘authentic object’ often refers to the goal of regaining the ‘original’ state or of returning it to a previous stage of its history, perhaps by removing repairs or alterations. But the way a textile is interpreted and displayed may change over time, as Giuntini’s case study demonstrates. French explained how she would approach the task differently if she were now undertaking the conservation of a cope used to make an altar frontal, which she had treated 15 years earlier. She re-presented the object as a cope, in what she later called ‘an act of subjective interpretation’. She argued that the interpretation of the cope had been ‘fixed’ by its method of mounting, which was unlikely to be reversed and did not allow for future reinterpretation (French, 2009). It is wise to agree with Muñoz

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Viñas’ assertion that: ‘The only authentic state of an object is tautologically the one that it has now. Any attempt to take the object back to another presumed and favoured state is first and foremost a matter of choice’ (2002: 26). In illustration, Scaturro advocated the combination of materials and values-based approaches for the conservation of fashion: ‘In seeking a fashion object’s authentic moment, it is often necessary to go back to its first inception, when its freshness symbolized the epitome of the fashionable ideal’ (2017: 7). In the case of iconic objects, conservators have the added responsibility of negotiating an existing relationship between the public and the object; the ‘authentic’ object is deemed to be the one familiar from its appearance in image and film. Eastop and Morris’ case study illustrates how the overall presentation of Grace Kelly’s wedding dress was, unusually in this case, considered more important than the preservation of individual components.

Significance Discussion of authenticity has been partly overtaken by an emphasis on the concept of significance; this can be a very useful methodology for navigating the challenging decisionmaking process. The Australia International Council on Monuments and Sites’ (ICOMOS) Burra Charter of 1979 highlighted the concept of cultural significance in making decisions about the conservation of cultural heritage. The Collections Network Australia introduced Significance in 2001, as a means of giving value to collections across the country and helping to rationalize the allocation of precious resources. Its assessment process uses four primary criteria to identify an object’s value: ‘historic; artistic or aesthetic; scientific or research potential; social or spiritual’, modified by four comparative criteria (Russell & Winkworth, 2009). This approach has been widely adopted; statements of significance are used internationally as a driver of conservation decisions for historic properties and their contents as well as museum collections. MacLeod and Carr (2014) used significance and conservation assessments to determine treatment priorities for ecclesiastical textiles. Cotte’s case study illustrates the use of decision-making models to identify a point of significance to help determine treatment decisions for contemporary artworks. While other conservators may not use the term explicitly, it is clear that the concept of significance is now of widespread relevance in the design of treatments. Ellis described the conservation of an unusual baby quilt lined with gopher fur where the layers were separated to allow treatment despite the loss of original stitching and construction features (Figure 2.0.2). As she explained, ‘It is important to consider where the value of an object lies … is it in its construction and materials and how it was used?’ To the conservator, the curator and the family, more significantly, ‘the history of who owned it, who made it, its meaning, its beauty, its intrinsic value’ were enhanced by improving the quilt’s stability and appearance (Ellis, 2017: 159). Again, as discussed in relation to the concept of authenticity, significance is not fixed. Castaneda (2017) discussed the treatment of the 1920s soft toys which inspired the Winnie the Pooh stories by A.A. Milne, illustrated by Shepard. They were much repaired, both as well-loved toys, and later when they were toured around America by the publisher. The conservator established that ‘the toys’ significance was inextricably tied to Shepard’s drawings of them … . It was the drawings that achieved celebrity and hence the toys were now beholden to their famous likenesses. Therefore it was essential that they look like the drawings’ (Castaneda, 2017: 54). In practice, this meant removing later repairs but preserving those carried out when the toys were in use, not attempting to take them back to a ‘like new’ stage. 76

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Figure 2.0.2 The patchwork upper layer of a baby quilt with fur lining, after separating the two layers: above, before treatment; below, after treatment. Courtesy of Royal Alberta ­Museum. Image by Shirley Ellis.

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Intangible qualities A related influence on conservation decision-making is the consideration of the intangible aspects of objects, brought to the fore by the adoption of the UNESCO Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Heritage in 2003. Atkinson et al. explained how the conservation treatment of possum-skin cloaks at the Bunjilaka Aboriginal Cultural Centre at Melbourne Museum was strongly influenced by collaboration with the originating communities: ‘Aboriginal communities preserve or sustain culture by ensuring that the next generation has the knowledge, skills, and resources to practice culture’ (Atkinson et al., 2016: 60). Ishii and Shimura described how, in Japan, the skills involved in traditional restoration techniques are considered as important as the physical objects themselves and are similarly protected as part of the country’s cultural heritage. Textiles designated as cultural property are treated using traditional methods of repair passed down through generations, which ‘puts museum holdings in the category of “living culture”’ (Ishii & Shimura, 2017: 3). This methodology encompasses the tools and materials used for preservation, stimulating the development of silk materials specifically designed for conservation. Acknowledging the intangible value of objects adds weight to the necessity to consider the needs of different communities. Thompson presented a critique of an influential 1989 article by law professor Merryman which argued that decisions about cultural objects should be based on the core values of ‘preservation, truth and access’. Thompson demonstrated that, far from being universal values, these in fact ‘prioritise a western experience of art over the needs and rights of source countries, particularly indigenous cultures’ (2017: 306).

Conclusion Conservation once aimed to recover an object’s ‘true nature’; we now recognize that there is no such thing – at best, we can consciously aim to recover aspects of a previous stage of its existence. Concepts of authenticity, value and significance today play a much larger role in helping us to understand what matters about a particular object and hence how it should be treated. While authenticity can be a challenging term to employ, the concept of significance has been shown to have widespread value in helping us to understand what is important about a particular object and in driving conservation decision-making. In the 2020s such decisions are far more likely to be informed by collaboration and discussion with those to whom the objects have particular value and meaning. At the same time, a greater understanding of the importance of objects’ intangible properties leads to different forms of conservation intervention or even, on occasion, no intervention at all. Such varied and thoughtful responses to the requirements of both people and objects demonstrate a ­mature and continually evolving profession.

References Atkinson, H.L., Couzens, V., Darroch, G.G., Hamilton, S., Jones-Amin, H., Nicholson, M. & ­Reynolds, A. (2016). ‘Wrapped in country’. Conserving and representing possum-skin cloaks as in/tangible heritage. In M.M. Brooks & D.D. Eastop (Eds), Refashioning and redress. Conserving and displaying dress (pp. 49–64). Los Angeles: Getty Publications.

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Castaneda, A. (2017). Oh bother: the conservation of the Winnie-the-Pooh animals. In E. Shaeffer, J. Carlson, K. Eng-Wilmot, A. Getts, K. Kiefer & B. Morris (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2017, ­Chicago (pp. 51–64). Washington DC: AIC. Eastop, D. (1998). Decision making in conservation: determining the role of artefacts. In Á. ­Tímár-Balázsy & D. Eastop (Eds), International perspectives on textile conservation (pp. 43–46). London: Archetype. Eastop, D. & Gill, K. (2001). Upholstery conservation as preservation, investigation and interpretation. In K. Gill & D. Eastop (Eds), Upholstery conservation: principles and practice (pp. 1–9). Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Ellis, S. (2017). Deconstructed: restoring the intent and integrity of a rare kainai squirrel-lined baby quilt. In E. Shaeffer, J. Carlson, K. Eng-Wilmot, A. Getts, K. Kiefer & B. Morris (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2017, Chicago (pp. 149–160). Washington DC: AIC. Flury-Lemberg, M. (1988). Textile conservation and research. Bern: Abegg-Stiftung. French, A. (2009). A re-evaluation of the conservation of the Othery Cope. In A. Fairhurst (Ed.), Mind the gap! Structural and aesthetic options for the treatment of loss in textiles. Postprints, Icon TG forum, 2009 (pp. 32–40). London: Icon. Halpin, M.M. (1997). ‘Play it again, Sam’: reflections on a new museology. Museum International, 49(2), 52–56. Hughes, H.M. & de Roemer, S. (2020). The Burrell renaissance: unpicking a collection and its ­building. Studies in Conservation, 65(sup1), 154–159. Ishii, M. & Shimura, A. (2017). Developing fabrics made with traditional techniques for textile ­conservation within the cultural property preservation policy in Japan. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), ­Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2017, Copenhagen. Paris: ICOM. Jedrzejewska, H. (2011). Problems of ethics in the conservation of textiles. In M.M. Brooks & D.D. Eastop (Eds), Changing views of textile conservation (pp. 102–110). Los Angeles: GCI. MacLeod, I.D. & Carr, R.J. (2014). Determining treatment priorities for ecclesiastical textiles using significance and conservation assessments. Journal of Cultural Heritage, 15(6), 628–636. Muñoz Viñas, S. (2002). Contemporary theory of conservation. Reviews in Conservation, 3, 25–34. Orlofsky, P. & Trupin, D.L. (1993). The role of connoisseurship in determining the textile conservator’s treatment options. JAIC, 32(2), 109–118. Phillips, K. (2016). Conserving damage. Clothing worn by Indira Gandhi and Rajiv Gandhi at the time of their assassinations. In M.M. Brooks & D.D. Eastop (Eds), Refashioning and redress. ­Conserving and displaying dress (pp. 225–236). Los Angeles: Getty Publications. Russell, R. & Winkworth, K. (2009). Significance 2.0. A guide to assessing the significance of ­collections. Collections Council of Australia. Available from: https://www.arts.gov.au/sites/default/ files/documents/significance20.pdf Scaturro, S. (2017). A materials- and values-based approach to the conservation of fashion. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2017, Copenhagen. Paris: ICOM. Smith, C.A., Lowe, B.J., Swart, J., Fuentes-Cross, P., Mistral M. & Te Kanawa, R. (2022). Evaluating five consolidants for black-dyed Māori textile artefacts. Studies in Conservation, 67(5), 271–288. Sully, D. (2015). Conservation theory and practice. Materials, value and people in heritage ­conservation. In C. McCarthy (Ed.), The international handbooks of museum studies: museum practice. Hoboken NJ: John Wiley. Thompson, E. (2017). Which public? Whose interest? Rethinking Merryman’s public interest in ­cultural property. Art Antiquity and Law, XXII(4), 305–314. Treble, L. (2018). Tapestry concept testing. Burrell at Kelvingrove: tapestries. Unpublished report, Glasgow Museums.

Note 1 Email from Tarn Brown, Glasgow Museums, 18 April 2023.

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2.1 TO REVEAL AND NOT OBSCURE* Balancing conservation and visual access Gretchen Guidess

Introduction The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, located in the Tidewater region of Virginia, USA, was ­established in 1926 when the Reverend Dr W.A.R. Goodwin persuaded John D. Rockefeller Jr to provide the financial support to purchase and restore structures that date to the eighteenth century in the historic city of Williamsburg, Virginia. Today the Historic Area of the Foundation encompasses over 300 acres and includes 89 eighteenth-century buildings and 300 reconstructed structures that comprise the restored colonial capital. It is peopled by tradespeople, townspeople and Nation Builders in ­eighteenth-century attire. In addition to the Historic Area, the Foundation has grown to include a modern museum building and an 80,000 square foot purpose-built collections and conservation facility. The Foundation’s educational mission, ‘that the future may learn from the past’, is fulfilled in part by the restoration, preservation and maintenance of the Historic Area and collections (Figure 2.1.1). The collections of The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation play a vital role in serving its educational mission. Therefore, preventive conservation practice plays a critical role in its long-term preservation. This topic is the focus of Silence’s case study in Chapter 5. The costume and textile collection, which spans over five centuries and numbers over 8,700 pieces, is displayed in regularly changing exhibitions in one of three dedicated textile galleries in the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum and the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum. When selected for exhibition, light-sensitive materials are monitored for light-induced change to record the current effects of display practice and inform future use. Peterson-Grace describes these efforts within the longer history of the textile collection in her case study in Chapter 6.

Using the textile collection The Foundation’s collections are routinely examined by Foundation staff and external scholars. Annually there are between 180 and 240 queries and research visits. Researchers visit the collection for inspiration, for inquiries about historical practices and craft, and even to inform costume styling for living historians and historic stage productions. This collection is mined by Foundation staff, including curators, historic tradespeople, product designers and the Department of DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-1180

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Figure 2.1.1 Two Nation Builders in the Historic Area, Virginia Governor Patrick Henry, portrayed by ­Actor Interpreter Richard Schumann, and Oconostota, portrayed by American Indian Interpreter Kody Grant, in front of the Governor’s Palace, 24 August 2022.  Oconostota was a visitor to Williamsburg throughout the eighteenth century. In 1777 he was part of a Cherokee Delegation that came to discuss future relations between his nation and the newly free Commonwealth of Virginia. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

Historical Clothing and Dress team, who create wardrobes for the costumed historic interpreters in the Foundation’s Historic Area. The collection is also available to and regularly accessed by visiting scholars and students. This frequent access to the collections for rigorous scholarship informs all preservation decisions, from methods of storage to treatment intervention. Textile conservation staff work closely with these groups of dedicated stakeholders to devise conservation treatments that serve the long-term preservation goals of collections care while providing the visual access required for the study and deeper understanding of the collection. This approach was influenced by such authors as Clavir, Johnson et al. and Wharton, who wrote of the value of consultation and engagement with community and expert stakeholders (Clavir, 1996: 106; Johnson et al., 2005: 204; Wharton, 2008: 159). Consultation led to immediate lessons. After observing and discussing what scholars studied within the collection, and what common materials and practices were used to stabilize vulnerable items, it was a surprise to learn that when conservators employed even the most sheer conservation materials to stabilize vulnerable areas, their work still obscured critical detail and did not permit some scholars the necessary level of visual access. In fact, for the historic trades, particularly the tailors, obvious damage and areas of loss act as windows into the interlayers of garments, providing the richest harvest of information. Covering, closing and overlaying these areas to safeguard them are often, for the conservator, the locations where intervention will begin. However, the 81

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textile conservation lab at the Foundation has started planning for visual access at treatment development. Considering how this type of access may be maintained or made available as a goal permits the conservation lab to balance and mediate the sometimes competing challenges of complete visual access and protecting damaged areas. The collection continues to grow with regular additions through gift, transfer, purchase or bequest. Potential additions to the collection are evaluated collaboratively by curators and conservators so that when objects are recommended, a full understanding of their preservation needs are understood before their acquisition. Upon acquisition, objects are documented as thoroughly as possible through photography and examination reports, condition diagrams and construction descriptions. This documentation attempts to capture the ‘as found’ state of the textile or garment upon its entrance into the collection. Stability of the item is assessed to determine whether it is sufficiently sturdy to be placed in storage or if special storage or support is needed. An additional audit is conducted to determine what treatment, support or mount is needed if the item were selected for exhibition display. Treatment intervention is generally not performed unless the object is not stable in storage or, in the case of garments, if it cannot be quick mounted for documentation photography without risk of additional damage. The conservation lab typically practises minimal intervention in order to support the extensive use of the collection as a primary source of historical information. The goal to avoid obscuring or altering evidence is especially important when aspects of historical craft practice can inform work done by the needle trades as they make adaptations and reproductions. Documentation is a hallmark of the conservation field and underpins ethical approach and best practices (AIC, 1994). Although numerous methods have been developed that capture descriptive and visual observations, over time the research queries and questions change and evolve. Data is plentiful and expansive, but it has proven not to capture all details for every query for all time. Conservation and documentation practices are continually reassessed to accommodate future investigation, and it is recognized that the thoroughness of documentation may not be enough and may even omit critical details. For example, the historical clothing and dress team may draft a pattern and note some construction details to replicate or reproduce the outward silhouette of a garment for the numerous costumed historic interpreters working in the Historic Area. However, this is often not sufficient for the Foundation’s historic tradespeople active in resurrecting both construction methods and eighteenth-century trade and craft practice. This level of detail comes through the close study of both material attributes and stitch-by-stitch comparison. The conservation lab looks to devise new ways to approach the collection when treatment is deemed necessary and to consider potential ways that future researchers can be served.

Considering textile storage solutions for study The storage practices employed at the Foundation build upon an existing tradition of approaches that were first implemented by the curatorial staff. While planning for the construction of a new, custom-built textile storage space during the 1990s, curatorial staff considered who accessed the collection and how the textiles were studied. Then and now, the collection was frequently mined for design inspiration by our product design colleagues. To facilitate this, curatorial staff saw the benefit of viewing many items in a relatively short amount of time while minimizing or avoiding direct handling. In response, they implemented storage techniques (Figure 2.1.2) that today are readily recognizable and used in many textile collections. Their solution maintains visibility of the flat textiles in the collection. Large flat household textiles and quilts are stored on large trays that slot into storage racks. The trays have welded anodized aluminium frames with tensioned 400 denier Dacron® polyester 82

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Figure 2.1.2 Rolled textile storage drawers for small flat textile documents are shown on the left side of the aisle, while large storage trays for quilts and household textiles are shown on the right. Image by Jason Copes, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

bottoms. Quilts are stored in groupings of approximately three to four laid flat side by side and are fully supported on the trays. The largest pieces may require one to two vertical padded folds with the show side of the object facing out so that portions of their design surfaces are readily seen. Smaller textile fragments, primarily consisting of ‘textile documents’ (exemplars of woven structures or motifs that show a full design repeat), are rolled onto acid-free tubes for support and secured with twill tape ties at each end of the tube. Metal rods are threaded through each acid-free tube and suspended from an open-sided drawer that can be pulled in and out of the storage unit. Instead of protecting each piece at the object level with a Mylar® (transparent polyester film) or tissue wrap to block dust, debris or excessive light, the storage unit openings are covered with tensioned fabric to serve this function. These solutions are still as useful today as when they were implemented. No direct intervention is needed at the object level while these methods provide quick and ready access to this collection. Building on this body of practice, the textile conservation lab has implemented other noninterventive, preventive storage solutions. One such example is a gown dated 1785–1795 that was acquired in 2019 (CWF 2019–61, A-O).1 The gown was probably worn in neighbouring Surry County, Virginia during the eighteenth century and descended in a Virginia family. It was documented and worn by various generations as late as the 1970s, but when it arrived and was accessioned into the Foundation’s collection, it consisted of 15 separate components: a mostly intact half gown that was cut vertically down its centre and 14 unpicked pieces that compose most of 83

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the gown’s other half. The gown is made from a cream-coloured striped silk with brocaded floral sprigs. Many of the component pieces have markings in blue pen and felt tip marker. There are dark brown stains on at least four areas that affect two bodice pieces and one skirt panel. The stains have stiffened, leaving these areas fragile and vulnerable to splits or loss. The 101.6mm facing of lightweight plain-weave silk used to line the interior of the gown’s hem is compromised with numerous horizontal slits. Extensive consultation with the milliner’s historic trade shop and the curator of textiles and costume determined that an appropriate storage solution would support and prevent dissociation of the components. The milliners noted that most of the interior construction of eighteenth-century gowns is largely discerned by examining the interior of the garment. However, this unusual example documents aspects of the gown’s bodice construction that would be obstructed by interior linings that are layered and seamed together during the making of the gown. The current state of the gown provides the unique opportunity to compare a fully assembled half and the disassembled, individual parts that were cut and seamed to make a gown. After learning how the gown might be approached and studied by current and future scholars, an intern constructed a custom-made box with tray inserts (Figure 2.1.3) to protect and keep the numerous pieces together while minimizing direct handing. Included with the storage housing is a finding aid for the individual parts and a map showing how the individual trays are layered into the box.

Considering textile mounts and maintaining scholar access When textiles require additional support for display or are judged to need an overall lining, these interventions are conceived with continued visual access in mind. Many of the quilts in the collection have received full linings made of plain-weave cotton fabric to help protect vulnerable components and provide support while on display. When full linings will cover inscriptions, quilting patterns and other construction features, they are constructed with viewing windows that still permit access and study of these features. A similar approach is brought to needlework samplers that can benefit from a padded, rigid support. The Foundation’s collection of schoolgirl art includes a variety of forms, including samplers made in diverse geographic regions with examples from several known needlework schools. Introducing a rigid support to a sampler is considered when they do not retain their original mounting or arrive unframed or in frames that are not period appropriate. Common condition issues seen in the collection are fragile grounds with structural losses and creases from pre-acquisition folded storage. Many creases persist even after humidification, retaining the ‘memory’ of the former fold. Conventional supports such as fabric-covered padded boards do not permit access to the back, so a book mount was developed after consulting with the curator. Its design and construction are shown in Figure 2.1.4. The curator, representing the interests of scholars and informed through steering decades of research inquiries, was able to provide valuable insight into what aspects are critical for the close study of this part of the collection. Goals for the work were to protect the structure and design elements of the samplers and reduce overall distortion without repeated treatment. Providing good access to the back of the samplers allows a close study of the stitching techniques, a view of the unshifted colours of the silk embroidery threads and the ability to colour match materials for replication or reproduction. Additional considerations were to ease of transition from storage/ study to display by devising a mount that could easily function in the gallery. The solution employs a window mat laid over a full support for the mounted sampler. The window mat is made of archival blue board and is padded with a thin layer of polyester batting

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Figure 2.1.3 Overview showing trays and storage box housing a partially disassembled eighteenth-century gown. The storage components were made using archival blue board. The trays have Volara® (a closed-cell foam) bumpers. Image by Jason Copes, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

covered with cotton fabric colour-matched to the edges of the sampler. A layer of tensioned, ­colour-matched bobbinet covers the opening of the window. The sampler is stitch mounted over the window mat and bobbinet, receiving a full and even support. The window mat is whipstitched along one edge, like a book, to a full bottom support that carries a raised insert that fits the window and supports the tensioned bobbinet that spans the window. The raised insert is made of archival

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Figure 2.1.4 Mounted sampler by Mary Wilson (CWF 1994-116)2 showing the eight component parts of a hinged book mount. The sampler (1) is stitch mounted onto tensioned bobbinet (2) that is sewn to the top of a padded window support (3). The back of the padded window support is finished with dyed archival paper (4) and is whipstitched along one side (5) to the bottom support (6). An internal support (7), adhered to the bottom support, fits into the window to provide support to the bobbinet and mounted sampler. The opening, opposite the stitched hinge, is held together with magnets (8). Design and implementation by J. Peterson-Grace. Image by Jason Copes, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

blue board layered with polyester batting and covered with plain-weave cotton fabric. The hinged mount is held closed using rare earth magnets. The hinged mount support permits scholars to lift the supported sampler and view its underside through the bobbinet to determine stitching methods and degree of finishing that can only be seen on the reverse of samplers. In some cases, comparing the underside with the front reveals how much colour change has occurred due to light exposure. The hinged mount is sized slightly larger than the sampler to minimize direct handling, and the fabric cover is colour-matched to the ground of the sampler to minimize its visual impact while on display. Additional preservation benefits include mitigating repeated humidification treatment to minimize the reappearance of former folds and creases and providing a method to anchor fills to disguise losses to the mount instead of to the sampler. It provides protection of sometimes friable design yarns while providing a safer method to turn over and reveal much of the back of the sampler. This solution has been favourably reviewed by scholars who reported that even highresolution images of a sampler’s back did not provide them with the immediacy they sought when studying the original. Through adaptation, the desirable preservation aspects of a stitch mount were modified and adapted to still allow for direct visual access. 86

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Textile treatment approaches to garments that are extant documents The garments in the collection are primary sources for researchers who study their component parts, materials, construction, embellishment and timeline of changing design. This research can potentially illuminate historic places, people and events. Garments often require more treatment intervention than flat textiles before they are stable enough for display. This segment of the collection is unique in that both the form and function of the objects need to be maintained, especially if historic garments are dressed for display and are secured using original fasteners. Treatments seek to safeguard these features; however, the type and location of treatment interventions can limit, or obscure, visual access used by scholars. Of deep frustration are previous repairs with a decidedly restoration approach. Most of the garments collected by the Foundation during the first half of the twentieth century were sent to a restoration studio for substantial stabilization upon acquisition. This restoration work was highly invasive, often involving the removal and replacement of original linings as well as trimming or removing edges of original textile components. In addition, the restoration work included deconstruction of garments for cleaning and repair, extensive darning and liberal replacement of buttons and embellishments. While such interventions have directly impacted the value of these garments as historical documents, they have also resulted in robust objects that are better able to withstand display. These garments are stable to mount, but the replacement linings ‘lock out’ or block access to the layers in between. Surprisingly, after consultation with those who study the collection, it was learned that the sheer, semi-transparent, lightweight fabrics conservators most rely on such as silk crepeline and nylon bobbinet sometimes confuse precise stitch counts and fabric finishes if applied universally to the interior of a garment. This has led to numerous conversations and a case-by-case approach to lining treatments. Sometimes ‘views’ need to be reopened in previously restored garments to create access. This is especially true for garments that have received full restoration linings. When these items are a focus for study, conservators have reversed stitching to strategic areas of the lining to provide access. The replacement linings are not wholly removed so as to avoid compromising the protection they afford. This underscores the critical importance of reversibility and the potential for future retreatment in cases where interventions fail or become problematic. Although written and photographic documentation for these earliest restorations is vague and sparse, some aspects of past treatments may be revisited and reimagined to provide greater access. Recently the historic trade tailors re-examined a red wool cloak (CWF 1989-402) that dates to 1775–1810.3 The cloak has a gathered hood and is trimmed with wool shag edging and a red silk lining with silk cording and silk-covered button closures. It entered the collection with a sheer voile overlay stitched along the interior proper right front of the garment. Until the re-examination, it was assumed the overlay protected a fragmented silk fabric lining. Conservators clipped and removed a small number of stitches to release a portion of the restoration overlay, revealing a critical construction detail that had been obscured. The protected area was not the remnants of a silk fabric lining but was instead an intact wide silk ribbon used to trim the interior of the cloak’s opening. The small visual window led to an immediate and better understanding of available materials and how they were employed in the construction of the cloak. The most difficult challenge to negotiate in the collection is eighteenth- and nineteenth-century menswear that requires substantial treatment intervention. These garments often possess the most intricate construction. Multiple layers and interlayers with accompanying stitching were used to create the overall shape and desired silhouette. Although women over the same period achieved their own striking silhouettes, this was largely through many successive, but individual, garments 87

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and underpinnings. For menswear, the layers between the lining and the outside garment are critical for studying construction, determining process and revealing historic techniques. For this reason, heavily deteriorated linings and outsized losses furnish the most information. However, this type of damage renders the garment vulnerable and unstable for display mounting. Discussion with members of the historic trades, especially the tailors, has been illuminating. This experience underscores for the conservation lab how important it is to consider a range of practices that do not impinge on the study of these important extant examples that document historic practices and constructions. Localized stabilization is considered over full linings especially when a full lining will wholly cover or potentially obscure construction details. If a more substantial lining is needed, then passive attachment techniques are considered so that protection and access are maintained. For example, a temporary lining might be applied to the arm of a display form instead of to the garment sleeve.

Conclusions Through consultations with those who study the collection, the conservation staff have sought to engineer methods that still permit direct access without obscuring critical construction and material details. The lab’s practices continue to evolve as the use of the collection by a wide range of stakeholders is considered. To avoid pro forma intervention, the lab has reviewed and re-evaluated past established practices to be certain the techniques and approaches that were implemented still meet desired goals. To document this, treatment reports include a section to record intended goals and rationale. The rationale for some interventions is now prioritized differently, leading to past practices being reimagined or discontinued. The conversation continues. It is a complex but important challenge to safeguard the collection through both passive and interventive techniques while maintaining adequate visual access. As the Foundation’s educational mission continues with presenting expanded stories told of a shared history to today’s visitors, the collection continues to be an important repository of historic material sources for informing these stories. The continued stewardship of collections, with a mindful approach to how they are accessed and studied, positions these collections to be a continued resource. Their use, ever evolving, continues to support the institutional mission even as the scope is expanded and reframed.

Acknowledgements The author wishes to thank the current curators Kim Ivey and Neal Hurst as well as curator emerita Linda Baumgarten, who have and continue to assemble and steward an amazing collection. Thank you to former conservator Loreen Finkelstein, whose past work, and that of numerous technicians and volunteers, implemented some of the practices described in this study that were continued and adapted. Thank you to Nhat Q. Nguyen for conceiving of and building the storage housing for the Virginia gown and Jacquelyn Peterson-Grace for creating a sampler mount that seems to be most things for nearly everyone! Thanks to Sara Ludueña for her improvement of the manuscript. Thanks to the colleagues in the former Costume Design Center and the Historic Trades, especially to Mark Hutter and the tailor shop for providing valuable insight into their investigations. Thank you to Patricia Silence for her encouragement and leadership. This case study is indebted to previous authors who have published on consulting and collaborating with diverse groups who are vested in the preservation of cultural property. The papers listed as References were particularly influential. 88

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References AIC (1994). Code of ethics and guidelines for practice. Available from: https://www.culturalheritage.org/ about-conservation/code-of-ethics Clavir, M. (1996). Reflections on changes in museums and the conservation of collections from Indigenous peoples. JAIC, 35(2), 99–107. Johnson, J.S., Heald, S., McHugh, K., Brown, E. & Kaminitz, M. (2005). Practical aspects of consultation with communities. JAIC, 44(3), 203–215. Wharton, G. (2008). Dynamics of participatory conservation: the Kamehameha I sculpture project. JAIC, 47(3), 159–173.

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 For additional catalogue information, see The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation’s online catalogue. Available from: https://emuseum.history.org/objects/105216/disassembled-gown?ctx=85ec2bb963928a7 ad2749421563b8c9a5ddcb982&idx=0 2 For additional catalogue information, see The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation’s online catalogue. Available from: https://emuseum.history.org/objects/2865/sampler-by-mary-wilson?ctx=63f7d104eb15c 06a7a49d43beffee5b0801fd33f&idx=1 3 For additional catalogue information, see The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation’s online catalogue. Available from: https://emuseum.history.org/objects/32060/cloak?ctx=6abb18bed0aade340c14b3ef29f1 915854b22fa5&idx=0

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2.2 INHERENT VICE, OR* How I learned to stop worrying and love shattered silk Anna Rose Keefe, Kate Irvin, Jessica Urick

Introduction Fashion and textile collections are deeply affected by inherent vice, consisting of fragile objects never meant to last indefinitely. Likewise, museum storage often suffers from inherent faults rooted in biased ideologies. With these overlapping complexities in mind, conservation and curatorial staff from the Rhode Island School of Design Museum organized an interdisciplinary, year-long project entitled Inherent Vice, encompassing gallery exhibitions, coursework, and artistic collaborations designed to engage students and the public with the nuances of textile deterioration. The resulting project is a case study of how conservators leveraged preservation work, often isolated behind closed doors, to encourage collaborative engagement. The success of this project relied on multiple factors: willingness to collaborate without a predefined end goal, a focus on non-linear and abstract outcomes, and comfort with a fluid concept of what a conservator’s role is and should be. Our collaborative work highlighted how teaching about conservation in non-­traditional arenas can build relationships and enrich creative practice beyond the walls of a museum. It allowed us to explore how innovative approaches to deterioration – and accepting that things fall apart in the first place – can be a generative, ethical part of textile conservation practice.

Project background The RISD Museum resides within the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), a private art and design college in Providence, Rhode Island. One of the largest college museums in the United States, it serves the RISD community and the public. The museum’s Costume and Textiles (C&T) department houses over 30,000 items from 1500 BCE to the present, including pieces from geographic areas and cultures worldwide (Hay, 1988). Departmental staff includes two curators, two conservators, and an annual cohort of five to ten student assistants, postgraduate fellows, and interns. The C&T department enjoys a longstanding and deeply engaged relationship with the college, particularly the Textiles and Apparel Design departments. DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-12

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The role of conservation at RISD has expanded over recent years. The museum’s first full-time conservator, specializing in sculpture, joined the staff in 2007; preservation-focused positions now encompass objects, works on paper, and textiles. Students interested in conservation may apply for work-study and fellowships, take a course in preservation and sustainability for artists, or meet with conservators during office hours and class visits to discuss materials, techniques, and preservation. The museum’s place within a forward-thinking design school carries an expectation that staff, including conservators, will be experimental and engage with students eager to interrogate museum work. Nevertheless, the role of conservation at RISD has struggled against stereotypes surrounding the field, where preservation may be seen as living ‘behind the scenes’. This framework presents preservation as an apolitical space where work is always methodical, precise, and exempt from critical reflection (Fifield, 2020). Historically, when conservators have been invited to classes or public programmes, they are often asked to focus on linear problem-solving narratives such as delaying the ageing process or successfully restoring former glory. It requires effort to advocate for conservation as a site where creative, dynamic work can happen. After a pandemic-imposed halt to the museum’s exhibition schedule mandated time to pause and reflect, we discussed ways to make collections work transparent and accessible. It felt imperative to bring people into ‘behind the scenes’ work without presenting preservation as a single, objective truth. Likewise, we felt strongly that teaching about conservation has far-reaching pedagogical value beyond the literal act of caring for material things. An otherwise routine assessment of deteriorated Gilded Age garments in the collection, with an eye towards deaccessioning, provided an ideal jumping-off point – a way to turn a standard process into a collaborative, creative investigation of museums, collections care, and textile preservation.

Planning process In the summer of 2021, C&T staff began a holistic curatorial and conservation survey of hundreds of late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century garments in the collection, exploring ways to alleviate storage overcrowding. The survey revealed 31 badly deteriorated garments representing inherent vice in an extreme state, primarily due to shattered weighted silk. None of the garments possessed unique features not found elsewhere in the collection. In conservation, ‘inherent vice’ refers to: the tendency in an object or material to deteriorate or self-destruct because of its intrinsic ‘internal characteristics,’ including weak construction, ‘poor quality or unstable materials,’ and ‘incompatibility of different materials within an object’ (Morgan, 2014). Textile collections often represent a full spectrum of inherent vice, ranging from unstable dyes and deleterious manufacturing processes to the physical strain of heavy embellishment (Scaturro & Petersen, 2014). Weighted silk is one typical example of inherent vice in textiles, associated with the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries (Figure 2.2.1). A manufacturing process that introduced metallic salts to replace the weight lost by degumming silk fibres, weighting causes irreversible deterioration of silk fabrics faster than untreated counterparts (Hacke, 2008; Gilcrease, 2018). While untreated silk may survive, with care, for centuries, weighted silk is particularly susceptible to UV radiation damage and may shatter to shreds within decades (Becker et al., 1995; Garside et al., 2010). The visible deterioration caused by inherent vice foregrounds many of the existential issues faced by preservation practitioners, especially those navigating the relative ephemerality of 91

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Figure 2.2.1 Shattering characteristic of nineteenth-century weighted silk on the train of an 1880s evening dress from the RISD Museum collection. Courtesy of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI.

garments. Garments are made to be worn, used, danced in, sweated in, and sometimes altered and reused; they will not last forever and, in many cases, were never created with the intention of enduring indefinitely. With its expedited timeline, inherent vice forces us to confront the reality that nothing will last forever, even with good care. The 31 inherent-vice-addled garments existed at an ideological and logistical crossroads: they could remain in storage, too fragile to teach with or exhibit; they could become a resource vacuum, requiring years of conservation treatment; or they could be deaccessioned, too damaged for an institutional transfer, quietly shuffled off to auction, or marked for disposal. Each of these traditional avenues felt stifling. Denying the physical realities of these garments, or pouring resources into their conservation at the expense of other parts of the collection, felt like an exercise in hubris; likewise, silently deaccessioning seemed to convey that our inability or unwillingness to preserve them demanded secrecy, even shame. But what if these garments could have a new life beyond traditional museum futures? We began brainstorming through a lens of embracing brokenness and envisaging new possibilities.

Community conversations As internal discussions gained momentum, an idea emerged: deaccessioning the damaged garments and transferring them to students for creative use. We hoped to assert publicly that deaccessioning is a healthy, positive part of maintaining a museum collection. Most importantly, we aimed to explore 92

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how a creative approach to removing something from a museum collection – rather than letting it quietly deteriorate in storage – could coexist alongside more traditional conservation ethics. We sought new collaborators and perspectives to help shape the fledgling project, hosting openinvitation conversations with the RISD community in the fall of 2021. Attendees included museum staff, RISD faculty, and undergraduate and graduate students. C&T staff shared initial ideas to guide the discussion, but conversations flowed freely without a set agenda. We wanted to gauge community interest in conservation-related topics and hoped that open-ended meet-ups would encourage new collaborators to join the project, spin off their own ideas, or make connections for future work. We felt encouraged that people outside our department were interested in discussing textile conservation theory and nuances, and several prominent themes arose from group discussions. Attendees pushed back against preservation stereotypes, namely that decay and destruction are inherently bad and that placing something in suspended animation within museum storage is fundamentally good. The group discussed the colonial roots of museum collections and the value assigned to European and American fashion in museums. Moreover, students and faculty reiterated their desire to work with, within, and against the museum, expressing frustration that many traditional access points felt stifling or regimented. Despite our stated commitment to openness, many expressed sentiments previously shared by students, that meaningful access to the museum was closed off and layered with bureaucracy (risdARC, 2020). The discussion groups provided a space for staff, students, and faculty to connect as collaborators, united by an interest in thinking critically about textiles and conservation. We emerged from these discussions with students interested in learning more and faculty interested in incorporating the project into coursework. It felt refreshing to think expansively and creatively with other people as a counterpoint to the more isolating parts of museum work.

Inherent Vice exhibition and Wintersession course Buoyed by initial conversations and a growing community, we began the project in two parts: an exhibition of deteriorating dresses entitled Inherent Vice and a RISD Wintersession course exploring topics from our group conversations. At the same time, we worked through the formal process of deaccessioning the 31 garments, including an internal curatorial and conservation assessment, external curatorial review and appraisal, and presentation to the museum’s advisory Fine Arts Committee and Board of Governors for approval. In addition to receiving support for deaccessioning the garments, staff ultimately received approval to transfer deaccessioned garments to students for creative use in the spring semester. The initial display of garments in the museum’s Donghia Costume and Textiles Gallery was unlike previous displays of historic fashion at RISD (Figure 2.2.2). Of the 31 garments identified for deaccession, eight deteriorated garments were displayed with labels discussing their material condition and social context. Conservators constructed cut-away Fosshape® forms to further the impression of ‘ghostliness’ or the absence of a specific human body. While the garments appeared straightforwardly glamorous from a distance, closer observation revealed their deterioration. For conservators accustomed to installing physically stable garments in straightforward configurations, mounting garments with broken seams and gaping tears – honouring the current state of each garment – provided a satisfying challenge. The exhibition was intended to be a conversation starter. It welcomed the public into a complicated part of conservation that lacks a clear answer or scientific solution. The conspicuous deterioration of the garments raised visible, open-ended questions about the role museums – and conservators – should play as items in storage age and fall apart. Additionally, showcasing 93

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Figure 2.2.2  Inherent Vice. Gallery display at the RISD Museum in Providence, RI. January–June 2022.  Courtesy of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI.

deaccessioning as a concept in a public exhibition allowed staff to discuss work that is typically only visible to a handful of museum employees. It felt essential to demonstrate that this kind of museum work exists and that it always entails deep and fundamental nuance. Conservation can involve repairing damage and also advocating for the value of letting something fall apart. It can be thorny without clear answers, and the months of detailed paperwork required for ethical deaccessioning can be the same months used for creative, messy brainstorming. This focus on nuance formed the basis of a Wintersession class co-taught by Irvin, Keefe, Urick, and Becci Davis. Davis, an artist and educator whose work interrogates monuments and archives, brought their experience to developing a well-rounded syllabus – as well as a perspective from outside the walls of the museum (Davis, 2021). After attending our group conversations, Associate Professor Mary Anne Friel offered to house this course within the Textiles department. The course, entitled ‘Inherent Vice: Experimental Research Studio’, drew undergraduates from across disciplines interested in thinking critically about museums and conservation. It considered the museum’s Costume and Textiles collection through the lens of Toni Morrison’s Site of Memory (1995), viewing the Museum as a complex site with many inherent strengths and flaws, and with equal potential for transformation and imagination. With broad course topics, students received a crash course in preservation practices and ethics as a contextual springboard for their own interrogation. Class topics included: the history and evolution of costume collecting; conservation ethics and ideas of care; and ways that artists have worked within museums and archives. Coursework encompassed readings, seminar discussions, creative writing prompts, and visits with community artists whose work presents models for preservation. A visit to Providence’s Wedding Cake House, a dilapidated mansion and former dress 94

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atelier creatively restored by the Dirt Palace Collective, demonstrated how one community group revived a historic space as a home for artist residencies (Dirt Palace, 2018). A discussion with the activist collective Haus of Glitter – who live, create, and preserve in the former house of Esek Hopkins, the commander of the Rhode Island-based slave ship Sally – engaged students with the generative potential of traumatic or seemingly static histories (The Haus of Glitter, 2022). Each week, students shared a slide collage that represented their evolving thoughts on the class’s subject matter. Group discussions and personal reflections held the same amount of space as presentations of textile history and conservation theory. Though the 31 garments were not yet deaccessioned, students could spend as much time as they wanted with the pieces. Initially, many approached the dresses with reverence; ‘we can really touch this?’ was a common refrain. However, as students became comfortable, their perspectives shifted in complex ways. One thing that emerged from class discussions was a profound sadness that garments in textile storage are disembodied, removed from their initial function as clothing. Students projected empathic narratives onto crumbling garments, imagining ‘what it would feel like to wait forever to be used, to feel like your whole life has been a waste, has been just waiting at the hand of curators and owners and donors. I would feel so pathetic and angry and bitter’ (Grigorieff, 2022). As artists emotionally invested in their creations, students wanted to humanize the garments and connect with original users and makers. Under Davis’ guidance, the students designed gallery interventions for their final projects, focusing on facets of the course that resonated with their own creative practice. These projects included an artist book made from family heirlooms, designed to be handled and appreciated; an autopsy form for garments, inspired by the language of condition reporting; and a dress made from fabric scraps and plant materials that will be planted in the RISD dye garden, returning to the earth to be reborn. The students worked with museum staff to install their interventions in the gallery alongside the eight deteriorating garments from the collection.

Spring semester course and Inherent Vice: Hidden Narratives Lisa Z. Morgan, Associate Professor and head of RISD’s Apparel Design department, led a subsequent spring semester class. Morgan’s artistic practice interprets gender, sexuality, and women’s history; she attended initial community conversations and developed a course as part of the project. Conceived as a studio for students to collaborate cross-departmentally, the spring class shared many of the same goals as the Wintersession course, including discussion of preservation and the life of garments, a focus on the colonial and imperialist origins of museums and the fashion system, and artistic engagement with history and archives. In this class, however, the garments had been officially deaccessioned, transferred to the Apparel department, and made physically available for creative reuse. In ‘Inherent Vice: Experimental Research Studio (Part Two)’, Morgan and the students brainstormed alternative futures for the garments through discussion and hands-on experimentation. The dresses passed through multiple hands and took new forms as students used deaccessioned material in their photography, videography, apparel, textiles, bookmaking, and performance practices. For example, one student scanned and documented a 1913 silk walking suit to record its original form. A second student received and reworked the tattered underdress into a new garment, which they wore to explore Victorian tensions about the body in a series of photographs. A third student turned the jacket’s remains into a lampshade, transforming a once-untouchable museum artefact into mundane domestic furnishing. Lastly, the remaining fragments that fell off the garments during earlier stages were turned into paper, becoming a blank canvas for something new (Figure 2.2.3). 95

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Figure 2.2.3 Student work showing the progression of a deaccessioned walking suit throughout ‘Inherent Vice: Experimental Research Studio (Part Two)’, 2022: work by: upper left, Silvija Meixner; upper right, Christopher Pak; lower left, Emma Naughton; lower right, Madi Hough. Courtesy of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI.

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Textiles department professors carried this project into five classes across the curriculum. ­ eventy-seven students visited storage to meet with C&T staff and spend time with the deaccesS sioned garments, leading to projects that interrogated the nuances of preservation while exploring narratives missing from the museum’s collection. These included a discharged screen-print depicting the victims of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory in gold foil as a way of asserting the value of their lives, and an immersion-dyed silkscreen called Greater Empires Have Fallen, which remixed nineteenth-century luxury goods with contemporary representations of police brutality, drawing attention to the state violence that upholds imperialist structures. Though immediately drawn in by the artistry and imagined luxury of Gilded Age garments, students developed more complex relationships with deaccessioned material as the semester progressed. Students were initially aware of their hesitancy to touch or question museum objects, observing ‘even still, these garments hold power over us; there is an unshakeable sense of status associated with museum pieces’ (Inherent Vice: Experimental Research Studio, 2022). This allure faded during the course as students worked in storage and explored the dusty, fragrant realities of inherent vice. As they became more comfortable engaging with deaccessioned materials, they also became more comfortable offering critiques of the museum. The final series of projects represented a wide variety of media, including original garments, reworked apparel, home furnishings, artists’ books, textile samples, sculptural works, dolls, videos, documentation of performance, and a written manifesto. A selection of student works was exhibited in the Donghia gallery in an installation entitled Inherent Vice: Hidden Narratives (Figure 2.2.4). A mixture of pieces inspired by the topic of Inherent Vice and pieces made from deaccessioned

Figure 2.2.4  Inherent Vice: Hidden Narratives. Gallery display at the RISD Museum in Providence, RI. July–December 2022. Courtesy of the RISD Museum, Providence, RI.

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historical materials, the spring semester products contrasted with the gallery ­interventions produced by the Wintersession students. While the Wintersession class saw these garments as items frozen in a state of death or in the last gasps of dying, the Spring semester courses embraced the language and mindset of rebirth and renewal. This tension between death and rebirth grew from class discussions about conservation and preservation. Conservators are not always trained to let go, but in partnering with artists and community members, we have seen the creative, generative potential in allowing others to engage directly with historical materials. Rather than sending these damaged works to auction, destroying them as an insurance loss, or burdening another institution with their costly care, we have built new relationships between the community and staff. These pieces would have been overlooked for teaching or exhibition opportunities because of their fragility in storage. Rather than a slow, silent decay, they have instead been considered deeply, documented creatively, and used for enrichment as never before.

Conclusions While not a traditional conservation project, Inherent Vice has enriched our work as conservators. Broadly, the project reaffirmed the importance of taking a step back to reconsider disorder and repair. When discussing cycles of death and rebirth, Jack Halberstam says, ‘the language of repair suggests it’s the broken piece that’s the problem, not the method of repair. In a sense, we’re trying to sit with the brokenness here and reveal the brokenness in order for there to be other possibilities of seeing’ (2022). At RISD, sitting with brokenness opened new avenues for thinking and communicating about conservation. A year’s worth of discussions, coursework, and creative output illustrates the generative power of deteriorating textiles. The Inherent Vice project also allowed C&T staff to deeply examine textile conservation theory and practise with students and colleagues outside the echo chamber of the conservation field. It reaffirmed the value of teaching conservation beyond the linear outcomes of training students to become conservators or care for physical objects. Instead, conservation-focused coursework provided students and artists with practical considerations for their work, influenced their creative practice in abstract ways, and provided a new lens for interrogating history. To paraphrase Jane Henderson, working towards facilitating more enriching experiences around works of art can be more productive than attempting to halt entropy through exclusion (2020). Rather than holding on to these garments in anticipation of a theoretical moment when the museum might be able to conserve them, we sought an alternate way of approaching our current reality. Physical damage and deaccessioning were framed not as a loss but as an educational, creative, community-building opportunity. We hope this project will be a small foundation upon which other experiential collections projects can build. As a result of this project, students are more connected to the collection, and more faculty have incorporated conservation topics into their syllabi. It provided an opportunity to build trust, demystify conservation, and deepen connections with academic departments that will last beyond the project’s end. We aim to carry these relationships into our future work, ensuring that conservation and collections care remains a space where collaboration is central, valued, and facilitated.

References Becker, M.A., Willman, P. & Tuross, N.C. (1995). The U.S. First Ladies gowns: a biochemical study of silk preservation. JAIC, 34(2), 141–152. Davis, B. (2021). Artist statement. Available from: https://www.beccidavis.com/statement Dirt Palace (2018). The wedding cake house. Available from: http://www.dirtpalace.org/weddingcake.html

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Inherent vice: shattered silk Fifield, B. (2020). No more ‘behind-the-scenes’: word choice matters in presenting collection stewardship. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Institute for Conservation, online, 21 May–1 September 2020. Garside, P., Wyeth, P. & Zhang, X. (2010). Understanding the ageing behaviour of nineteenth and twentiethcentury tin-weighted silks. Journal of the Institute of Conservation, 33(2), 179–193. Gilcrease, S. (2018). The effect of humidification on artificially aged tin-weighted silk. Unpublished MSc thesis, University of Rhode Island. Available from: https://digitalcommons.uri.edu/theses/1298/ Grigorieff, S. (2022). Still felt. Providence RI: self-published. Hacke, M. (2008). Weighted silk: history, analysis and conservation. Studies in Conservation, 53, 3–15. Halberstam, J. (2022). Pluriversal, bewildered, or otherwise. Online video, YouTube. Available from: https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1QVGOGf1VM Hay, S.A. (1988). A world of costume and textiles. Providence RI: Museum of Art, Rhode Island School Of Design. Henderson, J. (2020). Beyond lifetimes: who do we exclude when we keep things for the future? Journal of the Institute of Conservation, 43(3), 195–212. Inherent Vice: Experimental Research Studio (2022). Class manifesto. Self-published. Providence RI: Rhode Island School of Design. Morgan, S. (2014). Inherent vice. AIC Wiki. Available from: https://www.conservation-wiki.com/wiki/ Inherent_vice Morrison, T. (1995). The site of memory. In W. Zinsser (Ed.), Inventing the truth: the art and craft of memoir (pp. 83–102). Boston & New York: Houghton Mifflin. Available from: https://blogs.umass.edu/brusert/ files/2013/03/Morrison_Site-of-Memory.pdf RISD Anti-Racism Coalition (risdARC) (2020). 2020 RISD BI POC student demands for racial equity & inclusion. Racial Justice, 21. Available from: https://digitalcommons.risd.edu/archives_activism_racialjustice/21/ Scaturro, S. & Petersen, G. (2014). Inherent vice: challenges and conservation. In H. Koda & J. Glier Reeder (Eds), Charles James: beyond fashion (pp. 233–251). New Haven: Yale University Press. The Haus of Glitter (2022). Our historic intervention. Available from: https://www.hausofglitter.org/home/ about

Note * Published in 2024.

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2.3 PRESERVING INFORMATION* Two beds with textile hangings dating from the seventeenth century Nicola Gentle

Introduction Two case studies concerning beds with textile hangings dating from the seventeenth century ­illustrate the contribution a freelance textile conservator can make towards preserving information to be found in significant objects. The first describes a commission from the National Trust (NT), an organization caring for places of historic interest for which the author of this paper has worked over several years as a self-employed conservator. The second involves an important object in private ownership. Both projects evolved from a request for practical treatment through the conservator’s personal interest in and commitment to furnishing textiles of this period.

The bed from the King Charles Room, Cotehele House, National Trust Cornwall While the room takes its name from the belief that King Charles I slept there in 1644, the bed itself appears to be made up of various sixteenth- and seventeenth-century carved wood parts, thought to have been put together in their current form in the late eighteenth century.1 The principal hangings retain embroidered slips – wool and silk yarns worked mainly in cross-stitch on linen canvas – and multicoloured silk fringes from the seventeenth century, which were reapplied to a dark brown wool jersey fabric in the twentieth century. An initial conservation brief, in the mid 1990s, discussed minimal treatment for the textiles. It was proposed, in agreement with the Regional Conservator, that the twentieth-century fabric of the upper and base valances would be retained: small areas of moth damage and losses would be supported so that the stitching of the seventeenth-century embroideries and fringes could be strengthened to them. Remains of a dark brown glazed cotton lining the bases, possibly of earlier date, would also be preserved but covered with a new, similar glazed cotton, also to be used to replace the very degraded twentieth-century linings on the upper valances and curtains. The decision to retain the main textile of these valances – despite its not being original to the embroideries – was made for several reasons. The presentation of the house’s interiors is now regarded as a deliberate putting together of ancient furnishings to create antiquarian settings and

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-13

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an important aspect of Cotehele’s history that should be preserved (Gentle, 2014; 2016; 2021). There is little historic documentation of the many alterations and repairs to clarify exactly what was done when and by whom. However, James Lees-Milne, writing of an episode at Cotehele in the late 1940s, gives a vivid insight to past attitudes and previous treatment of the textiles, and the bed-stock, of the so-called King Charles’s bed: Then there was the bogus, highly carved Charles I bed illustrated in Condy’s book. It was in the last stages of decay. Should we scrap it and replace it with a spare genuine bed from some other house? We decided not to. Just as someone on the estate had doubtless faked it up around 1800, so we handed it over to an incomparable jack of all trades, William Cook, who … dismantled and plunged the bed into a bath of de-worming solution, having first extracted and thrown away the worst infected bits … Meanwhile we had the bed’s original deep fringe with its heavy silk knots and devices, the valance and curtains re-backed and mended by an expert needlewoman, Sheila Breen, a farmer’s wife on the estate (Lees-Milne, 1992, Chapter 10). That a brown wool textile was chosen to remount the embroideries of the bed in the early 1950s may or may not be indicative of its former composition. (It could be that the brown jersey cloth was the only suitable fabric available so soon after the Second World War.) From a lithograph showing the bed, made after a watercolour by Nicholas Condy c.1840,2 it is not easy to conclude a definitive colour for the textile: it could be seen as light brown or possibly green, but that may be due to ‘artistic licence’. In a slightly later watercolour sketch by William James Müller,3 the textile appears as a reddish brown colour. With no strong evidence to the contrary, keeping the brown wool textile at least preserves part of the object’s history. Its jersey structure is very close-knit, giving a strong and visually acceptable backing, which sets off the seventeenth-century elements to full effect. There was a more pragmatic reason to preserve this textile: trials at lifting the embroidered slips proved very damaging to the silk-wrapped wool yarn gimps outlining the motifs. To lift them would cause loss to the object’s seventeenth-century integrity. One of the most significant features of the bed is the seventeenth-century multicoloured silk trellis (caul) fringe, trimming the upper outer valances. Constructed of latticework decorated with floss tufts and bouclé (crepe) roundels, it falls to long yarns, hanging against a secondary fringe of similar yarns, giving an overall depth of 285mm. In previous repairs, the latticework had been stitched to an extension of the valances’ replacement lining, often with incorrect placing. Extreme loss in the hanging fringes had been augmented with knottings of unsympathetic synthetic threads. A conservation method for the fringe was evolved in consultation with the Regional Conservator and Collections Manager. The latticework was carefully unpicked from its deteriorating backing, section by section, then supported by stitching onto nylon tulle: attachment of the roundels was reinforced to this. Previously added, well-intentioned but now unsympathetic threads were removed. A new deep fringe was coloured using textile paints in sequence to match the original secondary fringe, which exists only as remains of a heading for much of its length. The new fringe, stitched to hang behind the originals, greatly improves the appearance (Figure 2.3.1). It reduces passage of air through the very fragile remaining hanging yarns. Moreover, it also forms a record of original colours. The lengthy practical treatment of the fringe afforded the textile conservator an opportunity to study its complex construction and range of colours and to record them in an annotated painted drawing to be displayed at Cotehele House (Figure 2.3.2).

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Figure 2.3.1 The bed in the King Charles Room, Cotehele, displayed after conservation. © National Trust/ Nicola Gentle. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

Figure 2.3.2 Drawing made to show the construction of fringing on the upper outer valances of the bed in the King Charles Room, Cotehele. © Nicola Gentle.

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During the early stages of attention to the bed, it became clear that there was a need for structural work on the bed-stock, particularly to the too-small current tester-frame. This was causing instability to the woodwork and stress to the textiles. Furniture restorers with long experience of working for the National Trust carried out necessary alteration and consolidation, allowing a valuable two-way collaboration to define the various dimensional adjustments required to the upper bed-stock and textiles, and to discuss the best means of re-hanging the bed curtains. There were five curtains pertaining to the King Charles Room as found in the mid 1990s: two were hung on the bed, two at the window and one was in store. Made from the twentieth-century jersey fabric, each was adorned with two long vertical applied embroideries and narrow fringes contemporary to the seventeenth-century slips and latticework fringe. Their overall condition was markedly poorer than that of the upper and base valances, which were strengthened with canvas interlinings and fixed to the bed to hang flat. By contrast, the curtains were hanging in folds with only a strip of degraded lining across the top area. They had undoubtedly been drawn back and forth over the years, resulting in abrasion and losses to both the ground textile and the embroideries. In particular, the gimps edging the slips had suffered from such handling and were lifting and unravelling with the silk yarn wrapping extensively lost. A different approach for treatment of the curtains was discussed with the Collections Manager and Regional Curator at the National Trust, and advice was also sought from textile and furniture curators at the Victoria and Albert Museum. With no firm information about their original construction or placing of the embroidered motifs, other factors were taken into account. Foremost, priority needed to be given to providing the seventeenth-century embroidery with sympathetic support and display, while at the same time the curtains themselves could be made to better reflect a way of hanging bed curtains as observed in contemporary illustrations. At the time the curtains were pushed back so far that the embroidery was crushed and not visible to full advantage. Therefore, a plan was agreed to remake the curtains with a new mainly wool fabric, dyed to match the twentieth-century jersey. By making the curtains to suit the dimensions of the bed and window and redeploying the decoration, the display of the embroidery would be much improved from both a conservation and a presentation point of view. The benefits gained would far outweigh any slight disturbances caused by unpicking. The long time-span for conservation of this bed – due to funding issues, necessary treatment of the bed-stock and commitment to major projects at other properties – created advantages that might not have occurred within the pressure of institutional exhibition work. Time affords greater understanding towards interpretation of an object as well as the opportunity to evolve a methodology. Although most of the treatment was worked in the textile conservator’s studio, finishing and reassembly was necessarily carried out at the property itself. Items were re-hung on the bed as conservation work was completed, providing interest to regular visitors to the house and volunteer room stewards, raising a wider awareness of conservation issues. The Collections Manager and house team at Cotehele also watched the progress of the project. They have become committed to the long-term care of this particular object and are more aware of the needs of the collection as a whole. Subsequently, a survey of all textile objects at Cotehele House was commissioned. Working with the Collections Manager, the textile conservator was able to identify the items that require the attention of an experienced specialist and those that could be entrusted to the dedicated house team or a very skilled volunteer needleworker.

The bed belonging to Lord Rochester, c.1675 In 2004, dismantled parts of a bed long associated with John Wilmot, second Earl of Rochester, were rediscovered in store at Blenheim Palace, Oxfordshire, and moved to private ownership in 103

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Cornwall. The bed is known to originate from High Lodge on the Woodstock Estate – now the grounds of ­Blenheim – where Charles II appointed Wilmot as Keeper and Ranger in 1675. The bed is understood to date from that time and is believed to be the one in which Rochester passed away in 1680. Items found include parts of the wooden bed-stock as well as many textile hangings. The author was approached to pack them for transportation and to discuss possible conservation and display proposals with the bed’s new custodian. In conversation, even before viewing, it became clear that the principal textiles of printed wool-cloth were very rare survivals of their kind. On recovery of these and the other parts, there could only be an obligation – and a desire – for the textile conservator to research and document fully every aspect of this significant object. During the processes of initial cleaning, temporary netting and making the items comfortable for what might transpire to be further long-term storage, all the textiles were examined thoroughly. The conservator is often privileged to have the closest view and longest time to contemplate the information an object can reveal of its original manufacture. A clear priority here was to reconstruct the design on the wool textile, which has no known extant contemporary comparison, and to record any insight into the process of printing, about which very little is known at that date. From the best-preserved curtain, a Melinex® (polyester film) tracing was made, setting out an overview of the pattern. Tracings were then taken from all the areas where the printing retains clarity: the top of curtains protected by valances, the inner valances less exposed to light and patches used to

Figure 2.3.3 Drawing reconstructing the design on the printed wool textiles of Lord Rochester’s bed. © Nicola Gentle.

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repair the head-cloth. These were then pieced together to produce a complete picture of the design, revealing a block-printed pattern-repeat of 870mm (34 inches) square (Figure 2.3.3). The tracings of the pattern also highlighted features that would not have been detected easily by visual inspection alone. Although the design is essentially bilaterally symmetrical, slight variations occur from one side to the other. More interestingly, differences are observed from one repeat to the next, showing that at least two blocks were employed in the printing, probably for more efficient production. Close inspection of the textiles themselves shows that, although subsequent exposure to light has caused varying degrees of fading on the reverse side, when newly printed the design was equally strong on both faces. In fact, it seems the pattern was once so clear on the reverse that the upper valances and one of the curtains have been made with the ‘wrong’ side outmost. The making-up of all the parts of Rochester’s bed, particularly of the textile items, was also investigated fully. Many of the observations could be laid out in the easily seen and compared format of annotated measured drawings. Other more complex issues were recorded and discussed best in written reports. Evidence of extant stitching can suggest original seams or altered edges, while remains of threads and stitch-holes may tell of previous linings, bindings or tassel trimmings. These details are possibly not absolutely essential to any proposed practical conservation treatments but are all-important to preserving knowledge about the original appearance and making of an object, as well as its subsequent history of alterations or re-use. The information will be a valuable addition to understanding the object as a whole if individual items are preserved as study pieces and could also be pertinent to future interpretation and means of display. During investigations it became clear that the object purported to be Lord Rochester’s deathbed – and displayed as such at High Lodge well into the twentieth century – had been put together with the parts of at least two seventeenth-century beds. Rather than detracting from its integrity, such findings may contribute to an object’s significance. At least, they provide additional information from other contemporary items. More especially in this case, they throw light on the making of a ‘relic’ to celebrate John Wilmot, second Earl of Rochester, poet and libertine, to which visitors in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries continued to come and pay homage (Gentle, 2009). The original appearance of Rochester’s printed wool bed proved difficult to comprehend fully from the dismantled, altered parts found. In their current fragile state and situation, it was not feasible to try to reconstruct them. Therefore, it was decided to make a quarter-scale model, in order to gain a better understanding of the bed’s seventeenth-century form (Figure 2.3.4). On the page, measurements taken or drawings made from individual items can never provide a true picture of the three-dimensional relationships and proportions that a composite object conveyed when it was first assembled. The model helped to answer some questions: for instance, evidence relating to the position of the headboard was found to match almost exactly that on another contemporary bed-stock studied for this project. Making of the model also raised some pertinent questions: would this bed have had a canopied tester; would the canopy have been deeper; if so, would the bed have had a cornice? These issues are more easily looked at in the three-dimensional format. In the meantime, images of the replica can enable discussion and also illustrate publications concerning this significant object in a way not otherwise possible. Research of Lord Rochester’s bed received some very welcome funding and support from the Arts and Humanities Research Council-funded Research Centre for Textile Conservation and Textile Studies, University of Southampton, and the Tom Ingram Memorial Trust, through the Furniture History Society. This made possible the commissioning of fibre and dye analysis, which added considerably to the information gained concerning the printed wool textile in particular. These grants – as well as providing resources for an archive researcher to investigate documents 105

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Figure 2.3.4 Quarter-scale model made to show the possible original appearance of Lord Rochester’s bed. © Nicola Gentle.

pertaining to the bed’s history during and after Rochester’s term at High Lodge – contributed towards expenses to visit the most informed textile and furniture historians for discussion and to view related objects of the period, in order to set the research into the widest context possible. However, it must be said that the extremely time-consuming nature of such a project can rarely be fully covered financially.

Conclusion Not every object is so significant or revealing. Nor is every work situation able to accommodate time for such investigations – no doubt, too few. The author of this study has chosen to create an individual work ethos that allows a valuable amount of time for research and documentation of significant objects, complemented by related practical treatments. Not every conservator will either want, or be able, to work in this way. But the textile conservator has to be aware (and others should acknowledge) that they are in a privileged position, and surely – wherever and however possible – must find ways of recording, and preserving for posterity, any significant discoveries made during their close involvement with the objects in their care (Gentle, 2001; 2009; 2014; 2016; 2021).

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Acknowledgments Many thanks are due to Rachel Hunt, former House and Collections Manager at Cotehele House, and John Schofield, custodian of Lord Rochester’s bed, for their support, discussion and permission to publish these case studies.

References Gentle, N. (2001). A study of the late seventeenth-century state bed from Melville House. Furniture History, 37, 1–16. Gentle, N. (2009). Lord Rochester’s bed. Furniture History, 45, 35–54. Gentle, N. (2014). An astonishing survival: the bed in the red room at Cotehele, Cornwall. Furniture History, 50, 37–51. Gentle, N. (2016). Embroidered hangings on two beds at Knole and Cotehele. In E. Slocombe (Ed.), National Trust historic houses and collections annual 2016 (pp. 60–66). London: Apollo. Gentle, N. (2021). Revealing textiles on some upholstered furniture c. 1700. Furniture History, 57, 25–48. Lees-Milne, J. (1992). People and places. Country house donors and the National Trust. London: John Murray.

Notes * Published in 2010, revised in 2024. 1 The bed is on display at Cotehele, NT no. 347764. 2 Lithograph after Nicholas Condy (c.1840) in store at Cotehele, NT no. 348153. 3 Watercolour sketch by William James Müller (c.1844) in store at Cotehele, NT no. 349530.1.

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2.4 CONSERVATION AND CONNOISSEURSHIP* Linda Eaton

The word connoisseur is a somewhat old-fashioned one, resonating with overtones of the dilettantish judgement of other people’s taste. Examples provided by the Oxford English Dictionary all date before 1883 with one exception: its ironic use in a fictional murder mystery. Also considered by the American-based Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary to be an obsolete term, a connoisseur is therein defined as an expert ‘who understands the details, technique, or principles of an art and is competent to act as a critical judge’. Professor Kenneth L. Ames, author of the provocatively titled Death in the Dining Room and Other Tales of Victorian Culture, is credited at Winterthur with first using the term as a verb. Ames would tell his students that once they acquired the skills needed for the close and detailed study of an object – usually, at that time, a piece of eighteenthcentury American furniture – they would be able ‘to connoisse’ anything. Despite the implication of antiquarianism, the term connoisseurship continues to be used today as the title of a course that forms part of the curriculum of the Winterthur Program in American Material Culture (WPAMC), a master of arts degree programme run in conjunction with the University of Delaware, where it is interpreted by some as a snobbish and by others as a more succinct word meaning ‘material culture’ or ‘object-based research’. Object-based research is not a new concept in the study of historic textiles, but the nature of the collection at Winterthur has provided opportunities for both staff and students to use these skills in unexpected ways. This paper features two connoisseurship projects by students in the WPAMC, presenting them in the context of the history of the development of Winterthur’s collection. Rarely do students have the opportunity to study actual (as opposed to virtual) objects at the undergraduate level, so this is often their first taste of real connoisseurship. Students in the master of science programme Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation (WUDPAC) are welcome to audit this course, but, to date, they have not chosen to undertake a connoisseurship project. Instead, each WUDPAC student undertakes a textile documentation project in their first year, where they are required to research the history of a textile in order to put their treatment proposal into some form of cultural context. The goal of that project is to ensure that each student understands that issues of condition reporting and treatment cannot be considered in isolation from the historical context of the object.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-14108

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History of Winterthur’s collection of textiles The collection at Winterthur Museum consists of over 22,000 examples of textiles, the majority of which were collected by the museum’s founder, Henry Francis du Pont, in the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s. Working with a variety of dealers and auction houses, du Pont initially acquired many important European and American textiles to use in decorating first his summer home on Long Island and later his massively expanded family home in Delaware, which opened to the public as Winterthur Museum in 1951. Because his purpose was not to acquire an academic collection, du Pont would usually purchase large quantities of fabrics, and the invoices would often simply detail the amount of useful yardage instead of the object from which it came, such as an eighteenthcentury dress, an ecclesiastical vestment or an early nineteenth-century set of bed hangings. This practice was in contrast to that of museums such as The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Cooper Union Museum (now Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum), and the Philadelphia Museum of Art, which were founded on the model of the Victoria and Albert Museum in the UK. Because their primary purpose was to exhibit models of good design as sources of inspiration to contemporary designers as well as to the general public, many of the textiles they acquired in the early twentieth century consisted of smaller fragments of fabric that illustrated one design repeat – a type of collecting that was instigated at Winterthur with the employment of museum professionals in the 1950s. In the early twentieth century, textile dealers, who were often authorities on historic textiles in their own right, catered to both sides of the trade. Elinor Merrell regularly advertised that her firm, known as Old Chintzes, stocked ‘big quantities for curtains and chair coverings’ as well as ‘Historical Documents’. Merrell worked closely with textile scholars and collectors in both Europe and America, often facilitating the exchange of information and images. For example, correspondence in Winterthur’s archives records that she arranged for du Pont to send images of his extensive collection of commemorative handkerchiefs to Paul Schwartz, then curator of the Musée de l’Impression sur Étoffes in Mulhouse. Other dealers included Herman A. Elsberg (1869–1938), also recognized as a textile scholar who catered to the fashionable use of historic textiles in interiors. Much of his personal collection of archaeological fragments from Egypt and Peru was donated to The Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Cleveland Museum of Art, among others. J.A. Lloyd Hyde used his role as a dealer specializing in lighting fixtures and ceramics as well as textiles to provide cover for his work for the CIA during the Second World War; he obtained large yardages of silk wall coverings, curtains, and other textile furnishings from castles and manor houses throughout Europe for du Pont and other wealthy American collectors. Auction houses were another source of textiles for the discerning collector in the early twentieth century. Du Pont purchased quilts, checked linens, and some printed cottons from smaller auction houses in Southeastern Pennsylvania, but he purchased large yardages of silks and velvets from the American Art Association, an auction house in New York that handled many of the historic textiles used to furnish New York’s Gilded Age mansions as their owners died and their style of interior design fell out of fashion. He also purchased antique fabrics through department stores such as Wanamaker’s, where Nancy McClelland opened the first antiques department in 1913, and interior design firms such as Tiffany Studios (Eaton, 2007). Du Pont considered the interiors he created as his artistic medium, and they were widely admired by visitors and interior decorators of the time. Nancy McClelland, who served as the President of the American Institute of Decorators when du Pont was elected to Honorary Membership in 1941, often asked to bring some of her more important clients to see Winterthur. Winterthur’s interiors became even more influential after the museum opened in 1951, and photographs 109

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appeared in many magazines of the time. Du Pont had his interiors photo-documented in a series of hand-coloured stereo-views in the 1930s (Figure 2.4.1), and by various formats of both black and white and colour photography in the 1940s, but he would never allow any of these images to be published or provide access to press photographers. Widely respected as an authority on antiques and creator of influential interiors, du Pont was asked by Jackie Kennedy to serve as the Chair of the Fine Arts Committee involved with the restoration and redecoration of the White House in the early 1960s (Rice, 1993).1 Du Pont collected textiles in enormous quantities, needing extensive yardage to create curtains, bed hangings, and upholstery for over 170 rooms at Winterthur. The furnishing textiles and rugs in most of these rooms were changed seasonally to coordinate with the colours of du Pont’s beloved garden. Important public or private rooms such as the Chinese Parlor, where guests would gather to play bridge in the evenings, or du Pont’s own bedroom would have as many as four seasonal changes, while other rooms might have only two or three. The interiors at Winterthur were constantly being altered as du Pont re-arranged his collection or learned new information about historic interiors as scholarship in this field progressed. In the 1950s du Pont realized that the historic textiles he considered to be essential to renew, repair, and update the period rooms were becoming more difficult to obtain, and he encouraged the museum to actively collect and preserve historic furnishing textiles and provided the funds to do so.

Figure 2.4.1 Port Royal Parlor, 1935, photographed in black and white by Robert V. Brost and hand-­ coloured in situ by Annette Karge. More than 300 stereo-views, a form of three-dimensional photography, were taken at Winterthur in the 1930s. Courtesy, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library.

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Today Winterthur’s textile collection is housed in nine storage areas on two floors of the museum. Until these storage areas were reorganized in the 1990s, rolls of silk damasks and brocades, cotton checks, and other furnishing textiles were stored according to their colour in order to facilitate decisions about their use. The period rooms continued to be refined and redefined throughout the late twentieth century as curators attempted to achieve historic accuracy to the late seventeenth, eighteenth, and early nineteenth centuries – the stylistic periods represented by the furniture displayed and the architectural elements bought from historic buildings to provide their settings. No historic textiles have been cut up for use in the period rooms at Winterthur since the author was employed as textile conservator in 1991. It was not until the late 1990s that the significance of Winterthur’s interiors as icons of interior design from the early twentieth century was recognized and valued, and some of the rooms were returned to their earlier arrangements. All this serves to explain the eclectic nature of Winterthur’s textile collection as well as the difficulty of documenting its origin with any degree of accuracy. The collection includes important examples of eighteenth-century printed cottons and woven silks, high-quality examples of ­nineteenth-century revivals of earlier designs (the fashion for historicism was prevalent particularly in the second half of the century), as well as examples of early twentieth-century reproductions. It contains fixed upholstery and loose covers cut from eighteenth-century gowns, or window and bed hangings refashioned from eighteenth-century crewel embroidered bed covers. Nothing can be assumed to be what the catalogue record (if there is one) might claim. How can one tell? Sometimes it can be the close analysis of the design, but frequently the accurate dating and identification rely on the nature of the materials and techniques of manufacture, the physical nature of the object itself. That is the essence of connoisseurship. Experienced conservators and museum curators have the benefit of working closely with collections and build up their knowledge of their physicality that enables them to evaluate the fibres, spin, weave structures, colours, weight, drape, scale, etc. through experience. But this is something that is rarely discussed in the academic literature and rarely mentioned in undergraduate courses in art history. The identification and detailed description of the physical nature of a textile is part and parcel of the work of a conservator, one that has been very useful to me since I became the curator of textiles in 1999, and something that I wanted to find a way of passing on to my students. My solution is to assign each student in the Winterthur Program in American Material Culture a research project on a textile, usually from Winterthur’s collection, for which existing catalogue records and object files are non-existent or their contents are egregiously in error. These objects have all been carefully selected so that the central question about them focuses on an issue that is not readily addressed in the secondary literature on textile history. This forces the student to rely heavily on information gleaned from the physical nature of the object itself. These projects result in improved catalogue data, and the students have sometimes discovered some fascinating stories.

The big, ugly, purple thing Winterthur’s collection includes a large and very odd item of clothing, catalogued as a European cloak dated between 1750 and 1830 (Figure 2.4.2). Christina Keyser, who since her graduation from the WPAMC in 2007 has been working as an assistant curator at George Washington’s Mount Vernon, elected to take on this challenge as her textile connoisseurship project (Keyser, 2006). Keyser fully diagrammed and described the cut and construction of this object, including the anomalous presence of lacing (bound holes threaded with linen tape) along one arm. She recognized that the construction was incompatible with the date assigned to the object in Winterthur’s collection catalogue database. 111

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Figure 2.4.2 Theatre costume. Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont 1969.0491.  Courtesy, Winterthur ­Museum, Garden & Library.

Archival research uncovered that the ‘cloak’ had been purchased for Henry Francis du Pont by Otto Bernet at the auction of the collection of David Belasco, a once-famous New York theatre impresario, at the American Art Association Anderson Galleries in New York in 1931. As Keyser (2006) noted, ‘Belasco was known for producing realistic and well-researched sets and costumes’, and one critic stated that his 1922 production of The Merchant of Venice was ‘worthwhile, almost as one goes to a museum’. The velvet cloak had been catalogued in that auction as ‘Amethyst Velvet Long-Skirted Coat French, XVIII Century. Heavy velvet in good preservation, one sleeve laced’. Although Keyser speculated that du Pont might have purchased this to wear at a fancy dress party, it is more likely that he wanted it to cut up and use as upholstery fabric. It is well known that one of du Pont’s favourite colour combinations was purple and yellow, a combination which he used extensively in his garden as well as in a number of rooms including the Port Royal Parlor (known in the 1930s as the Reception Room) and the McIntire Bedroom (known in the 1930s as the South Room). Du Pont is known to have purchased items of historic clothing to cut up and use as upholstery fabric, and fragments of some of them still survive in the collection because they were carefully kept in storage for future repairs. Interestingly, two surviving eighteenth-century gowns and petticoats in the collection are also lavender or purple brocaded silk. Although it was clear that the cut and construction of the cloak were incompatible with the date and attribution in both the auction catalogue and the museum catalogue records, its style did not clarify just what the true dating of the coat or cloak might be. Instrumental analysis was not possible due to the short time period for the project, but with the assistance of Kathleen Kiefer, 112

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conservator, and Kristin de Ghetaldi, a student in the WUDPAC programme, a wet chemical test was undertaken to confirm that the purple colour of the silk velvet consisted of a synthetic dyestuff, placing its origin firmly in the late nineteenth or possibly very early twentieth century.

The netted white elephant Many beds displayed in American historic houses are fitted with netted canopies that have no obvious prototypes from the eighteenth or early nineteenth centuries, the dates of the bedsteads on which they hang. Staci Steinberger, a 2009 graduate of WPAMC programme currently working at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, selected three examples that display different construction techniques from Winterthur’s collection to research for her textile connoisseurship project (Steinberger, 2009). The canopy on a bed in the Winterthur Bedroom is a common handknotted netting, often described as ‘fish net’ (Figure 2.4.3). A similar example in the Child’s Room has additional decoration applied in a coarse darning stitch. The canopy in the Sheraton Room is not netting but is made from an openwork woven checked cotton, with a supplemental thread in the open areas which provides a decorative twist to the unwoven warps or wefts in imitation of drawn-work embroidery. Comparing these examples to netted and knotted fringes found on early nineteenth-century bedcovers in Winterthur’s collection, Steinberger recognized that the materials and techniques of construction of the canopies were inconsistent with the better-provenanced examples and set out to solve the mystery.

Figure 2.4.3 The Winterthur Bedroom, Winterthur Museum. Courtesy, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library.

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Steinberger found that although these netted canopies were ubiquitous in colonial revival interiors, she could not track any examples back further than the late nineteenth century. Sources from the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries occasionally document netting used as bed hangings, sometimes called ‘mosquito curtains’, but the rare surviving examples are made from true gauze (a leno weave structure), loosely woven, sheer, plain-weave linen, or, in the nineteenth century, machine-made cotton tulle, sometimes also called net or netting. Steinberger then searched through women’s magazines and books on fancy work from the late nineteenth century, where she discovered that examples of each technique used to make Winterthur’s three canopies featured prominently. Steinberger concluded that the fashion for coarsely netted bed canopies dates only from the late nineteenth century but was unable to account for the fact that by the 1920s these canopies were assumed by numerous authors, collectors, dealers, and other experts to be much earlier. It is unlikely to be coincidental that at this time there was a fashion for draping fishnets in modernist interiors. Netted canopies made in the early twentieth century were very popular and widely available, and a few makers can be identified. For example, Wallace Nutting, a colonial revival entrepreneur whose company made reproductions of early American furniture, commissioned hand-made canopies through Berea College, a centre of the revival of artisanal craftwork. The real irony of Steinberger’s research was the discovery that the netted canopy in the Winterthur bedroom was painstakingly reproduced by hand in 1968 by Rachel Hawks of Deerfield, Massachusetts, who clearly had considerable experience making these for collectors and interior designers at that time. The original that she copied, carefully preserved in Winterthur’s textile storage, is discoloured in a very even and consistent manner, highly suggestive of tea dyeing in imitation of the colour of degraded cellulose, once a common practice. The results of this project will provide important information to historic houses in America as they seek to improve the display and interpretation of beds currently draped with netted canopies.

Conclusion Not all projects undertaken by students on the WPAMC programme have resulted in ‘masterpieces’ biting the dust. Sarah L. Jones studied a rare sweet bag and matching knife sheath, and her research strongly supports the reported provenance that these were owned by a member of the Norris family who frequented the court of Queen Elizabeth I, and descended within the family until given to relatives who came to Philadelphia in the eighteenth century (Jones, 2006). Christie Jackson researched a white bedcover dated 1820 with the name Katurah Reeve prominently embroidered twice, and found that the ship painstakingly stitched in the centre is an accurate depiction of the ­Patriot, a ship owned by her family. The story of the foundering of the Patriot on a voyage from Mobile to New York in 1819, and the rescue of its crew, was repeated in newspapers up and down the Eastern Seaboard. The mystery of the repeated name was solved when Jackson’s genealogical research discovered two family members with the same name living in 1820, and close examination of the technique of embroidery disclosed that it had been worked by two different needlewomen. The ability to document this example will encourage further research into surviving pictorial quilts and bedcovers with the hope of recovering their original stories (Jackson, 2007). These textile connoisseurship projects serve to provide experience for young scholars in objectbased research, to improve the documentation of Winterthur’s collection, and to further textile scholarship in interesting and sometimes unexpected ways. The word connoisseurship may be considered old-fashioned or even obsolete, but the practice of this skill is important to both conservators and curators as we work together to solve the mysteries inherent in many textiles and build on the foundations of textile scholarship for the future. 114

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Acknowledgements I am deeply grateful to my own teacher, Karen Finch, OBE, D.Litt., FIIC, who initiated me into the practice of object-based research and prepared me for a career as both conservator and ­curator; and I am indebted to all the students, past, present, and future, of both the Winterthur Program in ­American Material Culture and the Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation.

References Eaton, L. (2007). In themselves a textile museum: decorating with quilts in the early twentieth century. ­Chapter 7. In Quilts in a material world: selections from the Winterthur Museum (pp. 164–187). New York: Abrams in association with the Henry Francis du Pont Winterthur Museum. Jackson, C. (2007). Unfurling the Katurah Reeve bedcover: a story of candlewicking, maritime culture, and one family’s legacy. Unpublished research project, Object File 1966.139, Registrar’s Office, Winterthur Museum. Jones, S.L. (2006). From the court of Queen Elizabeth to Henry Francis Du Pont’s Winterthur: a seventeenth century sweet bag and knife sheath in the Winterthur Collection. Unpublished research project, Object File 1958.102, Registrar’s Office, Winterthur Museum. Keyser, C. (2006). The ugly purple thing: Winterthur’s purple velvet robe. Unpublished research project, Object File 1969.941, Registrar’s Office, Winterthur Museum. Rice, E.M. (1993). Furnishing Camelot: the restoration of the White House interiors and the role of H. F. du Pont. Unpublished thesis. Steinberger, S. (2009). The (netted) white elephant: an exploration of the origins of netted testers. ­Unpublished research project, Object file 1955.662, Registrar’s Office, Winterthur Museum.

Notes * Published in 2010. 1 Some of Rice’s research appears in Abbott, J.A. & Rice, E.M. (1998). Designing Camelot: the Kennedy White House restoration. New York: Van Nostrand Reinhold.

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2.5 THE CONSERVATOR’S EYE* Bringing an additional perspective to textile artefacts Elizabeth E. Peacock

Conservators contribute extensively to the study of archaeological textiles. Many archaeological textile specialists are, in fact, experienced professional archaeological conservators. They bring to their research the knowledge and practical and analytical skillset of an archaeological conservator. Frequently, it is the conservator who is the first responder – the first to handle, examine and record a textile find, be it on-site or in the conservation laboratory. It may well be the only point at which the artefact is investigated in detail and microscopically. The conservator’s knowledge of the complex interactions between organic material with their surrounding post-depositional environment enables them to shed light on not only textile remains but also the associated context. The potential insights a conservator can contribute to the study of archaeological textiles is illustrated by our work as a partner in a multidisciplinary team1 addressing questions related to the field of foetal loss, a field of study that is underrepresented in archaeology. This contribution focuses on the team’s study of three deliberately concealed early nineteenth-century burials and the insights provided by a professional archaeological conservator’s knowledge. It aims to demonstrate what the conservator can bring to the study of archaeological textiles that goes beyond standard technical analysis. The field of archaeological textile studies is interdisciplinary and significantly diverse by nature, and the past few decades have seen tremendous advances not only in the study of the textiles themselves but also in a more comprehensive investigation of broader issues such as resource procurement, manufacturing, trade and material culture.

The nature of archaeological textile studies The corpus of archaeological textile materials ranges from recently excavated materials to accessioned artefacts in long-established museum and archive collections. The latter have a collection history in addition to their pre-deposition and excavation biography. Their states can range from unconserved, treated on-site only,2 to conserved, and can be further influenced by post-excavation storage and display. Many of the physical and chemical properties of textiles are transformed through use and taphonomic processes in the burial environment such that the find’s resemblance to its original characteristics may be altered beyond recognition. DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-15116

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Textile materials recovered from archaeological contexts are most commonly fragmentary, and mechanically and chemically degraded at one or more levels (e.g., fibre, yarn, fabric, garment). Their survival can be due to a variety of extreme environmental conditions, such as exceptional coldness (e.g., arctic sites), wetness (e.g., urban environments, marine sites, bogs, burial mounds, mines) or dryness (deserts, caves, tombs, churches, secular buildings). Moreover, special circumstances can lead to the formation of mineral-preserved, soil-preserved or carbonized textile materials. Textiles recovered from damp, wet or frozen sites are commonly brown in colour, biodeteriorated, water saturated and unstable unless that water is removed under controlled conditions. The potential for analysis and examination prior to controlled drying can be restricted. Textile artefacts recovered from dry environments range from well preserved and handleable to friable and brittle; yet, unlike artefacts from wet environments, they are stable and often can be examined and studied extensively prior to or without conservation. The analysis of textile artefacts is complex. One of the main challenges is fibre degradation; fibres are frequently not fully comparable to modern or historic materials. The primary method of analysis of archaeological textiles has always been – and continues to be – the same as that for historic textiles, the collection of information through visual observation at the macroscopic (i.e., naked eye) and microscopic levels.3 Traditionally, this has revolved around the systematic recording of technical aspects such as identification of the raw materials, yarn properties, fabric structure and construction, thread count, borders and seams, decoration and preserved colour. With degraded archaeological material, this analysis is supplemented by documenting non-technical features related to a textile’s state, such as creases, missing threads and damage (e.g., wear, soiling, stitching holes, staining). Also visible to the naked eye are the overall appearance and visual impression of a textile in the form of topographical features such as lustre, texture, density, thickness, transparency and coarseness/fineness. Standard technical examination has consistently proved insufficient to describe the visual character and properties of textiles that are technically the same but which differ in appearance. Hammarlund4 introduced the concept of applying experienced-based handicraft knowledge and skills to investigate the source of these technically complex properties and demonstrated that it is the manner of construction that influences the foundation of a fabric’s appearance (Hammarlund et al., 2008). This interaction of handicraft factors (e.g., binding, finishing) led to the method of visual grouping of archaeological textiles. There are many avenues of approach when investigating archaeological textiles. The identification of dyestuffs and mordants was one of the first properties of textiles to be investigated using chemical and instrumental techniques. More recently, the advancement of analytical techniques within the natural sciences has seen methods adopted/adapted not only to analyse dyes but also to extract new, previously inconceivable, types of information, including biomolecular analysis (e.g., ancient DNA, paleoproteomics), isotope tracing and radiocarbon (14C) dating. Beyond the physical textile artefacts, studies of context, of associated materials such as tools and archaeobotanical and archaeozoological remains, of craftmanship and of experimental archaeology continue to contribute to the growing field of archaeological textile research.

The conservator’s knowledge As pointed out earlier, the primary scientific research method of analysis in the study of textile artefacts is visual observation – the most important tool in the conservator’s toolbox. It is a skill that must be systematically learned, and whose development is a dynamic process. Conservators are trained to examine objects in detail – observation competency is a basic skill. Conservation is a multisensory experience. Observation is most commonly associated with the sense of sight, 117

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but it also includes the senses of smell, touch, taste and hearing. An excavated textile can give off an earthy (e.g., musty, mould, peat-like, swampy), chemical (e.g., tar) or offensive (e.g., putrid, septic, decay, latrine) odour. For most people, visual observation is deceptively simple and seemingly so trivial that it need not be learned. That is a mistake. Observing is more than ‘just looking’ or ‘seeing’. ‘Just looking’ becomes scientific observation when questions are asked, hypotheses generated and data interpreted on the basis of those hypotheses. It requires coordination of disciplinary knowledge, theory and practice, and habits of attention. In conservation, observation is combined with reflective thinking and the conservator’s (tacit) knowledge – not unlike the work of a surgeon or a weaver (Muñoz-Viñas, 2022).

Textiles associated with human remains and concealed textiles Ethical considerations related to the raising, handling, study and exhibition of human remains from archaeological contexts have been and continue to be a much-debated issue. The intimate association of textile materials with human remains recovered from archaeological contexts is not uncommon, neither has been the involvement of conservators with such finds. These partially to well-preserved bodies include natural and deliberately mummified individuals recovered from tombs, crypts, burial mounds, sacrifices, accidents and natural disasters, bogs and environments of extreme cold and dry conditions. Previously, it was common for clothing to be removed and separated from human remains, to be studied and undergo conservation treatment (Lagnesjö, 1995; Peacock, 2007b). There are many case studies of the conservation of textiles separated from their associated remains, but few reported cases where textile and human remains have been neither separated nor subjected to remedial conservation.5 Deliberately concealed objects, including worn clothing and apparel, that have been deliberately hidden or buried within the closed spaces of a secular building,6 is a field of study to which conservators contribute.7 Usually, these objects are revealed during building renovation or demolition. Typically, they are not associated with human remains but can include animal remains such as cats and bats. It is a practice with magical connotations that dates back to the Middle Ages and is recorded in many countries. Conservation intervention (investigation, preservation, presentation) of once-concealed garments, including remedial conservation, is frequently undertaken. The conservation approach is governed by the significance attributed to these finds and can include no intervention, minimal intervention, remedial treatment and/or mounting for storage and display. Another widespread but seldom-reported concealment tradition is the deliberate secret burial of foetuses, primarily in or adjacent to churches, but also in other settings; a custom known since the Middle Ages that continued into the twentieth century. Historically, miscarriage was a stigmatized subject, and, although it must have been a common feature of many women’s lives, it is a relatively unexplored topic archaeologically. This now largely forgotten tradition was common in Nordic Europe and was a consequence both of medieval church law, which forbade the burial of unbaptized children in consecrated ground, but also of harsh legislation against out-of-wedlock pregnancies and the social stigma around miscarriage. Concealed interment in a small wooden or cardboard coffin – makeshift, carefully crafted or procured – often wrapped in a textile or paper shroud, was widespread and well known. It was facilitated by family members, midwives, gravediggers, sextons or others within the community, and existed in parallel with official religious practice in modern Nordic Europe (Bø, 1960). For ethical considerations, and in contrast to garments associated with non-human concealments, direct conservation intervention of burial shrouds associated with these finds is discouraged, even when the coffins and their material and human contents have been disturbed or separated. 118

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Case study: textile artefacts intimately associated with human foetal remains Two secret foetal burials from Bringetofta (Småland) and Gällared (Halland) parish churches and one from a farmhouse in Åkerby (Uppland), Sweden, were studied by our multidisciplinary foetal loss team to reconstruct practices linked to the handling and burial of stillborn foetuses in the decades around 1800. Additionally, we aimed to gain insight into the taphonomic processes that occur within the immediate buried body environment and specifically their effect on the nature, rate and extent of decomposition. Analysis of the textile shrouds contributed to both. In 1992, in connection with building restoration work, a small, lidded wooden box (150 × 60 × 60mm; Figure 2.5.1a) was found in a deep crack in an attic wall of Bringetofta parish church.8 The box was handed over to Jönköping’s museum unopened. When opened and inspected, it was revealed to contain small bone and cartilage fragments tightly packed in a crumpled cloth. The contents underwent repeated handling whilst being investigated by a number of specialists at several institutions in the 1990s. The bones were first judged to be those of a small animal, perhaps a bat, but were eventually established to be the remains of a very small human foetus. The textile shroud (approx. 300 × 550mm) was identified as a long-sleeve, infant-size smocked dress with an opening in the back in worn, repaired and torn linen fabric (Figure 2.5.1b). It was not possible to date the burial more precisely, but the circumstances of the find in combination with the design of the smocked dress and the box led to the assessment that the coffin had been hidden at the end of the eighteenth century or during the first half of the nineteenth century. The research team gained

Figure 2.5.1 a) The Bringetofta coffin (150 × 60 × 60mm); b) the inside of the Bringetofta shroud (approx. 300 × 550mm). The stains on the fabric indicate where the foetus was located. (a) Albin Hovlin, Jönköpings läns museum (Sweden); (b) Anders Andersson, Kulturmiljö Halland (Sweden).

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access to the find in 2020. Osteological analysis of the relatively complete mummified human skeletal remains concluded that it miscarried early in its second trimester, in week 13. The coffin is in good condition with no signs of past damp, soiling, staining or biological attack on interior or exterior surfaces. Based on the age of the foetus at death, it had been selected to accommodate the foetal body size. The plain-weave fabric’s quality points to it being the product of household textile production. There is no evidence of it having been specifically re-purposed for use as a shroud. It is extensively crumpled from being wrapped around the foetus and squeezed into the small coffin. On the interior face of the smock is a large area with rust-coloured discolouration – probably fluid or blood from the foetus – as well as adhered fragments of bone and dried-out tissue.9 In 2015, during architectural restoration works on the parish church (1831) in Gällared, a small lidded wooden box (107 × 68 × 53mm) was discovered in the crawl space just beneath the floorboards (Figure 2.5.2a).10 Unaware of the possible significance of the box and its contents, workers on site removed its lid revealing a piece of folded cloth (Figure 2.5.2b), which was found to be wrapped around fragments of mummified human foetal remains (cartilage and skin). The find was handed over to the county archaeologist at Kulturmiljö Halland, and the research team was able to study the find. Since the coffin had been opened and the textile shroud removed, it was possible to study the contents individually. Visual and microscopic analyses concluded the foetus was miscarried in its first trimester, in week nine, making it possibly one of the youngest ever reported to be recovered from an archaeological context (Maltin et al., 2021b). The coffin is crudely constructed

Figure 2.5.2 a) The Gällared coffin (107 × 68 × 53mm); b) the folded and c) unfolded Gällared shroud (147 × 85mm). (a) Albin Hovlin, Jönköpings läns museum (Sweden); (b) and (c) Elizabeth E. Peacock, NTNU University Museum (Norway).

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but, based on the age of the foetus at death, was made to measure. Although discoloured and dusty on its exterior, it shows no signs of past damp, soiling, staining or biological attack on the interior. The off-white rectangular textile shroud (147 × 85mm) – a regular diagonal 2/2 twill of medium quality in undyed cotton – is intact, free of soiling, and in good condition. The raw edges are straight and were scissor-cut prior to being turned under and fastened. Its quality points to it being handwoven and most likely the product of household textile production. There are two small circles coarsely embroidered next to one another on the fabric.11 The interior face of the burial shroud is lightly stained along one half – probably fluid from the foetus (Figure 2.5.2c). The preserved skeletal remains were stuck with dried connective tissue to this face in approximate anatomical arrangement. The light staining indicates that the foetus was washed – and perhaps dried – prior to being wrapped. In late summer of 2021, during the renovation of an early eighteenth-century farmhouse in Åkerby, a small, unlidded coffin (360mm) was discovered resting on a timber joist in the space between a ceiling and an upper floor (Runesson et al., 2022). The oval-shaped bentwood box contained the naturally mummified remains of an infant lying on its back in the foetal position and wrapped in multiple layers of textiles (Figure 2.5.3a). The coffin was turned over to the local police and the medical examiner’s office. It was estimated that the child was one to two years old, and radiocarbon analysis of one of the femurs indicated a late eighteenth-century or late nineteenthcentury dating. With a post-medieval date, the tiny individual and its coffin ceased to be police evidence and instead became an archaeological find that now resides in Upplands Museum. The research group was able to study the find in March 2022. The Åkerby find was dusty, complete and intact, but the restricted access to its contents (skeletal remains, coffin, textiles) presented challenges for the team. The wrapped bundle could be lifted out of the coffin but not further disturbed (Figure 2.5.3b). Osteological analysis was able to conclude that the child was not an infant but rather a full-term foetus that died either during or directly after birth. There were no signs of illness or injury; consequently, it was not possible to say anything about the cause of death. The bentwood box is a simple undecorated construction that is intact with no obvious signs of staining on the interior. The time of its construction or use as a coffin cannot be narrowed down because these containers were common in the North Atlantic region from the Middle Ages to the present day.12 All the layers of textiles are soiled, some to such a degree that it was not possible to study them. Ragged edges, tears, worn areas and seams indicate that these were garments or household textiles repurposed for wrapping the deceased child. Three different woven fabrics could be differentiated. One of the fabrics – an undyed balanced tabby in cotton – has a printed geometric pattern of evenly spaced small red triangles. The printed triangle areas are characterized by missing threads, indicating that a component of the red dyestuff is degradative to the cotton fibre.13 The fabric was probably manufactured around the turn of the nineteenth century and possibly imported. Another fabric – an open-weave, self-checked muslin in flax fibre – that covered the baby’s face is associated with the early nineteenth century and might have been made in Sweden. The remaining simple tabby cotton fabric that cushions and shrouds the remains is most likely a household textile product. Finally, there are instances of a raised textile weave pattern on several of the long bones. One fragment in particular, around the edge of one of the femurs, has been studied in situ in the coffin. The positive-cast textile weave pattern resembles that of the textile covering the upper portion of the body. Judging from the intimate proximity to the bone, it is considered the fragment has been preserved by partial permeation by a solution of hydroxyapatite. The fact that two of the textiles were probably manufactured during the early nineteenth century and show clear signs of use or wear prior to reuse makes it likely that the deceased baby 121

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Figure 2.5.3 a) The bentwood box coffin (360mm) with articulated skeletal remains wrapped in several layers of textiles seen from above; b) the textile-infant bundle. Upplands Museum (Sweden).

was wrapped in them some time in the mid nineteenth century. In other words, it is the textile ­evidence – not the coffin or human remains – that is best able to narrow down the date of interment.

Discussion The shrouds contrast markedly between the carefully fashioned Gällared textile, the castoff Bringetofta smock and the jumble of Åkerby textile pieces. Along with the coffins, all reflect conscious decisions about the manner in which the deceased foetuses were treated and arrangements for their emotionally motivated illicit interment. Such burials represent an expression of strategies for managing loss, grief and transition. The burial shrouds witness the nature of and contributed to the preservation of the foetal corpses. The Bringetofta, Gällared and, possibly, Åkerby bodies would have had no gut flora to putrefy upon death nor direct contact with bacteria from soil. They became naturally mummified by the principal mechanism of desiccation. This is indicated by the presence of minute fragments of dried tissue on and the adhesion of the skeletal parts to the burial shrouds, especially the ­Gällared shroud. Together with the natural moisture-wicking properties of the textile fibres, the burial shrouds were well suited to transport moisture, including body fluids, away from the foetal bodies, which contained over 90% water. They will have facilitated the drying out of the soft tissue and brought about relatively widespread desiccation of the corpses. The signs of liquid staining on the shrouds confirm the dissipation of fluids leaking from the foetuses. This would 122

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have been assisted by resting in the wooden coffins and being placed in a cool, dry, above-ground ­environment. Initially, the wrapping of the foetuses in the shrouds would have protected the foetuses from access by insects once in the coffin. With time, they restricted the scattering of the skeletal parts as the bodies decomposed and led to remains retaining the anatomically correct position of the foetal skeleton. The formable textile wrappings protected the bodies, and the rigid wooden coffins – also a kind of wrapping – protected the wrapped bodies.

Conclusion The conservation investigation of the shrouds provided insight into the information such textile artefacts can contribute to burial customs, funerary fashions and an understanding of garments of the period. Furthermore, they elucidated the history and evolution of the burials themselves. In each of these burials, the textiles were instrumental in the preservation of the human remains by natural mummification. Each burial shroud acts as a monitor (marker) of the post-mortem interval and post-depositional environment surrounding the body, revealing taphonomic changes that the find may have undergone during the lifetime of the concealed burial. Furthermore, our team’s study illustrates the information exchange potential of a multidisciplinary approach. Simultaneous study of the skeletal remains, coffins, and historic and religious contexts informed the textile analysis and vice versa.

References Bø, O. (1960). Øskjer i kyrkjemuren [Boxes in the church wall]. Norveg: Journal of Norwegian Ethnology and Folklore Studies, 7, 99–152. Eastop, D. (2006). Outside in: making sense of the deliberate concealment of garments within buildings. Textile, 4(3), 238–255. Eastop, D. (2007). Material culture in action: conserving garments deliberately concealed within buildings. Anais do Museu Paulista História e Cultura Material [Annals of Museum Paulista History and Material Culture], 15(1), 187–204. Hammarlund, L., Kirjavainen, H., Vestergård Pedersen, K. & Vedeler, M. (2008). Visual textiles: a study of appearance and visual impression in archaeological textiles. In G.R. Owen-Crocker & R. Netherton (Eds), Medieval clothing and textiles 4 (pp. 69–98). Woodbridge, UK: The Boydell Press. Javér, A., Eastop, D. & Janssen, R. (1999). A sprang cap preserved on a naturally dried Egyptian head. Textile History, 30(2), 135–154. Lagnesjö, G. (1995). Några tankar om livet efter döden eller vem tog brallorna av Bockstensmannen eller vad handlar egentligen etikdiskussionen om eller [Any thoughts on life after death, or who removed the trousers from the Bocksten man, or what is the ethics discussion really about or]. SFT [Swedish Association for Textile Conservation] nytt XXIX, 7. Londos, E. (1995). Om askegossen från Bringetofta och döda barns begravning [The foetus from Bringetofta and the burial of dead children]. In K. Börjesson (Ed.), Smålåndska kulturbilder. Från kyrkans värld. Meddelanden från Jönköpings Läns Hembygdsförbund och Stiftelsen Jönköpings Läns Museum [Smålåndska cultural images. From the world of the church. Announcements from Jönköpings County Local History Association and Jönköpings County Museum Foundation], 65 (pp. 49–54). Jönköping: Jönköpings läns museum. Maltin, E., Peacock, E.E., Tegnhed, S. & Hanner Nordstrand, C. (2021a). Dolda begravningar av foster i kyrkor under 1700- och 1800-talet: två fallstudier från Sverige [Hidden burials of foetuses in churches during the 18th and 19th centuries: two case studies from Sweden]. META – Historiskarkeologisk tidskrift, 2021, 215–237. Maltin, E., Turner-Walker, G., Tegnhed, S. & Peacock, E.E. (2021b). The concealed interment of a first trimester foetus in Gällared Parish Church (1831), Sweden: age estimation and reconstructed taphonomy. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, 31(2), 273–284. Muñoz-Viñas, S. (2022). Conservation science, conservation practice and the conservator’s knowledge: a naïve exploration. Journal of the Institute of Conservation, 45(3), 173–189.

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Elizabeth E. Peacock Peacock, E., Tegnhed, S. & Maltin, E. (2023). Two Swedish late modern period foetal burial shrouds. In S. Lipkin, E. Ruhl & K. Wright (Eds), Interdisciplinary approaches to textile research of north and central European archaeological textiles: the proceedings of the North European Symposium for Archaeological Textiles. Monographs of the Archaeological Society of Finland, 12 (pp. 259–268). Helsinki: Archaeological Society of Finland. Peacock, E.E. (2007a). Contribution of x-radiography to the conservation and study of textile-leather composite archaeological footwear recovered from the Norwegian Arctic. In S. O’Connor & M.M. Brooks (Eds), X-radiography for textile studies and conservation: techniques, applications and interpretation (pp. 294–301). Oxford, UK: Elsevier. Peacock, E.E. (2007b). Study of archaeological textiles intimately associated with human remains – where is the ethical dilemma? In A. Rast-Eicher & R. Windler (Eds), NESAT IX Archäologische Textilfunde ­[Archaeological textiles] (pp. 12–16). Ennenda: Archeo Tex. Peacock, E.E., Tegnhed, S., Maltin, E. & Turner-Walker, G. (2020). The Gällared Shroud and the preservation of a clandestine early 19th century foetal burial. Archaeological Textiles Review, 62, 152–163. Reeploeg, S. (2013). Reading material culture in the North Atlantic: traditional wooden boxes as intercultural objects. Journal of the North Atlantic, 2013(sp4), 52–60. Runesson, A., Maltin, E., Peacock, E.E., Tegnhed, S. & Hanner Nordstrand, C. (2022). Ett 1800-talsfynd från Åkerby. Ett nyfött barn i en svepask [A 19th century find from Åkerby. A newborn baby in a bentwood box]. In H. Liby (Ed.), Årsboken Uppland [Uppland yearbook] 2022 (pp. 84–97). Uppsala: Upplands Fornminnesförenings Förlag. Stauffer, A. (2005). A study of the conservation problems of archaeological textiles treated with synthetic consolidants. In C. Dal Ri, L. Moser & E.E. Peacock (Eds), Intrecci vegetali e fibre tessili da ambiente umido analisi conservazione e restauro. Incontri di Restauro [Plant weaves and textile fibres from a ­humid ­environment, conservation and restoration analysis. Restoration meetings], 4 (pp. 174–197). Trento: ­Giunta della Provincia Autónoma di Trento, Soprintendenza per i Beni Archeologici. Swan, J. (1996). Shoes concealed within buildings. Costume, 39, 56–69.

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 Members of the Nordic Research Group for Foetal Loss in the Past are: archaeologist Stina Tegnhed, Kulturmiljö Halland, Halland Museum of Cultural History; osteoarchaeologist Emma Maltin, ­Bohusläns Museum and Stockholm University; Professor Emerita Elizabeth E. Peacock, NTNU University ­Museum; historian Dr Anton Runesson, Stockholm University; and, previously, church historian Dr Charlotta ­Hanner Nordstrand, University of Gothenburg. The team reflects a diversity of approaches with each member being crucial to the success of the team’s work. 2 For example, stabilized on site by the application of synthetic consolidants, see Stauffer (2005). 3 Enhanced by observation under raking, ultraviolet and infrared light sources, and x-radiography; see ­Peacock (2007a). 4 Lena Hammarlund is a trained and experienced hand spinner and weaver. 5 See for example Javér et al. (1999). 6 Swan reports that of 1,100 cases of recorded concealed shoes (as of 1995), only 1.9% were from ecclesiastical buildings (Swan, 1996). 7 See for example Eastop (2006; 2007). 8 See Londos (1995) for the initial 1990s study of the Bringetofta find. 9 See Peacock et al. (2023) and Maltin et al. (2021a) for a more detailed description of the 2020 study of the find. 10 See Peacock et al. (2020) and Maltin et al. (2021b) for a more detailed description of the find. 11 It has been suggested these could be laundry marks. Dr Jane Malcolm-Davies, Associate Professor of Textile Analysis, University of Copenhagen, personal communication, 27 May 2020. 12 See Reeploeg (2013). 13 Possibly, this was printed with a cheaper, more acidic process such as ‘chemical red’, which used a ­mixture of tannin, cochineal and alum, thickened with gum, then treated with acid. Dr Philip Sykas, Reader Textile History, Manchester Fashion Institute, Manchester Metropolitan University, personal ­communication, 19 April 2022.

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2.6 TRADITIONAL DRESS* The evolution of exhibition display methods in response to curatorial interpretations Christine Giuntini

Introduction In 1983, The Michael C. Rockefeller Wing (MCRW),1 at The Metropolitan Museum of Art (The Met), was the first of the 17 curatorial departments to initiate regular temporary exhibitions within its gallery space. These departmental installations focused on a single culture, theme, or collection from those parts of the globe covered by the Department’s curators. This active exhibition schedule has provided hundreds of opportunities, over more than three decades, to create exhibition mounts for diverse kinds of traditional2 flat textiles and three-dimensional costumes or garments. In addition to installing exhibitions at The Met, there were also opportunities to collaborate with or work for conservator and curator colleagues at other museums, thus expanding the range of challenging works needing mounts for display and/or storage. The following installation case studies were all projects for which this author had the good fortune to be the principal ‘hands-on’ conservator.

Background The 1980s were a decade that witnessed a refocusing of priorities in the field of textile conservation. In addition to refining treatment protocols for cleaning, stabilization, and mounting for display, the need to view such treatments as but one factor of a long-range preservation philosophy had become widespread. Following the development of the Oddy test in the early 1970s (Oddy, 1973), conservators began to pay closer attention to the composition and quality of materials used in mounts and exhibit and storage cases, as well as to the effects of the museum’s environmental and display guidelines on the wellbeing of its collections. During this time, conservation treatments and installation methodologies carried out on traditional and archaeological textiles and garments from the MCRW collections followed protocols3 that placed a strong emphasis on minimal intervention and the development of optimal storage, handling, and display conditions. Concurrent with conservation developments and with respect to the exhibition of traditional dress, curators continued to evaluate and refine the aesthetic and historic information conveyed to

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museum visitors through display techniques and label information. While a discussion of cultural meanings embedded within an exhibition and the interpretation of these works by western-trained specialists is not the topic of this essay, it should be noted that certain display methods, such as using ‘fashion’ mannequins as supports for non-western garments, were appropriated, and subsequently eschewed by the museum community4 out of respect for the complex issues of culture and race. The evolution of curatorial interpretation of artefacts from cultures beyond the Eurasian sphere of influence has been instrumental in bringing about innovation in the use of mounting materials and display methods.

Installation methodology – early 1980s The Michael C. Rockefeller Wing at The Met opened to the public in February 1982. Its collections, primarily from Africa, Oceania, and the Americas, were formerly displayed at the Museum of Primitive Art in a series of gallery spaces fashioned from the rooms of the converted Rockefeller townhouse. At The Met, the open spaces, high ceilings, and unembellished neutral setting of the new galleries were influenced by modernist aesthetics as developed by René d’Harnoncourt, former Director of the Museum of Modern Art, NYC.5 Although displayed in a thoughtful and abstract manner, these collections became objects lifted out of time, to be admired individually for their formal and aesthetic characteristics rather than their cultural meaning and significance. Included in the Rockefeller Wing installation of about 2,000 objects were textiles and composite fibre objects, including African Kuba prestige panels and overskirts, and a Cameroon masquerade costume. From the Americas, Pre-Columbian garments, feathered textiles, composite fibre/ feather/metal objects, and Native North American weavings were displayed. The treatment and preparation of these artefacts for the new installation, carried out over the preceding years, was the responsibility of the author and other conservators in The Met’s Textile and Object Conservation Departments. Display methodologies were developed, in part, according to the preservation protocols of these two Conservation Departments and stood in contrast to the exhibition methodologies at the Museum of Primitive Art, where textiles and costumes (including archaeological fabrics) were often displayed without vitrines, hung from wires, draped over forms, or used as backdrops for other objects. In the Rockefeller Wing, textiles and fibre artefacts were exhibited in closed cases or individual wall-mounted vitrines. Supports were designed to minimize direct handling during and after the installation. Two installation techniques that minimized handling during this 1980–1981 installation were the Velcro® hanging system, allowing flat textiles and featherworks to be raised to the wall while supported by sealed wood supports, and acrylic6 tubes supporting the shoulders of square-cut garments, which could be handled, rather than the archaeological cloth, during installation. Coincidently, these installation protocols ensured that every textile and garment would be displayed as a flat, two-dimensional field of colour and pattern.7

Installation of an openwork three-dimensional costume as a flat textile A Mambila Leopard Society masquerade ensemble (MMA1972.4.66) from Cameroon posed challenges to this display philosophy. Collected by missionary Paul Gebauer in 1936, this object appears to have never been worn, was probably never exhibited, and thus remained in good condition. Created entirely from substantial two-ply raffia palm cordage using interlooping (single element) and interlacing (two elements) structures, the resulting garment is lightweight and open. The yarns remained strong and elastic. 126

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This ensemble was exhibited in a wall case. While the individual identity of the performer might be shrouded by the costume, the unmistakable shape of a human body would remain visible through the open structure, and the lower legs and feet would be completely exposed. These details would certainly affect the display method, especially when references to the human body seemed at odds with the prevailing installation aesthetic. Discussions among senior staff of the possible methods of installing such a sheer three-dimensional costume have now been lost. What is certain is that this garment would be displayed as a flat textile, legs straight and arms outstretched. Despite its resemblance to an oversize gingerbread man, this presentation did focus the eye on the bold leopard-­ inspired imagery. In the abstract installation, the problem of displaying a sheer fibre garment, without resorting to the mass-produced mannequins then available for museum display, was avoided. A custom-shaped lightweight wood support, faced with archival board and polyester felt, and covered with display fabric, was created. The resilient garment was stitched to the support in a pre-planned pattern to suggest volume without padding while supporting the minimal weight of the object. The full support backing also eliminated direct handling during the installation (Figure 2.6.1). Nevertheless, the display method was not particularly satisfying, perhaps because the flat and splayed orientation converted a flexible three-dimensional object meant to be full of movement and life into something static. This mounting and display solution was never repeated for any other garment or costume in the MCRW collection.

Figure 2.6.1 Studio photograph: Masquerade Ensemble, Leopard Society (Suah Ndeng), Cameroon, ­Mambila, Mbem, or Kaka group. Mounted on shaped support for 1981 inaugural installation in the MCRW, The Met. Twentieth-century, raffia palm fibre, dye. Fletcher Fund, 1972 (1972.4.66). Installation curated by Susan Vogel. Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Photograph Studio.

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Installation of Native American garments In 1983 a loan exhibition of Native American works, Color and Shape in American Indian Art, provided a new opportunity to display flat and tailored garments. For this exhibition, the curator wanted the garments to be presented in a manner that suggested the way they would have been seen when worn, but without any visible references to body parts. The loan included Navajo shoulder blankets, usually displayed flat against a wall like the colour-field paintings to which they were often compared. In response to the request for a livelier display, shaped lightweight wood supports were constructed, sealed, and covered with archival barrier board, polyester padding, and display fabric. A Velcro® fastening system was added to the back of the sloped sides and centre top to hold the garment securely in place. This mounting technique retained the strong graphic imagery of the weaving, while also suggesting its use as a shoulder cloth (Figure 2.6.2). The tailored garments for this exhibition proved to be problematic, as the Textile Conservation Department rarely worked on cut and shaped clothing, the vast majority of which was kept and prepared for display by the Costume Institute (CI) at The Met. Several obsolete dressmaker forms, mounted to stationary steel poles with square bases, were given to the Department of the Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas (AAOA) and were modified for display. The torso forms were customized for each garment and the necks were removed. The neck-less form would prove to be a standard feature of all subsequent mounts described here. Following the CI costume dressing protocols of the time, these forms were fitted with removable arms created from the legs of nylon pantyhose filled with polyester batting and pieces of shaped archival board. To provide a suitable support, dressmaker forms were padded with polyester felt and covered with the elasticized ‘panty’ portion of the hose, pulled over the shoulders of the torso. Archival board ‘aprons’, tied

Figure 2.6.2 Installation view, Color and Shape in American Indian Art, 25 March 1983–3 July 1983. ­ Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Photograph Studio.

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around the waist, were created to support garment skirt-panels. The jerry-rigged nature of these modifications demanded displaying the backs of the garments only. Supported on their bases or from the wall of the case, the forms conveyed a human shape without a visible mount.

Installation of a voluminous robe Subsequent MCRW exhibitions of traditional garments continued this generalized ‘three-­ dimensional’ approach to display, while the mounts themselves were ever evolving as new archival materials became available. In 1987, when the opportunity arose to install a voluminous man’s prestige garment (1987.163) from Cameroon, it was exhibited in the round on a freestanding torso form. In keeping with the Department’s growing emphasis on contextualizing displayed works, a prestige cap (1986.478.60), of a type that could have been worn with the robe, was exhibited alongside (Figure 2.6.3). The torso support, created in 1987, was a more robust and archival version of a dressmaker’s form, upon which it was based. Carved from low-density closed-cell polyethylene foam

Figure 2.6.3 Installation view of prestige gown, Cameroon, Western Grassfields c.1987.  Mounted on a plate-pole assembly with Ethafoam™ torso and archival-tube arm supports in the MCRW, The Met. Nineteenth-twentieth-century, cotton, wool. Purchase, Dr. and Mrs. Sidney Clyman Gift and Rogers Fund, 1987 (1987.163). Also pictured: prestige cap, Cameroon, Grassfields. Mounted on Ethafoam™ with metal wall-mounted support. Cotton, wool. The Bryce Holcombe Collection of African Decorative Art, Bequest of Bryce Holcombe, 1984 (1986.478.60). Installation curated by Kate Ezra. Image © The Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Photograph Studio.

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(Ethafoam™)8 and covered with polyester felt padding and cotton surgical stockinette, several ­variations of this type of support had been independently created throughout the 1980s and 1990s by several conservation labs (see, for example, Niinimaa, 1987). The torso was supported on a custom-made two-pronged steel armature that dropped into a steel pole/base plate support; the steel support added stability by keeping the centre of gravity low. An archival board apron, once again, was added to keep the robe from collapsing around the base pole. The only references to the human body were those areas covered by the garment. The small neck opening was filled with display fabric. Because the sleeves of this type of West African garments are voluminous and heavy, and the curator wished to display them held some distance away from the body of the garment, a soft arm filling could not be used. Instead, the AAOA torso form was fitted with two long archival tubes, inserted into cavities carved into the shoulders and held in place by friction. The cardboard tube ‘arms’ had the added advantage that they could be cut and pieced to create different profiles. These torso supports were both generalized and exaggerated so that the garment, amply filled by the form, demanded attention from the viewer as would have befitted the high-ranking official to whom this robe once belonged. Both the distinctive shape of this West African robe, derived from Muslim-garment antecedents, and the intricate, yet graphically strong embroidery, could be appreciated equally. Working with these new mounting materials, which were easily assembled and shaped, gave rise to possibilities for resolving more complex installation challenges in displaying non-western ensembles encountered during contract work for other museums.

Installation methodology – early 1990s One of the two inaugural exhibitions for the opening of the National Museum of the American Indian’s George Gustav Heye Center at the New York City Customs House was the occasion of exhibiting two rectangular wearing blankets as the three-dimensional garments they were intended to be. All Roads are Good (1 August 1994–1 August 2000) presented a wide-ranging selection of artefacts from the museum’s holdings, chosen by 23 Native Americans. One of the guest curators chose, among other works, two garments, one Salish (144864.000) and the other Navajo (088038.000), to be displayed in her section of the exhibition. It was imperative that these should be shown in a manner that suggested how they are worn. For both, two-part steel armatures were constructed, as described above. Carved Ethafoam™ covered with polyfelt padding and stockinette were used to create two different types of torso forms (Figure 2.6.4). Concurrently, a planned display of African works at the Brooklyn Museum was to feature a multipart masquerade costume that was form revealing and heavy. Archival images inspired the curator to ‘activate’ the costume, suggesting not only how the parts were worn, but also how the body might be seen during the performance (Figure 2.6.5).

Supports for Native American shoulder cloths The Salish weaving was to be mounted to be seen from the back. This display method is straightforward to set up. Once a very basic armless form was carved and covered, the Salish blanket was draped around the shoulders. To hold it securely in position on the form, cotton twill tapes were stitched to each side of the weaving and could be pinned or tied together. An apron of archival board was attached to the back of the torso, supporting the heavy cloth in a smooth and even position over the lower portion of the steel mount. The stiff quality of the tightly woven textile made it easy to create dramatic folds that called attention to the bold pattern. 130

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Figure 2.6.4 Two views of the wrapped torso forms created for All Roads Are Good, c.1994.  Including 088038.000, a Navajo weaving c.1840, wool; and 144864.000, a Northeast-Salish weaving c.1870, goat wool and dog hair. Installation curated by D.Y. Begay (Navajo). Courtesy, ­National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution. Image by NMAI Photo Services Staff, Ross Muir, 2/1996.

However, the Navajo weaving was to be mounted to be seen from the front, and a rather large portion of the torso form would be visible to the viewer. As envisioned by the curator, this form needed to suggest a figure ‘hugging’ the weaving close to the body, which meant creating arms that could be enveloped by the textile while supporting a portion of its weight. This proved challenging, and several attempts at carving and shaping ‘folded arms’ were needed before an acceptable mount was achieved. The dressing of the form was informed by the guest curator. The uncovered chest area was filled with neutral-coloured woven cotton. Approximately one-third of the weaving was folded over to make a deep ‘collar’ around the shoulders of the form. To keep the weaving from shifting or sagging over time, a Velcro® strip was stitched to the inside (as displayed) of the textile. Its mate was stitched to the back and over the shoulders of the torso form. Several cotton twill tapes were strategically added to the inside and outside of the weaving, so the sides could be overlapped and firmly tied together.

Support for an openwork masquerade ensemble A Likishi (Luvale or Chowke) masquerade ensemble with Pwo mask – the embodiment of ideal ­female beauty – owned by the Brooklyn Museum (36.548–553), had been in storage for many years and needed to be prepared for exhibition during 1994. It was quite similar in some of its 131

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Figure 2.6.5 Installation view of Likishi Dance Costume: leggings, rattles, shirt with attached head cover, and Pwo Mask in the African Galleries, c.1995. 36.548-.553 Zambia, Africa; Lovale or Chokwe, late nineteenth or early twentieth century. Fibre, wood, seedpods. (Loincloth is a modern reconstruction.) Curated by Bill Siegmann at the Brooklyn Museum, New York. Image © Brooklyn Museum.

structural details to the Leopard society costume described earlier. Made from tightly twisted twoply raffia fibre cordage and constructed using looping techniques, it was, coincidently, collected in 1936. On open display for several decades, it was moved to storage in the 1970s. Unlike the neverexhibited AAOA costume, the cordage of the Likishi ensemble was dry. Small bits of fibres were shed from the thick yarns when they were manipulated. Yet the tightly twisted cordage remained somewhat elastic and strong, thus able to support its own weight if provided with an internal form. This close-fitting openwork garment was created in three main parts: two individual leggings, each with an attached foot covering, and a complex upper-body garment with attached hand coverings, attached breasts, and a facemask; these last two items were created from carved wood. Additionally, the mask was attached to an elaborate and heavy fibre and resin coiffure. All elements were tightly integrated into the shirt-like form. Rattle attachments were tied to the legs. Like the Leopard Society garment, the close-fitting, yet open structure of the fabric shrouded individual identity while revealing the human form. Once all the old mounting materials were removed, it was obvious that the limp costume parts would need a multipart internal support to appropriately display the entire ensemble. The proportions of the arms and legs suggested that another garment9 once bridged the gap between the leggings and the upper-body garment. A search of museum records was unable to locate 132

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any missing item; however, a photograph given to the museum by the collector of the ensemble was found in the museum’s archive. It documented the costume being ‘performed’ 60 years earlier. This active posture was thought to be likely to engage viewers to examine this complex ensemble more closely. Even with careful planning, creating the mount meant there would have to be several stagings or fittings of the costume as the individual supports were built. At the beginning of this project, there were many discussions about the inevitable stress and loss of fibres due to friction during the fitting process. Also discussed were options for supporting the wood attachments so that their weight was transferred from the garment to the mount. The talents of a skilled metal mount-maker were indispensable for such a complex project, and the resulting mount was a close collaboration between the conservator, curator, and the mount-maker. Built from the feet up, the armature was designed so that each individually dressed and/or supported section – legs/feet, torso, arms/hands, and head – fitted together with a brass rod and sleeve system. These pieces were held in position with set screws, which had to be thoughtfully positioned so access would not be blocked by the garment or by other pieces of the mount. The deck of the exhibition case was fitted with a metal sleeve to accept a rod from one of the legs. Since the bottoms of the feet coverings were worn away, it would be easy to access the undersides. A second rod, to stabilize the heavier upper body garment and headpiece, was added from the back of the armature to the wall of the case. Again, custom-made supports for each of the individual parts of the costume were fabricated from Ethafoam™ and fitted around the metal armature, then padded with polyester felt. To reduce friction on the dry fibres, these forms were covered with a slick dark-brown rayon fabric.10 The individual supports were dressed and then assembled into a sturdy and animated whole. Since the heavy coiffure and wood mask could not be detached from the upper-body garment, they needed a mount that was first fitted into the head cavity and then locked into the torso armature. The arms also had to be fed into the costume prior to placing the garment on the torso form. The open structure allowed easy access to the set screws, allowing the individual parts of the upper body to be assembled into the whole. This open structure also allowed the wood attachments, such as the breasts, to be supported by brass ‘pins’ inserted into the foam torso support, thus relieving stress on the fibres. The mount was created so it can be removed from display and stored in either one or two sections.

Conclusion The display of traditional garments from Africa, Oceania, and the Americas as abstract two-­ dimensional forms was strongly embedded in art museum exhibition methodologies through the 1970s. During the 1980s and 1990s, as different types of information were conveyed to museum audiences, other display styles began to supplement this approach. Today, curators and consultants from descendant communities tend to privilege display formats that accurately present cultural information. Conservators’ evaluation of the object’s condition and the exhibition’s environment, design, and length, may need to be balanced against a stakeholder base who sometimes have mandates which conflict with preservation protocols. Additionally, budgetary and staffing concerns can limit a conservator’s (and curator’s) choices. Conservators have learned to remain flexible and to consider intangible meaning embedded in objects when considering display options. In retrospect, the evolution of the now ubiquitous style of generalized and minimal three-­ dimensional mounts for traditional garments appears obvious, but it was not always so. Like the two-dimensional and abstract display method, it avoids having to deal with contested concepts of ethnicity or race, while allowing the suggestion of how such garments would have been worn. Most 133

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of the mounting strategies described here remain standard protocols today and are not sui generis. All were, in part, informed by the prevailing conservation methodologies of the era. ­Although original in some facets of their design and construction at the time, discussions with ­colleagues have revealed that similar problems find similar solutions. In addition, the further working and refinement of nascent mounting methodologies allow them to blossom into distinctive display styles,11 an unending evolution.

Acknowledgements Conversations with conservator colleagues have helped shape solutions to a variety of installation issues. Chief among these are Nobuko Kajitani, Ken Moser, Ellen Pearlstein, Chris Paulocik, and Marian Kaminitz. The skill and insights of several mount-makers must be acknowledged, especially Sandy Walcott and Nicolas Economos. Finally, the unfailing support of the curators responsible for these objects has allowed these treatments to proceed: Susan Vogel, Julie Jones, Kate Ezra, D.Y. Begay, and William Siegmann. Ellen Howe made helpful suggestions to previous drafts. Emily Kaplan was instrumental in providing an updated image of the All Roads Are Good exhibition. This essay is, in large measure, a ‘remembered’ history. Although care has been taken to maintain accuracy, errors may be discovered. I am responsible for these.

References Errington, S. (1998). The death of authentic primitive art and other tales of progress. Berkeley: University of California Press. Goldberger, P. (1982). Architecture: primitives in space. The New York Times, 3 February, pp. C1 & C4. Kajitani, N. (1977). Care of fabrics in the museum. In J.C. Williams (Ed.), Preservation of paper and textiles of historic and artistic value. Advances in chemistry series 164 (pp. 1161–1180). Washington DC: ­American Chemical Society. Niinimaa, G.S. (1987). Mounting systems for ethnographic textiles and objects. JAIC, 26(2), 75–84. Oddy, W.A. (1973). An unsuspected danger in display. The Museums Journal, 73(1), 27–28. Vogel, S. (1982). Bringing African art to the Metropolitan Museum. African Arts, 15(2), 38–45.

Notes * Published in 2010, revised in 2024. 1 Known as the Department of Primitive Art from 1982 to March 1991, subsequently The Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas through 2018. 2 For this revised essay, ethnographic has been replaced by traditional to characterize garments/costumes of the autochthonous and Indigenous peoples whose art and artefacts are housed in The Michael C. Rockefeller Wing. Unresolved discussions concerning the word ethnographic continue. 3 In large part, Nobuko Kajitani, Conservator-in-Charge (1966–2003), Textile Conservation, at The Met developed these protocols for flat and three-dimensional textiles and fibre works. During the 1970s, in the Textile Conservation Department, one purpose of a condition examination was to develop a long-range preservation plan for the artefact. Her publication (Kajitani, 1977) is among the earliest in the conservation literature to identify conservation treatment as but one component of an all-encompassing museum preservation philosophy. This approach has become a foundation of best practices, finding a wide following among conservators and other preservation professionals. 4 For example, Masterworks from the Museum of the American Indian, an exhibition held at The Met, 18 October 1973–31 December 1973, exhibited a selection of unaccessorized Plains dresses on high fashion mannequins.

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The evolution of exhibition display methods 5 The Museum of Primitive Art (MPA) was located at 15 West 54th Street, New York City, ­facing MoMA’s sculpture garden. The collections were transferred to The Met in 1978 and 1979. See also: https://en.wikipedia. org/wiki/13_and_15_West_54th_Street and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rene_d%27Harnoncourt. 6 Acrylic glass is a generic term for PMMA = poly(methyl methacrylate), a clear, amorphous, thermoplastic with good aging qualities, sold under a variety of trade names. 7 Julie Jones, Curator-in-Charge, AAOA, personal communication, 12 December 2008. See also: ­Goldberger (1982), Vogel (1982), and Errington (1998: 67). 8 Ethafoam™, manufactured by SealedAir (https://www.sealedair.com/). For ease of carving this tough material, 2.2- or 4-pound densities are often chosen. 9 A loincloth, clearly visible in the field photograph and which appears to be a factory-woven and printed trade cloth, was apparently not collected with the rest of the ensemble. After discussion with the Brooklyn Museum staff, it was re-created from cotton fabric. 10 This fabric passed an Oddy test carried out at the Brooklyn Museum. 11 For example, Woven by the Grandmothers; Nineteenth-Century Navajo Textiles from the National M ­ useum of the American Indian, 1 January 1996–1 January 1997, brought to a wide audience throughout North and South America a greater understanding of how Navajo (Diné) weavings were created and worn.

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2.7 FIT FOR A PRINCESS? MATERIAL CULTURE AND THE CONSERVATION OF GRACE KELLY’S WEDDING DRESS* Dinah Eastop, Bernice Morris This case study sets out to demonstrate how a material culture approach can enhance understanding of conservation, using Grace Kelly’s wedding dress as an example. The wedding of the American actress Grace Kelly to Prince Rainier III of Monaco in the Catholic cathedral of Monaco on Thursday 19 April 1956 was one of the international media events of the 1950s. The bride was a famous Hollywood actress who had starred in many popular films, including High Noon (1952), Rear Window (1954), To Catch a Thief (1955) and High Society (1956). She was a famous beauty whose influential dress style inspired the ‘Grace Kelly Look’. It is hardly surprising that her engagement and wedding attracted extensive and long-lasting public interest. The wedding was filmed by the Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer (MGM) Studios and was watched on television by an estimated 30 million people. The wedding dress was a gift from MGM, the Hollywood studios to which Grace Kelly was contracted at the time of her engagement. The dress was designed by MGM’s head costume designer, Helen Rose, who claimed that a ball gown from High Society provided the starting point for the design. Grace Kelly wanted the dress to be traditional, with long sleeves and a high neckline. ‘Helen Rose’s design for the dress and accessories is perfectly in keeping with the classic simplicity for which Grace Kelly was known, and which inspired the “Grace Kelly Look”’ (PMA, 2006; Figure 2.7.1). MGM reported that the making of the dress and accessories involved 35 craftspeople. According to Rose, Grace Kelly had greatly endeared herself to the studio’s wardrobe department, and they all wanted the dress to be a masterpiece. The team worked for weeks under top-secret conditions before details and sketches of the dress were released by MGM two days before the cathedral ceremony. Within 24 hours, fashion firms in New York were copying the dress. The day after the wedding, photographs of the royal bride made the front page of newspapers around the world (Haugland, 2006). In June 1956, her parents presented her wedding attire to the Philadelphia Museum of Art (PMA). The donation, arranged in advance of the wedding, acknowledged that many had hoped the ceremony would take place not in Monaco, but in the Kelly family’s ‘home town’ of Philadelphia. The dress and accessories were immediately put on prominent and open display, surrounded by flowers, on a mannequin designed to look like Grace Kelly. Before installation the mannequin DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-17136

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Figure 2.7.1 Sketch of Princess Grace’s wedding dress, drawn by the designer, Helen Rose. Philadelphia Museum of Art: Gift of the artist, 1963, 1963-221-1.

proved to be too big, and the dress had to be let out by 2 inches (Haugland, 2006). The opening event was like a surrogate wedding reception; museum visitors could perhaps imagine they were guests at the wedding. After one month the dressed mannequin was moved to the museum’s Fashion Wing, where it was displayed for the next two decades inside a museum case. The dress was removed from display in the 1970s while the galleries were renovated; concerns about its condition meant that the dress has never been returned to permanent display. During the 1980s and 1990s the dress featured in special exhibitions, both at PMA and in occasional loan exhibitions, but otherwise remained at the PMA in environmentally controlled storage first on its mannequin, and then after 1995 in a custom-built archival cardboard box. Major conservation was carried out in 1995, when the bodice received a new tulle lining and was returned to its original dimensions. Several conservation treatments have been undertaken since, notably for the 2006 anniversary exhibition in Philadelphia, Fit for a Princess: Grace Kelly’s Wedding Dress and for an exhibition to mark the 25th anniversary of her death, The Grace Kelly Years, at the Grimaldi Forum, Monaco in 2007 (Figure 2.7.2). The latter treatment is outlined below.

Material culture in textile conservation A material culture approach examines the interactions of the material and social. Textile conservation decisions occur in social contexts, and understanding the decisions is facilitated by analysing 137

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them within their social and cultural contexts. While the physical environment and its effects on museum collections are well understood and extensively published, the effects of the social dynamics of conservation on practice remain poorly understood. This is despite some notable publications (e.g., Odegaard, 2000; Clavir, 2002). Material culture studies integrate understanding of the material properties of objects with their social attributes and symbolic associations (Miller, 1994). A material culture course developed at the Textile Conservation Centre (TCC), University of Southampton, UK, proved effective in integrating understanding of the social attributes and physical properties of museum collections (Lennard & Brooks, 2008). The course encouraged participants to recognize that ‘heritage conservation’ is one outcome of changes in physical, social and political environments: changes in the physical state of objects and the uses to which they are put. It also helped participants to recognize that conservation is part of a large, dynamic ‘cultural heritage’ sector (Pye & Sully, 2007; Jones & Holden, 2008). The material culture approach advocated here looks at the process of conservation by examining the interaction of people, objects and language (Eastop, 2006).

Case study The following account focuses on those parts of Grace Kelly’s wedding attire which were affected by the conservation interventions of 2007.

Figure 2.7.2 The wedding dress as displayed in Monaco in 2007.  © Grimaldi Forum Monaco/Guillaume Barclay, 2007.

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Object record The wedding dress, pair of shoes, prayer book, and head piece and veil are preserved at PMA (Acc. No. 1956-51-1, 2, 3 and 4). The focus here is the dress, simply described as a tight-fitting, long-sleeved bodice, with a high neckline, made of rose-point lace, with a full, rib-weave silk (faille) skirt and lace train. The dress has four separate parts: bodice, skirt, cummerbund and train insert. The bodice and skirt are of complex construction (see diagrams in Haugland, 2006: 72–76). The bodice, made by assembling motifs from an old piece of rose-point lace and re-embroidering them over silk gauze so that no seams were visible, is fitted with a strapless, boned under-bodice, a boned skirt support and a silk slip. The ‘bell-shape’ skirt, cut without folds at the front, is made with heavy pleats at the sides and back. Two petticoats were attached to the skirt at the waistband: a foundation petticoat of nonwoven interfacing with ruffles of nylon net attached, and a petticoat of silk taffeta which served as a smoothing layer between the faille skirt and the foundation petticoat (Figure 2.7.3). Further shaping was provided by the skirt support, consisting of a 14-inch-long silk taffeta base with nylon net and lace ruffles and metal and synthetic boning. The two petticoats and the skirt support were designed to ensure that the dress achieved the desired silhouette.

Figure 2.7.3 Detail of the centre back opening and under-structures of the skirt, after treatment in 2007. Image by Joe Mikuliak, courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

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Presenting problem and condition assessment Even before the dress was displayed in the temporary exhibition arranged at PMA in 2006, its condition was of serious concern to the PMA conservators. The skirt linings had many splits, losses and abraded areas, and any handling caused further splits in the taffeta. The smoothing petticoat was in a similar condition. The non-woven interfacing that lined the foundation petticoat had begun to break down and had lost much of its structural integrity. The skirt support attached to the bodice had become limp and misshapen. In this condition, the petticoats and linings were not providing sufficient support to the skirt to create the original shape. In addition to these obvious structural issues, the faille of the skirt and the lace of the bodice had yellowed. These changes in the condition of the dress result from a combination of inherent and external factors, including its complex construction, the use of old materials for some components and exposure to light (Haugland, 2006: 66). Also, the dress was designed to be worn for a single event.

Conservation strategy The appearance of the dress was considered to be of fundamental significance, both by the museum’s curatorial team and by the public. The objective was to re-establish as far as possible the skirt’s much-admired ‘bell-shape’ of 1956. Evidence was provided by the dress itself and by its many representations in sketches, photographs and film. It was clear that short-term measures, such as placing tissue paper and wadding between the layers of the skirt, would exacerbate condition problems. The public’s expectations as well as the curatorial desire were that the dress should look as close as possible to its 1956 appearance. Some visitors to the exhibition in 2006 noted that the wedding dress, which was originally ivory-coloured, appeared yellowed. The mythic quality of the fairy-tale wedding, the iconic status of the dress and the longevity of memories and images of the wedding appeared to have combined to make some visitors believe that the dress would be in good-as-new condition; they were therefore disappointed by the material changes of half a century. A group of curators and conservators was given the task of determining the conservation strategy. They recognized that the dress was never going to look precisely as it did on the wedding day but acknowledged the intense interest and emotions shown by the public for the dress when assessing its conservation needs. As Grace Kelly’s wedding dress is by far the best-known object in the PMA’s costume and textile collection of over 30,000 items, it was expected that it would continue to be popular, and so conservation interventions were required to be long-lasting. A ‘minimal intervention’ approach was considered inappropriate in this case as it was unlikely to be effective. An adhesive overlay treatment that would retain all original material in situ was initially proposed for the skirt linings and petticoats. However, questions about its long-term strength, and whether it would add unwelcome bulk to the skirt, meant this option was rejected. A ‘replacement option’ was finally selected, involving undoing original seams in the skirt and removing and replacing the skirt linings and the smoothing petticoat, as well as supporting the foundation petticoat and the bodice’s skirt support.

Conservation interventions of 2007 The skirt was thoroughly documented before any elements were removed (PMA, 2007). The white crepeline loose support, part of a conservation intervention of 1995, was removed. Documentation included diagrams of the linings’ positions at each pleat, and the type of stitching used. Coloured threads were used to mark important points such as where the linings’ seams and edges met the faille. 140

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The skirt linings were removed by snipping and removing the original stitching threads which allowed them to be eased away. Tracings were taken of the linings, and creases, folds and stitch holes were carefully noted. These and information learned from making a muslin toile enabled exact replicas of the linings to be made. Silk taffeta was found that closely matched the colour, sheen and the presumed handle and weight of the original. The new linings were placed in the same positions as the old linings and stitched into place with polyester thread. Hand-stitching was used instead of the original machine-stitching. Where possible, the new stitching was worked through the original stitch holes in the faille. The removal and replacement of the smoothing petticoat were carried out in a similar way. Some stitching at the waistband needed to be released in order to remove the petticoat and position its replacement. This was well documented, and all removed material was retained. The foundation petticoat was degraded and unable to perform its original function of providing firm support to the skirt. It was therefore given a full support of thin, polyester, non-woven interfacing. The inner seams of the original interfacing provided a strong area onto which the full support could be stitched; all stitching was carried out using silk thread. The seam allowances of the support were covered in silk ribbon to protect the delicate silk slip, against which the support brushes when the dress is on display. With the thread markers, photographs and written documentation as guidelines, the skirt was reassembled. The skirt support attached to the bodice was itself supported with a new boned under-­ structure, made with polyester satin and polyester boning to fit under the skirt support when it was slightly flared out. This under-structure was then stitched to the underside of the original skirt support at the strong, layered net seams. Slits in the silk slip were supported with patches of colour-matched silk and laid couching worked in fine silk thread. Loose areas of lace on the veil were re-stitched. The conservator of the dress (Morris) ended the treatment report of 2007 by stating that she had never carried out such an interventive treatment before, nor has she since (Figure 2.7.4).

Condition after the treatment of 2007 The condition of the skirt was stabilized. Vast improvement was made both structurally and aesthetically: the replacement of the linings and the smoothing petticoat, and the full support of the foundation petticoat, enabled the distinctive ‘bell-shape’ of the skirt to be achieved. The dress was made safe for the short-loan exhibition in Monaco (Figure 2.7.4). Further travel and exhibition will have to be carefully considered as the lace bodice remains inherently weak. The dress is currently stored in the PMA’s new compacting storage facility. The components of the dress are laid on a large tray to limit creasing. Although admittance is limited, the tray can be pulled out to give a good overall view of the front of the dress with no handling required. Haugland’s 2006 book was written in part to provide details of the history and the construction of the dress, which reduces the need for handling. The original linings and smoothing petticoat have been preserved and are stored nearby for easy access; they will be given a full support of silk crepeline secured with a solvent re-activated adhesive.

Material culture and the dress This discussion attempts to tease out the interactions between the material and the social. Textile conservation is seen as a process happening over time rather than as isolated events happening at fixed times. The approach encourages questions about the process, e.g., why has this particular 141

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Figure 2.7.4 Conservation in progress in 2006–2007: Morris stitching lace on the train insert. Image by Andrea Nuñez, courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

object been selected for conservation, and why at this particular time? Why are these particular people involved? What are the cultural values and beliefs motivating which participants? Why have certain decisions and interventions been considered and not others? Some of these questions are considered below.

Where? Philadelphians are proud of Grace Kelly. A Hollywood star and daughter of a self-made Philadelphia millionaire, she made arrangements to donate the dress to the PMA well before the wedding, and the donation was made shortly after it (Haugland, 2006). By donating the dress to the distinguished art museum, the garment, albeit an exquisite wedding dress, was turned into a work of art. Viewed as a metonym of the wearer, the gift of the wedding dress also enabled part of Grace Kelly to remain in her home town.

Why? The dress was conserved because of its great significance for the history of dress and fashion and because it is one of the most popular and beloved objects in the PMA collection (PMA, 2006). It is important as an icon linking the American dream of hard work with the social success of marriage, both romantic and dynastic. The symbolic progress of the dress connects the body of a popular daughter of Philadelphia to the fantasy of Hollywood fashion and film and the realities of a European royal family (Harris, 1991 [1957]). The title of the book accompanying the 2006 exhibition 142

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names this transformation: Grace Kelly. Icon of Style to Royal Bride (Haugland, 2006). Thus, the dress was conserved for its artistic qualities as well as its importance for social history.

When? The wedding occurred at the height of the Cold War, April 1956. In July the Soviet Union suppressed the Hungarian uprising. The international distribution of the wedding, via MGM’s media network, TV and photojournalism, and of representations based on the wedding dress, can be seen as successful promotions of the American dream. This was continued with each replay of the celluloid wedding, when the transformation from Hollywood star to European princess was renewed. Grace Kelly continued to be in the public eye and much admired during her 25 years as Princess Grace of Monaco. In 1982 she died in a car crash in the mountains of Monaco at the age of 52. Her early and tragic death reinforced the mythic power of the fairy-tale. Public interest in Princess Grace and her family continues. The exhibition in 2006 marked the fiftieth anniversary of the wedding. Despite the weak condition of the dress, public demand for an anniversary exhibition in Philadelphia overcame initial reluctance to exhibit it, and the conservators found a way to make it safe and pleasing for this temporary display. The loan exhibition to Monaco in 2007, to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of Grace Kelly’s death, led to the conservation intervention described above.

How? The museum professionals appointed to select a conservation intervention had to consider the relative importance of recapturing or reinstating the original ‘look’ of the dress versus preserving all its original materials in situ. Presenting the dress as close as possible to its ‘as new’ effect, the ‘fairy-tale’ come true, was more important than preserving the materials per se. Material changes were considered acceptable parts of the conservation strategy if they allowed the original appearance of the dress to be recaptured or reinstated, which explains the replacements. What mattered about the linings and the petticoats was their ability to provide the skirt with the desired shape and smooth surface. If the ageing of the materials used for these under-structures meant they no longer retained their original properties, the significance of their materials was less important than their original effect: what they did was considered more important than what they are. This led to replacement as an appropriate conservation intervention. It is now unusual for textile conservators to remove components and substitute them with non-original material. Such substitution is common practice in other conservation disciplines where functionality is paramount, e.g., in working clocks and vehicles. The intervention of 2007 needed justification because the professional ideology of conservation has moved from an interventive to a more preventive approach. A material culture view of conservation allows a usually uncontested professional ideology to be questioned and allows for different ideologies to be acknowledged and taken into account. In this intervention, conservation principles were applied to meet the material and social conditions prevailing in 2007 and those predicted to apply in the foreseeable future. Articulating these principles demonstrates how professional principles are socially determined (Eastop, 2009). A material culture approach also gives space for analysing the language of conservation. Such analysis remains rare, despite a pioneering study by Drysdale (1999), possibly because language is taken for granted and so its importance goes unrecognized. In the above account the term ‘preserving’ has been used to denote the retention of original materials, while the terms ‘recapturing’ and 143

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‘reinstating’ are used to refer to the interventions made so that the dress can be displayed looking as close as possible to its appearance in 1956. ‘Preserving’ is used to stress the retention of materials, while ‘re-capturing’ or ‘reinstating’ stresses the capture or return of something that had been lost, in this case, the smooth ‘bell-shape’ of the skirt. The term ‘restoring’ has been deliberately avoided because it now sometimes has negative connotations. Brief consideration of the language of conservation not only draws attention to changes in ideology, but also highlights that it is hard to convey material properties in words. The materiality of the dress and its conservation, though readily experienced in practice, is presented and therefore understood in terms of text or images. The object record and the treatment report are attempts to convey the physical properties of the dress and the materials added during conservation, and the physical processes of conservation. A material culture approach allows for recognition of the multiple and competing viewpoints of the people involved (e.g., Eastop, 2000). Increased awareness can foster greater discussion of options amongst a wider group of ‘stakeholders’ and consideration of a wider range of options. In the case of the conservation of Grace Kelly’s wedding dress, a material culture approach helps to identify the social and environmental forces involved. The interventions of 2007 enabled the dress to meet the role attributed to it: to preserve, present and represent an icon of continuing regional, national and international appeal.

Conclusion Conservation has tended to focus on technical questions related to material properties and environmental conditions, sometimes influenced by issues related to aesthetics and functionality. There is less focus on the social environment, which is a fundamental but seldom recognized feature of conservation practice. When the social is considered, it is often viewed as secondary to the science of physical change. For the social to be taken as relevant as the technical, both the changing physical and social environments must be taken into account. Methods are needed which explore the interactions over time of the physical and the social. A material culture approach, which analyses the process of conservation by examining the interaction of people, objects and language, provides a means of recognizing and exploring the interactivity between the material and the social.

Acknowledgements We thank the Philadelphia Museum of Art for permission to publish, and Kristina Haugland and Sara Reiter, both of the PMA, for their critique of an earlier draft. We also acknowledge the help provided by Dilys Blum and Monica Brown at the PMA, and David Goldberg.

References Clavir, M. (2002). Preserving what is valued: museums conservation and first nations. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Drysdale, L. (1999). The language on conservation: applying critical linguistic analysis to three conservation papers. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, Lyon (pp. 161–165). London: James and James. Eastop, D. (2000). Textiles as multiple and competing histories. In M.M. Brooks (Ed.), Textiles revealed. Object lessons in historic textile and costume research (pp. 17–28). London: Archetype. Eastop, D. (2006). Conservation as material culture. In C. Tilley, W. Keane, S. Kuechler, M. Rowlands & P. Spyer (Eds), Handbook of material culture (pp. 516–533). Oxford: Sage.

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Material culture and Grace Kelly’s wedding dress Eastop, D. (2009). The cultural dynamics of conservation principles in reported practice. In A. Richmond & A. Bracker (Eds), Conservation: principles, dilemmas and uncomfortable truths (pp. 150–162). Oxford: Elsevier. Harris, T. (1991 [1957]). The building of popular images. Grace Kelly and Marilyn Monroe. In C. Glendill (Ed.), Stardom: industry of desire (pp. 41–44). London: Routledge. Haugland, H.K. (2006). Grace Kelly. Icon of style to royal bride. New Haven: Philadelphia Museum of Art in association with Yale University Press. Jones, S. & Holden, J. (2008). It’s a material world. Caring for the public realm. Demos. Available from: https://www.demos.co.uk/files/Material%20World%20-%20web.pdf Lennard, F. & Brooks, M.M. (2008). Looking forward, looking back: revisiting the development of interlinked conservation and curatorial Masters programmes – a further perspective. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2008, New Delhi (pp. 109–115). New Delhi: Allied. Miller, D. (1994). Artefacts and the meaning of things. In T. Ingold (Ed.), Companion encyclopaedia of ­anthropology (pp. 396–419). London: Routledge. Odegaard, N. (2000). Collections conservation. Some current issues and trends. Cultural Resource ­Management (National Park Service, USA), 5, 38–41. PMA (Philadelphia Museum of Art) (2006). Museum offers rare look at Grace Kelly’s wedding dress. PMA press release, 13 January 2006. PMA (Philadelphia Museum of Art) (2007). Examination and treatment report 1956-51-1. Unpublished ­report, Philadelphia Museum of Art. Pye, E. & Sully, D. (2007). Evolving challenges, developing skills. The Conservator, 30, 19–38.

Note * Published in 2010.

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2.8 THE CONSERVATION OF THREE PAINTED SOFT SCULPTURES BY MIRKA MORA* Three different outcomes Sabine Cotte Introduction French-born artist Mirka Mora (1928–2018) moved to Australia in 1951 and became a major figure in Melbourne, as an artist, a teacher and a celebrity. Her artistic production over 60 years offers a breadth of materials and techniques, including a large production of painted soft sculptures, now in relatively bad condition. From the author’s PhD research, done in close collaboration with the artist (Cotte, 2016), we know that Mora’s sculptures are drawn directly with paint on flat fabric, machine-sewed, filled with foam or plastic beads, and either stitched closed or closed by a glued cardboard base. They are coated semi-rigid with very fine liquid plaster, then painted with a mixture of oil paint/stand oil/dammar varnish or with commercial casein paint (Plaka), the latter often without a ground layer (Cox, 1974; McGrath, 1978; Mora, 1984).1 The research, recounted in a book (Mirka Mora, a Life Making Art, Cotte, 2019), focused on Mora’s idiosyncratic modes of making and their significance in the broader social context of the time. The following three case studies were part of this research and informed by this perspective. The case studies suggest practical ways to display soft sculptures during their limited lifetime, keeping issues of significance, access and social value to the forefront. Applying models of decision-making in conservation to three different sculptures produced different outcomes (all sanctioned by the artist) according to their physical condition, their type of ownership, their originally intended role, and their present and future function. Two decision-making models were combined. Eastop (2009) identifies the stakeholders and the brief (the owner’s expected outcomes of the conservation process) and determines a point of historical significance by investigating the object’s biography (Kopytoff, 1986). Taylor (2014) examines – for an object or site – who gets what type of access, and when and how they get it. In each case study, the chosen point of significance and the type of access to be provided together determined the treatment decision.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-18

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Interventive treatment: Lady with Horns Description and context Lady with Horns (Figure 2.8.1) is a small (300 × 200 × 60mm) freestanding soft sculpture, ­featured in Mora’s book Love and Clutter (Mora, 2003: 92). Painted on both sides (awake/sleeping), it represents a lady with two long striped horns and a tartan skirt which is yellow (awake) and blue (sleeping). The paint layer is matte and thin, probably Plaka, extensively used by Mora at the time. The sculpture is stuffed in an unusual way: the upper part is filled with synthetic foam, the skirt with plaster, visible on the base. Although not unique, it is not very common in Mora’s production. The sculpture belonged to Mora until 29 April 2015 when she donated it as a treatment sample, requesting to see the final result and promising to sign it if happy. The ethical conflict was limited: the donation was small, damaged, and specifically for research. Conservation could trigger renewed interest and enhanced value for her sculptures, as well as pedagogical value in future professional publications.

Condition Due to the foam stuffing’s ageing – it loses volume and becomes crumbly with time – the upper part of the sculpture had partly collapsed. The same had happened to the horns, which had creased and fallen downwards. This had caused cracking, flaking and numerous paint losses, leaving the fabric visible. The photograph in the book (Mora, 2003: 92) does not show the horns’ sagging, indicating some degradation since 2003. The surface was dirty and abraded in many places. The plaster-stuffed skirt was in good condition, only showing grime and light abrasions.

Decision-making process Stakeholders In this case, the stakeholders were conflated: the owner was the conservator, with a mission to conserve, which simplified the process.

Figure 2.8.1  Lady with Horns before conservation: left, showing the bust collapsing backwards and large paint losses; right, the sculpture from the side. © Sabine Cotte.

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Brief It was an oral agreement rather vague in its wording: to please the artist. The author’s research with Mora provided a solid base for assessing the significance, the challenge being to convince her of the benefit of conservation treatment.

Point(s) of historical significance The criteria for assessing the sculpture’s significance were: period of creation, place in a collection, time of conservation, context of display and its role in that context. Mora located the sculpture’s creation between 1971 to the late 1980s, the period during which she made soft sculptures (Mora, 2000). She did not mention any specific meaning, other than it being part of her visual surroundings and witness to this period. With its new ownership, the sculpture could become more public. In light of these considerations, two points of significance were retained: time of production and moment of conservation.

Time of production This method of filling is not typical for Mora, who did not use plaster very often.2 Another example is held in Heide Museum of Modern Art in Melbourne.3 In both cases, tensions between materials have caused damage. At the time, artists in Victoria were encouraged to work with the community in schools or workshops; Mora explained that she constantly tested new ideas to keep her students interested, but rarely pursued them in her artistic production. This ‘experimental’ sculpture illustrates this point.

Moment of conservation Mora wished her sculptures to be in better shape. She called them ‘dolls’, evoking a desire for tactile contact. Her attitude had changed over time from being almost careless to wanting them to be displayed and handled with care. Collectors are unsure whether they can be conserved or not, due to their fragility and their status between artworks and toys. Therefore, this treatment became a demonstration of how conservation can add value to objects considered undisplayable, promoting conservation in general through these very popular artworks.

Treatment proposal, replica When asked, Mora was not opposed to adding extra filling to her sculptures to regain lost volume.4 Unfortunately, as in all her freestanding sculptures, no final stitches could be undone to re-open it; they were filled through the base, subsequently closed and sealed with cardboard, or in this case plaster. The sculpture’s alteration gave the means of access: where paint losses had occurred, the raw fabric stood uncovered; it could be cut locally as an entry point for filling, then filled and toned. In this way, the sculpture could stand again on its own without any external support, as originally intended. As this proposal was quite interventionist, the treatment was first tested on a replica before making the decision for the original, in line with current conservation practice (Ormsby & Barker, 2015). Making this replica brought to light the many technical constraints faced by Mora, which explained why she rarely used plaster filling as it was heavy and did not allow sculptures of complex shape. The replica was manually squashed and folded to cause flaking (a much more severe 148

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‘damaging treatment’ than happens in reality), then cut, refilled, closed and toned. The treatment was aesthetically satisfactory and considered safe for the original with minor adjustments.

Treatment The sculpture was lightly cleaned and the loose flakes secured with acrylic adhesive.5 In the waist’s largest area of paint loss, a 10mm slit was cut in the exposed fabric, providing an entry point for refilling. Very small quantities of acrylic wool were inserted, using a thin bamboo stick, until the volume was satisfactorily recovered. Smaller slits were cut at the base of each horn to allow refilling, then all openings were sealed with adhesive to prevent fraying; the losses were coated with liquid stucco and in-painted with watercolours to match the surroundings. To keep the ‘homely used’ aspect, only the largest abrasions on the body were toned down. The sculpture can now stand on its own without collapsing, is cleaner, with no large losses apparent, but retains a patina of age (Figure 2.8.2). Though remaining inherently fragile due to its long horns, it can be handled with care, without damage.

Discussion Mora was very happy with the result, commenting with some incredulity ‘it’s like I had just finished it!’,6 which I hoped referred to the time just before damage. Her reaction showed that the conservation work respected her artistic intent. She liked the fresher look, the fact that the doll could now proudly extend its horns (she explained that horns are a symbol of strength) and stand tall, in comparison to its previously bent look, and the fact that there were no more losses to the paint surface. Many small losses were left untouched though, which highlights how differently ‘losses’ was understood: for the artist, ‘visually disturbing losses’; for a conservator, a more literal meaning. Mora’s attitude confirms that recovering just sufficient meaning for the artwork to retain its original and ongoing significance (Muñoz Viñas, 2005: 55) is an accurate approach. Conservation responds to demands to address change (Eastop, 2009: 30); in this case, the response related

Figure 2.8.2  Lady with Horns after conservation: left, the ‘awake’ side; right, the ‘sleeping’ side. © Sabine Cotte.

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to material and social concerns. The material degradation was addressed while attempting to retain the social and historic role of the doll, defined as: - - - -

A companion to be looked at and to be handled; An experimental moment (plaster and foam combined for stuffing) in Mora’s career; Evidence of Victoria’s community arts culture of the 1980s; Evidence of Mora’s exploration of a theme across a range of techniques (horned figures appear in paintings, drawings, soft sculptures, embroideries); - A donation (under the condition of treatment); - An example of ‘artist’s sanctioned’ conservation treatment. Like any choice, this one is debatable; however, it preserves the doll’s past history with its multiple meanings and associated relationships, enabling it to be passed on. This would have been lost in a more minimal treatment presenting the doll in its weakened structural condition. Access is a mission increasingly included in conservation’s goals, such as ‘public engagement, outreach and inclusion’ (Saunders, 2014: 7). In terms of access, the situation can be described as: a fragile object (what) came to the conservator’s ownership (who), during a collaborative research project with the artist (when and how). The choice was made to restore the structural integrity of the object (what) by interfering with its material integrity (how). This choice resulted in a conserved object that can now be handled (who, what, when and how). How many people do so (who) will depend on the ­future life of the object, but the possibility has been opened for renewed access and interactions with this object (when and how). Finally, being the subject of a case study in a book adds another layer in the soft sculpture’s history, communicating it to a larger audience than the initial two ­people and opening new perspectives for its future interpretation.

No intervention: Dancing Girl on the Sea Description and context The sculpture (Figure 2.8.3) is a four-headed creature with an oval body, from which two short hooved legs and a long and spiky tail emerge. An angel with open wings is painted on both sides of the body. The fabric is not coated, the paint is probably casein. This relatively large piece (700 × 490 × 100mm) had belonged to a private collection but was donated to Heide Museum, in the hope that it would be conserved. With the donation came a copy of a drawing by Mora published in 1976,7 representing a very similar creature. The unknown date of the sculpture is probably close to that of the drawing. Mora said that ‘not all drawings let themselves become sculptures’ (Mora, 1984); this one probably belongs to the successful category, and its theme fits her production of the time. Given its very poor condition, Heide Museum was inclined to keep it only as archive.8 The museum agreed to consult Mora on the conservation issue, reserving their right for the final decision.

Existing condition Most of the paint layer has fallen off, with traces remaining locally, indicating that the original layer was thick and matte. The tail seems unfinished, with the original blue drawing visible and no trace of colour; traces of vivid colour appear on the birds’ heads, long necks, legs and hooves. The central part only retains the ghost of the angel, impregnated in the fabric. The articulations 150

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Figure 2.8.3  Dancing Girl on the Sea. Private collection, Melbourne. © Sabine Cotte.

of the legs, tail and necks are creased and loose due to the shrinking of the filling. As a result, the sculpture could not be handled safely.

Decision-making process Stakeholders The stakeholders were the original owner (a private individual), the then owner (a public collection), the artist and the conservator. All recognized that the work’s condition was not compatible with display in a public collection. However, advice differed concerning potential options. While a private individual and an artist have their personal intellectual framework, public collections and conservators are bound to operate within ethical guidelines (AICCM, n.d.; ICOM, n.d.), which discourage extensive recreations of works of art, except in specific contexts.

Brief The brief was contradictory, matching the competing stakeholders’ narratives (Henderson & Nakamoto, 2016). Although with legally only consultative value, the original owner wished the sculpture to be repainted, returning it to a ‘new’ appearance erasing visual effects of time. The museum did not seek treatment at this point but was happy to get further insight into Mora’s opinion on its conservation, contributing to its continuing relationship with the artist.

Point of historic significance This is one of many examples of Mora’s matte painted dolls and shows her facility to translate her drawings in three dimensions. The angel illustrates the layering figures that Mora used in her 151

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paintings from the late 1960s and the fluid circulation between her various technical processes. Its actual condition provides information about Mora’s creative process, such as evidence of drawing on the tail and the absence of render, as well as about its material fragility. Therefore, the point of historic significance was determined as the time of donation, in the current degraded state.

Artist’s consultation When the author brought the sculpture to Mora’s studio, her first reaction was that it should be repainted, because she did not like to see her sculptures in a damaged state. But, when asked, she admitted that she was unwilling to do this, having moved on from this period. Her next suggestion was that the conservator should repaint it. However, there are few indications about the original surface colours, what is left being mostly the drawing. When this was pointed out, Mora said that she trusted me to do something in the spirit of her soft sculptures. She was evidently trying to find a quick solution to the problem, without anticipating ethical questions. She was also made aware that a conservator would not feel comfortable doing this, which did not seem to impress her. At this point, it became necessary to share with her some of the overarching issues that arise in conservation practice, such as authenticity and authorship, which are not always part of artists’ preoccupations. Should such an intervention take place, the extent of the existing damage would have led to extensive re-creation work, directly pointing to these essential issues. This did arouse her interest. Upon reflection, Mora admitted that should a conservator recreate the doll, she could no longer feel the sole author, which was unacceptable for her. She therefore concluded that the only satisfying solution was to do nothing but document it. As it was the solution favoured by both the museum and the author, consensus was reached.

Treatment In this case, the treatment consisted of documenting the object and the decision-making process with the date, for future reference.9

Discussion This case highlights the ethical limits of conservation, articulating the difference between conservation and re-creation. With Lady with Horns, there was no doubt about the authorship and authenticity of the conserved sculpture. With Dancing Girl on the Sea, the amount of work necessary to regain a satisfying aesthetic appearance was deemed incompatible with both the ethics of conservation and the question of authenticity. While this dilemma may elicit different answers according to context (Beerkens, 2007; Giebeler & Heydenreich, 2016), Mora as producer of the work made it clear that her role could not be substituted. In its current condition, the sculpture provides valuable information on the artist’s technique, on the impact of display conditions upon its physical state10 and on what the artist considers unacceptable change over time.

Preventive conservation: display/storage stands Context and description The author used reconstructions of dolls to provide solutions for the display and long-term storage of fragile sculptures. This allowed trial and error without risk for the original works. The samples 152

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mimicked the main issues: structural fragility – resulting in a flat display, which is contrary to the original intention11 – and restricted visual access to both sides. Heide Museum showed some dolls lying flat in window cases in Mora’s 1999 retrospective, as well as in her 2011 and 2014 exhibitions. The author’s personal experiences of handling the sculptures highlighted the difficulty of doing so safely, because of their lack of self-support and the fragility of articulations. Two groups of samples were made, all painted on both faces and none freestanding: two acrylic-painted sculptures, and one oil-painted sculpture. The acrylic-painted are a large angel (460 × 270 × 40mm; Figure 2.8.4) and a mermaid (400 × 180 × 60mm). The oil-painted (240 × 80 × 50mm) represents a standing bell boy, both sides differently coloured.

Existing condition The mermaid and angel were intentionally under-stuffed with acrylic wool; one wing and leg of the angel were sagging, and the mermaid was badly creasing. The bell boy was structurally sound, but if shown flat, only one face was visible, the characteristic display dilemma for Mora’s sculptures.

Decision-making process Stakeholders The stakeholders are potential public and private collectors of soft sculptures.

Brief and point of significance Gathering viewpoints revealed people’s perception of the dolls’ condition, how it affected their interaction with them and potentially altered their significance. Heide Museum and Mora’s gallery would like to display dolls more often, because people love to see them. Likewise, private collectors who have not chosen a ‘museum-like’ display deplore the state of their dolls and would like to see them repainted.12 For simplicity, the significance was placed at the present time for all sculptures. The brief was to mitigate issues of fragility and access by designing display stands that would become storage devices, providing constant support to structurally unsound dolls and allowing access to both faces without damage. The main goal was to prevent unnecessary movement, which can be damaging to the paint and cloth, in a sustainable manner. The support had to allow handling without causing any tensions to the fabric and paint layer; this could be achieved if only the support is handled. The supports had to be versatile, able to be partially disassembled without affecting the dolls’ material integrity, and stored with them into simple storage trays, ready to be reassembled for display. Lastly, they should allow visibility of both sides, preferably in a manner sympathetic to the character represented.

Treatment The design was made in collaboration with a framer colleague, Louise Bradley. A transparent and rigid acrylic sheet (2mm thick) was cut to the shape of the doll, slightly smaller to avoid visual disturbance. The doll was attached to the cut shape by transparent silicone tubing (diameter 1.3mm) at strategic points to correct sagging and provide maximum support. A small acrylic sleeve was glued onto the shape’s reverse. An acrylic rod was inserted into this sleeve, its other end inserted into a wooden base (Figure 2.8.4). 153

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Figure 2.8.4 a) Angel sculpture before treatment, with sagging wing and leg; b) angel sculpture attached to its acrylic support and stand; c) the second face of the angel sculpture, showing the acrylic support and rod; d) angel sculpture in storage, still attached to its support. © Sabine Cotte.

This allowed the doll to be displayed standing up, fully supported without sagging, with both faces visible (one through the acrylic). The wooden base and the rod are easily disassembled and fit within a storage tray with the object (Figure 2.8.4, bottom left). The materials, colours and size of the base and rod can be changed according to taste, and desired display (higher or closer to base). Silicone tubing is placed where most needed for support while trying not to be visually intrusive. For the mermaid, a transparent acrylic sheet was bent as a cradle base, its depth calculated to both support the doll and allow flat storage in a tray next to the sculpture. The mermaid is a frequent theme in Mora’s oeuvre, and this is an easy and aesthetic solution to display these figures in a ‘realistic’ way, while allowing support along the entire length as well as visibility of both sides.

Discussion This case focused on preventive conservation and is intended to provide long-term access to objects that otherwise would rarely or not be viewed because of their condition. As these suggestions for display and storage consider both real and anticipated material changes to the dolls, understanding conservation needs was essential to provide safe means to visual and physical access. These supports are relatively inexpensive, which makes them affordable to private collectors, providing a possibility for long-term conservation of Mora’s soft sculptures that acknowledges their many social locations. All supports were shown to Mora, who appreciated them and gave thoughtful feedback on the design. 154

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Conclusion These three case studies show various options open for the conservation of Mora’s soft sculptures, according to three contexts of ownership, treatment and different physical conditions. Care was taken to consider significance and access in all three cases, and the artist’s sanction was sought and obtained for each case, showing that solutions at both ends of the spectrum are equally valid if well thought through. Mora’s soft sculptures went through creation, acquisition by collectors, gradual oblivion and partial disappearance from the public scene, when she privileged oil painting and they started to deteriorate. This study seeks to prolong their life and therefore their interactions with people, one of conservation’s missions (Henderson, 2020). Uncovering the dolls’ ­­unspoken history, inscribed in their techniques, materials and their meanings, helped inform decision-­making for their conservation (Rivenc, 2016). In this perspective, conservation has contributed to broader access to them in the present and future, bringing benefits to socio-historical research and material culture (Tilley et al., 2006) through a practical engagement with their materiality.

Acknowledgements The author owes thanks to Mirka Mora, William Mora, Anna Mortley, Louise Bradley and Sherryn Vardy for their help with this study.

References AICCM (n.d.). Code of ethics and practice.Available from: https://aiccm.org.au/about/code-ethics-and-practice/ Beerkens, L. (2007). Nothing but the real thing: considerations on copies, remakes and replicas in modern art. Tate Papers, 8. Available from: https://www.tate.org.uk/research/tate-papers/08/nothing-but-the-realthing-considerations-on-copies-remakes-and-replicas-in-modern-art Cotte, S. (2016). Art in the making: Mirka Mora’s techniques and materials, and their meaning in conservation. Unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Melbourne. Cotte, S. (2019). Mirka Mora, a life making art. Port Melbourne: Thames & Hudson Australia. Cox, P. (Dir.) (1974). This film is called Mirka. Videotape, 18 mins. Windsor VIC, Australia: Prahran College of Advanced Education. Eastop, D. (2009). Stuff happens: a material culture approach to textile conservation. Unpublished PhD ­dissertation, University of Southampton. Giebeler, J. & Heydenreich, G. (2016). Blind spots in contemporary art conservation. Results of an interdisciplinary workshop. In E. Hermens & F. Robertson (Eds), Authenticity in transition, changing practices in contemporary art making and conservation (pp. 128–140). London: Archetype. Henderson, J. (2020). Beyond lifetimes: who do we exclude when we keep things for the future? Journal of the Institute of Conservation, 43(3), 195–212. Henderson, J. & Nakamoto, T. (2016). Dialogue in conservation decision-making. Studies in Conservation, 61(sup2), 67–78. ICOM (n.d.). Code of ethics. Available from: https://icom.museum/en/resources/standards-guidelines/ code-of-ethics/ Kopytoff, I. (1986). The cultural biography of things: commoditization as process. In A. Appadurai (Ed.), The social life of things: commodities in cultural perspective (pp. 64–92). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. McGrath, S. (1978). A doll’s pavilion. The Australian, 30, 8. Mora, M. (1984). Mirka Mora interviewed by Barbara Blackman. Oral History Project. Sound recording, restricted access. Canberra: National Library of Australia. Mora, M. (2000). Wicked but virtuous: my life. Melbourne: Penguin. Mora, M. (2003). Love and clutter. Melbourne: Penguin. Muñoz Viñas, S. (2005). Contemporary theory of conservation. New York; London: Routledge. Ormsby, B. & Barker, R. (2015). Conserving Mark Rothko’s Black on Maroon 1958: the construction of a ‘representative sample’ and the removal of graffiti ink. Tate Papers, 23. Available from: https://www.tate. org.uk/research/tate-papers/23/conserving-mark-rothkos-black-on-maroon-1958-the-construction-of-arepresentative-sample-and-the-removal-of-graffiti-ink

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Sabine Cotte Rivenc, R. (2016). Made in Los Angeles, Lucy Bradnock with Rachel Rivenc. Voices of Contemporary Art (VoCA) Journal, 8 June 2016. Available from: http://journal.voca.network/made-in-los-angeles/ ?platform=hootsuite. Saunders, J. (2014). Conservation in museums and the inclusion of the non-professional. Journal of ­Conservation and Museum Studies, 12(6), 1–13. Taylor, J. (2014). Recontextualising the ‘conservation versus access’ debate. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2014, Melbourne. Paris: ICOM. Tilley, C.Y., Keane, W., Kuchler, S., Rowlands, M. & Spyer, P. (2006). Handbook of material culture. ­London: Sage.

Notes * Published in 2024 1 Mirka Mora, interview with Sabine Cotte, 19 August 2013. 2 Almost all the soft sculptures observed in Mora’s studio are stuffed with foam or beads; the plaster experimentation did not seem to satisfy her as much as the other techniques. 3 Untitled (doll) circa 1975, bequest of Barrett Reid, 2000. System ID: 2000.111. Heide Museum of Modern Art, Melbourne. 4 Mirka Mora, interview with Sabine Cotte, 19 August 2013. 5 Plextol B500. 6 Mirka Mora, personal communication, 28 September 2015. 7 Mora produced several illustrations for the poem The Marine Graveyard, by P. Valery (1976, translation from French by Ian Reid, Meanjin, 35 (3), 265–271). Mora dedicated a copy of this drawing to the original owner of the sculpture, giving it her title. 8 Conversation with Katarina Paseta, Registrar at Heide Museum of Modern Art, May 2014. Email from Kendrah Morgan, 18 March 2016. 9 Since then, the work has been de-accessioned and returned to the private owner due to storage constraints (conversation with K. Morgan, 2018). 10 The same collection includes works in good condition and discoloured works hung in full daylight in the window; therefore, display conditions seem to be determinant in this soft sculpture’s degradation. 11 Mora’s dolls were originally displayed hanging from the ceiling with a string, to give access to both sides. Mora keeps hers in prams and showcases, showing one face at a time, the other one being easily accessible by handling. She has roughly repaired some of them with packing tape. In private collections, the display varies from simple nails supporting the dolls on the wall to individual showcases. 12 C. Gantner, interview with Sabine Cotte, 10 April 2014; M. Walicka, interview with Sabine Cotte, 13 ­December 2013.

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Conservation and community partnerships

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OVERVIEW During the twenty-first century, conservation has become increasingly attuned to the important relationships between individuals, communities, and cultural heritage collections. This focus has led to more intentional consideration of intangible values and conservation ethics, as discussed in Chapter 2. It has also led to increased collaborations between conservators and communities. These conservation and community partnerships have been profoundly influenced by social activism led by Indigenous communities and the Black Lives Matter movement (Balachandran, 2016; Narkiss, 2022). While these partnerships represent an important evolution in our field, the concepts have deep roots in textile conservation. Conservators working with private clients might discuss how an heirloom baby’s gown could be preserved for future generations and also be used for important ceremonies. Conservators working with fine art collections might talk with contemporary artists to ensure that the creator’s intentions and goals were recorded and prioritized for current and future treatments. Community members and individual conservators have frequently initiated these partnerships. Recognition from professional organizations and major institutions have followed; their statements and publications have broad-reaching positive impacts. The Indian Arts Research Center at the School for Advanced Research in the US has spent decades working with various museums. Their Guidelines for Collaboration have separate sections for communities working with museums, and museums working with communities (IARC, 2019). The 2021 digital workshop From Conservation to Conversation: Rethinking Collections Care hosted by the Museum am Rothenbaum Kulturen und Künste der Welt virtually gathered an international group of speakers to consider more collaborative practices (Fekrsanati & Schimmeroth, 2023).

Captured collections in colonial institutions  Many museum collections include objects that were taken from source communities during colonial regimes and conflicts. While these collections are theoretically held in trust for the general public, members of source communities may have limited access, especially in cases where objects are now geographically remote from their origins. Equally troubling, the institutional collections care standards may be fully or partially incompatible with source community standards for care. Museums and conservators are increasingly aware of these challenges. In the UK, the Museum Ethnographers Group revised their repatriation guidelines and created A Repatriation Resource, which is open access (Museum ­Ethnographers Group, 2019). In the US, the Smithsonian Institution expanded its repatriation and shared stewardship work to include a formal policy of ethical returns (Smithsonian Institution, 2022). Discussions about repatriation and decolonization are ongoing, and the case studies in this chapter detail recent collaborations. A seminal text that investigated how conservation should consider both the physical and cultural properties of objects was published by Clavir, an ethnographic conservator in Canada. She was involved in requests from First Nations representatives who wanted to use

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museum objects on ceremonial occasions. The First Nations understood the museum objects also belonged to their communities and that they played an important role in maintaining a living culture. Clavir was concerned that these requests caused a conflict of interest with her professional ethical codes, which stressed the preservation of objects. In Preserving What is Valued: Museums, Conservation, and First Nations (2002), she encouraged conservators to question their actions and consider ‘what you do, why you are doing it and who you are doing it for’ (Clavir & University of British Columbia, 2002: 249).  These questions remain relevant today and were thoughtfully considered by authors of case studies in this chapter. The case study by Heald details collaborative work between staff at the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI) and Native and Indigenous constituents, as well as evolving museum practices since the museum opened in 2004. The case study by Te Kanawa, Collinge, Blair and Peranteau describes a ‘people-centred museological approach’ with Māori and white staff from the Museum of New ­Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa (Te Papa) in collaboration with Māori individuals and organizations. These case studies demonstrate how partnerships between conservators and communities are mutually beneficial, and both offer recommendations to aid conservators in such projects. The institutions of NMAI and Te Papa benefit from being geographically accessible to many of their respective community members. Institutions with collections that were taken from more physically remote communities face additional challenges when seeking collaborative partnerships. One such successful partnership is detailed in the case study by Stephens. The Royal Albert Memorial Museum in the UK honoured a repatriation request from the Siksika Tribal Council in Canada. The conservator played an important role in this project, and the case study includes thoughtful comments about how conservation can support repatriation projects. All three of these case studies demonstrate how conservators can take an active and positive role in ongoing work to foster better relationships between colonial museums and Indigenous communities. Through their specialized training and knowledge, conservators can offer valuable insights regarding materials, techniques, and preservation options. However, conservators must also acknowledge the limitations of their expertise in order to be effective collaborators. In each of these case studies, the authors emphasize the importance of listening to community members and using conservation knowledge to support community goals. Another example of a conservation project that was led by community goals is detailed in an article by Fichtner Camp (2021). As an art conservation student, Fichtner Camp developed a research project to answer questions that the Lenape Tribe of Delaware had regarding their historical net-making practices. Based on Tribal requests and ongoing conversations, the project included group visits to view institutional collections, a digital inventory of institutional nets and associated tools, and multiple outreach events and presentations.

Religious, civic, and military collections While the complicated history of colonialism is deservedly receiving increased attention within the cultural heritage sector, there are many other types of important community partnerships. Museum collections contain objects that come from religious, civic, and military contexts. In some cases, these objects may still be used for significant occasions or there may be shared custody between a museum and another organization. For conservators,

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partnerships with religious, civic, and military organizations offer opportunities to support community-centred access and preservation goals. Textile conservators are often called upon to treat sacred or religious textiles – some belong to museums, but many are still in use (Figure 3.0.1). For her MA dissertation, Morris examined the treatment of Jewish ritual textiles such as Torah mantles and Ark curtains to determine whether they warranted special considerations for their handling, storage, and display ‘to acknowledge the objects’ holy qualities and to respect the desires of the Jewish community’. She concluded that there were four areas which conservators should consider: ‘the use of animal products, the combination of wool and linen, work on the Sabbath and festivals, and issues of correct disposal’ (Morris & Brooks, 2007: 244, 245).   Civic organizations often use textiles such as banners during important public events. The publication Diverse Voices, Challenging Injustice: Banner Tales from Glasgow captures a series of collaborative community conversations jointly sponsored by the University of Glasgow, Glasgow Museums, and the Scottish Labour History Society (Figure 3.0.2). The introduction details how the physical presence of the banners can facilitate valuable conversations: By taking banners into community spaces we encouraged a set of discussions to emerge which brought different conversations and knowledge together. This reconnection

Figure 3.0.1  Conserving a Jewish Torah cover. Image courtesy Midwest Art Conservation Center.

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with place gave the banners a new life, inspiring discussions that provided insights on past forms of political organizing as well as informing debates about current political activities in Glasgow and further afield (Featherstone et al., 2021: 5). Two of the case studies in this chapter focus on banners from workers’ organizations. The case study by Rendell, Emery, Scott and Devenport describes a repatriation project where a painted silk miners’ banner from the Beamish Museum was treated for long-term display in its home village. As part of the same project, a replica banner was produced that can be paraded by the community. This highly collaborative project was led by the local colliery banner group and included a museum curator, paintings conservator, textile conservator, and a custom framer. Communities, and the field of conservation, experience changes over time that can lead to different practices for care and use. The case study by van Enckevort, Rumsey and Gillions considers three different projects involving trade union banners at the People’s History Museum. All include discussion of past treatments and recent retreatments. In one project, the local branch of a trade union sought retreatment of a banner that is still used for important events. Conversations between conservators and community members revealed an evolution of expectations; as the community perception shifted to consider the banner as more of a historical symbol, they paraded it less frequently and placed higher priority on displaying it in a glazed case. Informed by their past experiences and collaborative

Figure 3.0.2 A meeting of the Banner Tales team. Some of the banners which featured in the project are on display, including the Peace March Scotland banner from 1982 (blue and white) and the Sechaba Festival banner from 1990, which is from an anti-apartheid movement. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection.

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conversations, the conservators were able to offer more robust support to both the banner and the community. Similar to religious and civic organizations, military organizations often seek to ­balance preservation and use of significant textiles. The case study by McLaughlan, Orbell and Peranteau details treatment, care, and display decisions for two regimental flags that are owned by the New Zealand Defence Force but maintained by the Toitū Otago Settlers ­Museum, where they are on long-term loan. Recent treatments of the flags have revealed the critical role of textile conservation specialists to support community and institutional goals. Comparable to the display of civic banners, the military flags provided opportunities for community stakeholders to share their stories and foster deeper community connections.

Working with artists  The expanding challenges of caring for contemporary art within museums have led to increased consideration and refinement of conservators’ and curators’ collaborations with artists. Various institutions and organizations have created guidelines for how museum staff can partner with artists to better care for contemporary art. The European research and training programme New Approaches in the Conservation of Contemporary Art (NACCA) supports many areas of research including how to bridge the gap between creation and conservation. In the US, Voices in Contemporary Art (VoCA) creates programmes and publications that focus on the intersections of production, presentation, and preservation of contemporary art. Collaborations between contemporary artists and conservators have become more common in the twenty-first century, but there are still relatively few publications about partnerships between artists and textile conservators. In the case study by Barlow, a contemporary artist guided conservators in their work with an artwork acquired by The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Watt’s artwork incorporated repurposed textiles and was made in collaboration with community sewing circles. Her perception of materials and textile processes is fundamental to her artwork, and informed the conservators’ choices for display, treatment, and storage. The valuable yet intangible quality of the artist’s intent was not perceivable through examination of the physical artwork and could only be gained through communication. The case study by Cotte in Chapter 2 is another example of a conservator successfully working with an artist to craft more informed treatment plans.

Conclusion It is vital that conservators ensure that conservation actions are relevant and appropriate by working in partnership with the communities who created and are responsible for the objects. Good conservation arises out of genuine and respectful dialogues with stakeholders, both within and beyond the museum. Compromises are both necessary and positive; they ensure that multiple perspectives are included in our work. As Clavir explains, ‘a more substantive definition of conservation states that its goal is to preserve the meaning of the works as well as their physical substance’ (2002: 56). While open dialogues with stakeholders have become more common and more robust in the twenty-first century, the obligation for conservators to collaborate with communities is well established in professional ethical

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guidelines. Conservation professionals Henderson and Nakamoto conducted a literature review of published cases studies involving stakeholder conversations. They concluded that ‘it may be difficult to step outside the conservation bubble of what seems right and ethical, but genuine consultation with stakeholders will have a positive impact on the conservation of value’ (2016: S-277). A related topic to conservation and community partnerships is the work to foster diversity, equity, access, and inclusion within the conservation profession. Conservators and other ‘museum professionals can serve as co-agents for social and cultural emancipatory change’ (Te Kanawa et al., 2016: 75). This critical work is ongoing at many institutions and professional organizations and is discussed in Chapter 8.

References  Balachandran, S. (2016). Race, diversity and politics in conservation: our 21st century crisis. Confronting the unexpected. Postprints, 44th AIC Annual Meeting. Available from: https:// resources.culturalheritage.org/conservators-converse/2016/05/25/race-diversity-and-politics-inconservation-our-21st-century-crisis-sanchita-balachandran/ Clavir, M. & University of British Columbia (2002). Preserving what is valued: museums conservation and first nations. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Featherstone, D., Hayes, F., Hughes, H.M. & McDonald, I. (Eds) (2021). Diverse voices, challenging injustice. Banner Tales from Glasgow. Glasgow: Scottish Labour History Society. Fekrsanati, F. & Schimmeroth, G. (Eds) (2023). From conservation to conversation: rethinking collections care. MARKK. Available from: https://markk-hamburg.de/files/media/2023/05/MARKK_ CtoC_230504_1_web-3.pdf Fichtner Camp, A. (2021). Casting a wide net: the value of collaboration and outreach with source communities in the analysis of historic Native American fishing nets. Journal of Textile Design, Research and Practice, 9(3), 381–398. Henderson, J. & Nakamoto, T. (2016). Dialogue in conservation decision-making. Studies in Conservation, 61(sup2), 67–78. IARC (Indian Arts Research Center) (2019). Guidelines for collaboration. Facilitated by L. Smith, C. Chavez Lamar & B. Vallo. Santa Fe NM: School for Advanced Research. Available from: https://guidelinesforcollaboration.info/ Morris, B. & Brooks, M.M. (2007). Jewish ceremonial textiles and the Torah: exploring conservation practices in relation to ritual textiles associated with holy texts. In M. Hayward & E. Kramer (Eds), Textiles and text. Reestablishing the links between archival and object-based research (pp. 244–248). London: Archetype.  Museum Ethnographers Group (2019). MEG’s approach to repatriations. Available from: http://www. museumethnographersgroup.org.uk/en/resources/431-meg-s-approach-to-repatriations.html NACCA (New Approaches in the Conservation of Contemporary Art) (n.d.). New Approaches in the Conservation of Contemporary Art. Available from: https://nacca.eu/ Narkiss, I. (2022). Decolonising museum conservation practice: a view from the UK. Studies in ­Conservation, 67(S1), S183–S191. Smithsonian Institution (2022). Smithsonian adopts policy on ethical returns. Available from: https:// www.si.edu/newsdesk/releases/smithsonian-adopts-policy-ethical-returns Te Kanawa R., Tamarapa, A. & Peranteau, A. (2016). Living cloaks, living culture. In M.M. Brooks & D.D. Eastop (Eds), Refashioning and redress. Conserving and displaying dress (pp. 65–78). Los Angeles: Getty Publications. VoCA (Voices in Contemporary Art) (2023). Voices in Contemporary Art. Available from: https://voca. network/

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3.1 PARTNERSHIP IN THE PRESERVATION OF CULTURAL HERITAGE AT THE NATIONAL MUSEUM OF THE AMERICAN INDIAN* Susan Heald Introduction The National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI) works in partnership with Native American communities in the preservation of all aspects of cultural heritage, both tangible and intangible. Expanded views of preservation over the past decades, fuelled by Indigenous activism, international recognition of intangible cultural heritage, United States legislation, and the concept of shared stewardship in caring for collections have made it possible for a museum with NMAI’s mission of partnership to come into existence. The codified recognition of intangible cultural heritage, and of a community’s right to participate in the preservation of their cultural property, by international organizations such as the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural ­Organization (UNESCO) and the International Council of Museums (ICOM), further supports and strengthens NMAI’s mission.

Recognizing intangible cultural heritage and updating ethical codes for the museum profession Intangible cultural heritage can include language, traditional craftsmanship, music and dance, ­rituals, and knowledge of the natural world and the universe. These are considered living bodies of knowledge generally transmitted orally; the minds of the group or community are the repositories for intangible heritage. Increasing globalization, among other things, endangers the continuity of intangible heritage in many regions. A 2003 UNESCO-adopted convention recognizes the importance of these ancient and living traditions around the globe and seeks ways to preserve this irreplaceable knowledge (UNESCO, 2003). The 2007 United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples further addresses the rights to practise cultural and religious traditions through access to geographic sites and ceremonial objects and the return of human remains in articles 11 and 12 (United Nations, 2007).

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In 2004, following the adoption of the 2003 UNESCO Convention, ICOM’s membership a­ ccepted a revised Code of Ethics that included guidelines for the care of human remains and sacred and sensitive materials, which had not been addressed in the 1986 version. The 2004 Code emphasizes the consideration of the cultural protocol of the communities from which the objects originated. This is seen in the sections for ‘acquisition of culturally sensitive material’ (II 2.5), ‘research on human remains and materials of sacred significance’ (III 3.7), and ‘display and exhibition’ (IV 4.3 and 4.4). In each of these sections, the Code emphasizes that the museum professional must consider both professional standards and community interests when making decisions. Section IV of the Code is devoted to collaboration with communities (ICOM, 2017). For a conservator working in the United States, two of the 13 points in the 1994 American Institute for Conservation Code of Ethics (AIC, 1994) address ‘respect’ for communities of origin and use of their cultural property: II. All actions of the conservation professional must be governed by an informed ­respect for the cultural property, its unique character and significance, and the people or ­person who created it. III. While recognizing the right of society to make appropriate and respectful use of cultural property, the conservation professional shall serve as an advocate for the preservation of cultural property. The ICOM Code of Ethics directs museum professionals to consider the perspectives and protocols of each community when deciding how to house, treat, and exhibit objects and further emphasizes collaboration with communities in decision-making. The 1994 AIC Code of Ethics directs ‘informed respect’ and ‘respectful use’ of cultural property, but does not specifically address collaborative input, leaving decisive action to the conservator. AIC’s Code of Ethics is undergoing revision to reflect changes within the profession and society to make it more relevant and inclusive.

US legislation: Native American religious rights and repatriation Before the codified efforts of UNESCO and ICOM, the inclusion of Native Americans in the preservation of their intangible cultural heritage and property dates to several earlier pieces of US legislation influenced by Native activism of the 1960s and 1970s: the American Indian Religious Freedom Act (AIRFA) of 1978, the National Museum of the American Indian Act (1989) and its amendment (1996), and the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (NAGPRA) of 1990. AIRFA was enacted to restore to Native Americans the freedom to practise their traditional religions. Much of the Native American cultural material needed to practise traditional religions had ended up in museum collections, and there was an increasing demand for repatriation of these materials. Eleven years following AIRFA, the US Congress passed the NMAI Act, creating the National Museum of the American Indian as the sixteenth museum of the Smithsonian Institution. The NMAI Act required the Smithsonian to implement an institution-wide policy to inventory, identify, and repatriate Native American human remains and certain cultural items. The following year NAGPRA was enacted to provide a process for the return of Native American human remains, funerary objects, sacred objects, or objects of cultural patrimony to lineal descendants, and culturally affiliated Indian tribes and Native Hawaiian organizations. The NAGPRA legislation required all federal agencies and institutions receiving federal funding to provide lists of their holdings to appropriate Native American groups. This requirement in many cases initiated 166

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the dialogue between Native American communities and museums, which was sometimes contentious, sometimes cordial. The important fact is that the legislation brought recognition to Native American rights and started to foster more collaborative efforts.

Evolving inclusion in preservation In the period between AIRFA and the institution of NAGPRA, there was growing consideration among conservators for the importance of cultural context, the preservation of intangible attributes in culturally sensitive materials, and the potential for involving Indigenous communities in the preservation of their objects within a museum context. This was especially true of conservators working in the American Southwest and North Pacific Coastal regions which include sovereign tribal lands. Miriam Clavir’s publications on balancing western conservation ideology with traditional care requests from communities (1996) and ‘preserving physical integrity with conceptual integrity’ (2002) brought these concepts to a wider conservation audience. In comparing two Canadian Conservation Institute symposia on Indigenous cultural material, one can witness the evolving perspectives and inclusion. The 1986 symposium, The Care and Preservation of Ethnological Materials (Barclay et al., 1988), focused on specific materials such as feathers, skin, and bark. Six presentations addressed ‘conservation in cultural context’ and considered Native American/First Nations communities’ perspectives on preservation and called for more collaborative efforts. Only one presenter was a First Nations representative. The 2007 symposium, Preserving Aboriginal Heritage: Technical and Traditional Approaches, assembled nonNative museum professionals and Aboriginal representatives (many also museum professionals) to discuss the preservation of Aboriginal cultural heritage, both tangible and intangible. Planned in conjunction with a committee of First Nations, Inuit, and Metis representatives from across Canada, half of the presenters were Aboriginal, with Aboriginal participants making up 38% of the symposium attendances (Dignard et al., 2008). Two pages in the conference programme informed symposium attendees on how to observe and participate in traditional ceremonies included in symposium programming. This symposium demonstrated a collaborative effort, encouraging the conservation field to consider and include Aboriginal perspectives. Simultaneously in the mid 2000s, the Association of Tribal Archives Libraries and Museums (ATALM), founded by Indigenous library and museum professionals, started to hold meetings in the American Southwest. ATALM, now an international non-profit organization, maintains a support network for Indigenous programs, encourages collaboration among tribal and non-tribal cultural institutions, and supports cultural sovereignty of Native Nations (ATALM, 2022). The annual meeting has become an international conference focusing on all aspects of cultural heritage preservation and sustenance. Part of the growth in conference size is from non-Indigenous museum professionals working in colonial-based institutions with large Indigenous holdings, including a growing number of conservators.

NMAI’s commitment to shared stewardship The NMAI is a relatively young Smithsonian museum, chartered by the US Congress in 1989 and reborn from George Gustav Heye’s Museum of the American Indian in New York City (Figure 3.1.1). NMAI has over 800,000 items in its collection and is the only national museum dedicated to the Native peoples of North, South, and Central America. The collection is viewed by staff and Native and Indigenous constituents as a living collection linked to existing, thriving cultures. NMAI has included ‘partnership’ within each version of its mission statement over the years: 167

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Figure 3.1.1 The National Museum of the American Indian on the National Mall, Washington DC, eastern façade. National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution.

‘In partnership with Native peoples and their allies, the National Museum of the American ­Indian fosters a richer shared human experience through a more informed understanding of Native ­peoples’ (NMAI, 2019). NMAI updated its collection policy in 2021; a key tenet remains that the museum act as longterm steward of the collection, which essentially belongs to others (NMAI, 2021). In addition to adhering to the Smithsonian’s directive on collections management and standard museum protocols, NMAI’s collections policy acknowledges and respects Native and Indigenous understandings of intangible cultural heritage and addresses policy for intellectual property rights if requested. The collection policy prioritizes access to Native and Indigenous communities through ceremonial loans, long-term loans to tribal museums, and community visits to the NMAI’s Cultural Resources Center, where collections are housed. Public access to sensitive collections may be limited at the request of a community. The policy promotes care and preservation of both tangible and intangible aspects of the collection and emphasizes that preservation should be undertaken in collaboration and partnership with Native and Indigenous communities through shared stewardship. In 2022, the Smithsonian announced the Shared Stewardship and Ethical Returns Policy pertaining to collections unethically acquired under present-day standards, including items stolen, taken under duress, or removed without consent (National Collections Program, 2022). The policy applies to all Smithsonian museums and their widely diverse collections. Each museum, including NMAI, is responsible for updating its collections policy to include implementation of the Shared Stewardship and Ethical Returns directive. 168

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Conservation and collaborations with Native American communities The way NMAI conservators engage with Native communities has also evolved since the establishment of the conservation unit in 1991. Original staff members trained in the 1980s and early 1990s looked to AIC’s 1994 code of ethics, but were directed by the museum’s mission, collections policy, and a founding document, The Way of the People, which defined the collections care goal as ‘maintaining the highest standards of conventional museum practices and services combined with Indigenous ways of knowing’ (Smithsonian Institution, 1991). The report said this intersection would be a closely watched experiment with inevitable successes and failures, which has proved true. These are the goals on which NMAI conservators based their methodology, trying to rectify traditional Euro-American museum practice by aligning conservation methodologies with Indigenous views – with continual self-reflection. Reflections on the history and potential future of conservation of Indigenous cultural heritage are further discussed by the current head of conservation in Conserving Active Matter (McHugh, 2022). In the mid 1990s, NMAI conservators began collaborating more actively with community representatives on conservation treatments for specific objects. Following the 1999 move of staff and collections from the museum’s original storage facility in New York City to the Cultural Resources Center near Washington DC, the consultations shifted from being situation specific to exhibition specific as the Museum prepared for inaugural exhibitions on the National Mall. At times these engagements lead to collaborative treatments with community members. During this transitional period, funding from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation established postgraduate conservation fellowships offering training in NMAI’s collaborative practices, while departmental funding supported Native and non-Native interns interested in conservation. Following the opening of the museum, the conservation department began holding materialspecific workshops with community experts at the Cultural Resources Center and occasionally place-based learning opportunities on traditional homelands to promote a holistic cultural and physical understanding to help direct care and treatment of the collection. With the museum’s collecting focus shifting towards contemporary works by Native artists, conservators started interviewing artists to understand the concept of the work, exhibition requirements, housing, and longterm care needs. When the global coronavirus pandemic halted physical access to the collections, conservators worked with collections-based staff to develop a virtual engagement process to virtually connect community with collections through Zoom. In all types of community engagement, documentation is key to recording community input for collections stewardship.

Object-specific collaborations The author engaged in two collaborative conservation projects in 1996: the conservation of a ­Tuscarora textile with bead loss for exhibition, and the preparation of Siletz regalia to be danced in an annual ceremony. In both cases, collection items were couriered from the museum back to their communities of origin by the conservator. As details of these collaborations have been previously published, only summaries and comparisons are provided here. The Tuscarora collaboration was proposed by Tuscarora guest curator Rick Hill when the beaded cloth was at risk of deselection from the exhibition due to lack of time to stabilize the textile in the conservation lab. The museum staff supported Hill’s proposal and provided a conservator to courier the piece and supervise the work on site. Five expert Tuscarora beadworkers, selected by tribal leaders, worked alongside the conservator during the week-long project. A secure workspace was provided by an art gallery that bordered the Tuscarora reservation in upstate 169

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New York. The original treatment plan to stabilize the extant beadwork was challenged by the beadworkers, who felt that losses in the beadwork would not represent their community, known for its distinctive style of beadwork. The resolution, which required flexibility and compromise on the part of the conservator, ultimately resulted in restoration with extensive documentation. An additional component of the collaboration was the interest and involvement of the local community; stitching work was video-taped and featured at the local school’s Tuscarora culture night, local papers featured the story, and people were invited to observe the ongoing work on the final day (Heald, 1997). The Siletz collaboration involved dance regalia items loaned to the Confederated Tribes of Siletz Indians in Oregon for the dedication of their new dance house – the first built since 1870. The dedication was a particularly important step for the Siletz community in reclaiming cultural identity. This marked the first time the museum loaned collection items for ceremonial use, provided a conservator courier the pieces, assist in their stabilization, and attend the ceremony. Siletz cultural representative Robert Kentta and NMAI conservators selected regalia from the collection that were structurally strong enough to withstand dancing. In collaboration with Kentta and the tribe’s ceremonial dance maker, some regalia were stabilized in advance at the conservation lab. Other components were prepared on site by the dance maker with full conservation documentation. The dance maker dressed experienced dancers with the more fragile regalia, while less experienced dancers were dressed in new regalia (Kaminitz et al., 2005). At the time, the author felt challenged balancing museum standards of the day with community requests for traditional use and care, often placed in opposition to each other. However, these early collaborative experiences, which took place in or near tribal sovereign land and not within a museum, were career-altering in understanding the value of collaboration in the holistic preservation of a community’s cultural heritage and the importance of facilitating access to collections removed from the community. Decades later, there is no hesitation or anxiety in finding the balance – this is simply the way NMAI conservators work. The questioning that remains is: Are we doing enough? How can we work more equitably?

Exhibition-specific conservation consultations NMAI developed the inaugural exhibitions for its museum (opened 2004) on the National Mall in Washington in partnership with representatives from 24 Native communities. The museum worked directly with representatives in all stages of exhibition development, from curatorial concept and exhibition design to conservation methodology. The fundamental aspects of planning and implementing this first group of conservation consultations, published by Johnson et al. (2005), have remained relatively constant for subsequent exhibitions and are applied to collaborative work with communities requesting long-term loans of their cultural material. Some lessons learned from our early consultations for the inaugural exhibitions include the following: keep the group small, and the schedule flexible. Begin with a welcoming meal and allow a private space (without museum representation if requested) for prayer or blessing before and after working with collections (Figure 3.1.2). Ask for permission to record information. Listen. The consultants are the subject experts. Be ready to act upon requests regarding handling restrictions, or housing or display suggestions. Realize that there is some cultural information the conservator may not have the right to know. Conclude the engagement with a shared communal meal and small gifts of appreciation. Ensure that honoraria are promptly dispersed to consultants. Share any notes, images, or recordings with consultants for approval. Nurture relationships that have been established.

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Figure 3.1.2 Machi Gerado Queupucura and Machi Yolanda Curinao (Mapuche) perform a ceremony in the rotunda of NMAI’s Cultural Resources Center during a community consultation for the inaugural exhibition, Our Universes, March 2000.  National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution.

Collaborative treatments with community experts have arisen from exhibition consultations. In several instances, traditional artists from communities performed alterations on ceremonial regalia that had been deemed culturally unacceptable for display in their current condition (Figure 3.1.3). In these cases, the community selected an expert in regalia making who performed the necessary alterations at the Cultural Resources Center, assisted by conservation staff, fellows, and interns, who thoroughly documented the process (Chang & Heald, 2005; Johnson, 2007; Kaminitz et al., 2008). Though the articles cited above may still prove useful, more recent guidance can be found through the School of Advanced Research (SAR), which released two separate but complementary sets of guidelines – one for museums, and one for Native communities to guide parties in setting up collaborative efforts (SAR, 2019). These guidelines, compiled by a group of Native and nonNative museum professionals, are easily accessed for planning collaborative work with a community. SAR’s website includes a link to the Core Standards for Museums with Native American Collections developed in partnership with the American Alliance of Museums (https://sarweb.org/ iarc/smnac/). An Indigenous Collections Care Guide is under development through SAR’s Indian Arts Research Center, planned for release in 2026 after a thorough review by tribal community representative and museum professionals (https://sarweb.org/iarc/icc/).

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Figure 3.1.3 NMAI Curator Emil Her Many Horses (Oglala Lakota), Mellon Fellow Anna Hodson, Textile Conservator Susan Heald, and consultant artist/dressmaker Jami Okuma (Luiseño/ShoshoneBannock) discussing dress (14/7094) during curatorial/conservation consultation for Identity by Design exhibition, December 2005.  National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution.

Material-specific workshops and place-based learning To gain a fuller understanding of materials being prepared for exhibition, loan, or for Mellon fellow research, conservators sometimes host Native and non-Native subject experts at the Cultural Resources Center for material-specific workshops. An example are the engagements held with renowned Tlingit weaver Teri Rofkar (1956–2016), an expert in spruce root baskets and Ravenstail robes. NMAI conservators knew Rofkar through her collections research visits and her 2003 award to NMAI’s Artist Leadership Program, where she generously shared her expertise and enthusiasm. The 2011 workshop originated through textile Mellon Fellow Luba Dovgan Nurse’s research on the condition of Tlingit spruce root baskets with damaging historic tape mends in NMAI’s collection. Rofkar agreed to the workshop if NMAI also invited conservators from regional institutions caring for similarly damaged Tlingit baskets. Workshop goals included establishing a shared terminology between basket makers and conservators, exploring how materials and techniques support functional use, gaining a better understanding of root anatomy through root preparation and microscopy, and discussing future stewardship and conservation of the baskets (Nurse, 2011; Figure 3.1.4). Rofkar also provided demonstrations in Ravenstail and Chilkat weaving and visited Tlingit baskets and regalia in the collection. The following year, six NMAI conservators and Mellon fellows joined Teri Rofkar in Alaska for place-based learning experience funded by the Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies. Rofkar led traditional harvesting excursions for cedar bark used in blanket warp and spruce root used in basketry. She 172

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Figure 3.1.4 NMAI Textile Conservator Susan Heald, Mellon Fellow Luba Dovgan Nurse, and artist/weaver Teri Rofkar (Tlingit) reunite Tlingit Chilkat robe (05/0591) with pattern board (02/9130) during the basketry/robe weaving workshop, May 2011.  National Museum of the American Indian, Smithsonian Institution.

emphasized the importance of place, giving thanks, and perpetuating the health of natural resources so they would be available for future generations of weavers. The trip culminated in Sealaska Heritage’s biennial four-day ‘Celebration’, where newly woven blankets and hats, as well as older repatriated regalia, were proudly danced through the streets of Juneau by Northwest Coast communities. In 2015, conservation’s relationship with Teri Rofkar continued when object Mellon Fellow Caitlin Mahony picked up Luba Nurse’s Tlingit basket research using documentation from the 2011 workshop. Mahony worked with Rofkar to devise a treatment protocol for tape removal, which revealed light, unoxidized root and unfaded dyes. Rehousing strategies emphasized safe handling and visual access to damaged components to help educate a researcher or weaver. Rofkar viewed these damaged baskets as mentors to future weavers and wanted NMAI to make them virtually accessible to community members. She also emphasized continued collaborative work between conservators participating in the initial workshop. Rofkar and Mahony presented their work at the American Institute for Conservation conference in 2016. The postprints capture details from the 2011 workshop, Mahony’s treatment research, and Rofkar’s wishes for future collaborative work between conservators and Tlingit weavers (Mahony & Rofkar, 2016). Conservators partially fulfilled Teri Rofkar’s wish during the COVID-19 pandemic shut-down by virtually sharing Chilkat weavings with Smithsonian Artist Research Fellow and expert weaver Meghann O’Brian (Kwakwaka’wakw/Haida/Irish) using new video equipment and a virtual engagement protocol developed during the pandemic by collections-based staff. 173

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Documenting community engagements Fully documenting community engagements is crucial for correcting the record if items or attributions were previously misidentified, for augmenting the record in providing cultural protocols for handling and access, and for adding identification and descriptors in Indigenous languages. Capturing cultural nuances with an object-centric database is not easy, but it is important to capture as much as the community feels is appropriate to share for future generations. Documentation from NMAI’s early exhibition-driven consultations, detailed by Chang and Heald (2005), conveyed the information amongst NMAI conservators, and documentation from the 2011 Tlingit basketry workshop guided subsequent conservation work, but often the rich information shared during engagements is buried within the conservation record. Efforts are underway to integrate information from conservation’s engagements with communities into the larger collections database for wider access.

Conclusion United Nations declarations, US legislation, and professional ethical codes have all guided NMAI conservators in developing their working protocol, but NMAI’s mission and collections policy provide clear direction and support to work in collaboration and partnership with Native and Indigenous stakeholders to facilitate the preservation of tangible and intangible aspects of the collection. Seeing the collection as living, recognizing ourselves as stewards and facilitators of access to the collection, and realizing that non-Indigenous conservators are not the authorities on the preservation of Indigenous cultural heritage, are all critical to the NMAI conservation work ethic. Methodologies for community engagements promoting partnership will continue to evolve as resources become available and a younger, more diverse generation of museum professionals enters the field.

Acknowledgements Thanks to the many community collaborators who have generously shared their expertise and knowledge with NMAI conservation representatives over the past few decades. Thanks to all the NMAI conservation staff, fellows, and interns who have contributed to our work and NMAI’s mission. Thanks to the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, whose endowment to NMAI supports conservation training opportunities and community engagements, and to the Margaret A. Cargill Philanthropies, for supporting place-based learning opportunities and the community loans programme.

References AIC (1994). AIC code of ethics and guidelines for practice. Available from: https://www.culturalheritage.org/ about-conservation/code-of-ethics American Indian Religious Freedom Act (1978). Public Law 95–341, 42 U.S.C. Association of Tribal Archives Libraries and Museums (2022). Sustaining and advancing Indigenous culture. Available from: https://atalm.org/node/1 Barclay R., Gilberg, M., McCauley, J.C. & Stone, T. (Eds) (1988). Consultation in cultural context. Symposium 86: The Care and Preservation of Ethnological Materials. Preprints, 1988. Ottawa: CCI. Chang, L. & Heald, S. (2005). Documenting and implementing conservation requests from Native communities. Postprints, AIC TSG, 2005, Minneapolis MN (pp. 9–17). Washington DC: AIC. Clavir, M. (1996). Reflections on changes in museums and the conservation of collections from indigenous peoples. JAIC, 35, 99–107. Clavir, M. (2002). Preserving what is valued: museums, conservation and First Nations. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press.

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Partnership in the preservation of cultural heritage at the NMAI Dignard, C., Helwig, K., Mason, J., Nanowin, K. & Stone, T. (Eds) (2008). Foreword. In (n.e.), Preserving Aboriginal heritage: technical and traditional approaches. In Proceedings, Symposium 2007, Ottawa (pp. vii–ix). Ottawa: CCI. Heald, S. (1997). Compensation/restoration of a Tuscarora beaded cloth with Tuscarora beadworkers. Postprints, AIC TSG, 1997, San Diego CA (pp. 35–38). Washington DC: AIC. ICOM (2017). ICOM code of ethics for museums. Available from: https://icom.museum/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/ICOM-code-En-web.pdf Johnson, J., Heald, S., McHugh, K., Brown, L. & Kaminitz, M. (2005). Practical aspects of consultation with communities. JAIC, 44(3), 203–215. Johnson, J.S. (2007). Collaborative touch: working with a community artist to restore a Kwakwaka’wakw mask. In E. Pye (Ed.), The power of touch (pp. 215–222). Walnut Creek CA: Left Coast Press. Kaminitz, M., Kentta, R. & Bridges, D. (2005). First person voice: Native communities and conservation consultations at the National Museum of the American Indian. In I. Verger (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2005, The Hague (pp. 96–102). London: James & James/Earthscan. Kaminitz, M.A., Mogel, B.S., Cranmer, B., Johnson, J., Cranmer, K. & Hill, T. (2008). Renewal of a Kwakwaka’wakw Hamsaml mask: community direction and collaboration for the treatment of cultural heritage at the National Museum of the American Indian. In C. Dignard (Ed.), Preserving Aboriginal ­heritage: technical and traditional approaches. Proceedings, Symposium 2007, Ottawa (pp. 75–85). ­Ottawa: CCI. Mahony, C. & Rofkar, T. (2016). The aftermath of mends: removing historic fabric tape from Tlingit ­basketry. Postprints, AIC Objects Specialty Group & Wooden Artifacts Group, 2016, Montreal (pp. 125–139). Washington DC: AIC. McHugh, K. (2022). Always becoming better stewards: caring for collections at the National Museum of the American Indian. In P.N. Miller & S.K. Poh (Eds), Conserving active matter (pp. 262–280). New York: Bard Graduate Center. National Collections Program (2022). Shared stewardship and ethical returns. Available from: https://ncp. si.edu/SI-ethical-returns National Museum of the American Indian (2019). Mission statement. Available from: https://americanindian. si.edu/about/vision-mission National Museum of the American Indian (2021). Collections management policy. Unpublished document, NMAI. National Museum of the American Indian Act (1989). Public Law 101–185. Available from: https://www. congress.gov/bill/101st-congress/senate-bill/978http://americanindian.si.edu/subpage.cfm?subpage=coll aboration&second=repatriation National Museum of the American Indian Act Amendments (1996). Public Law 104–278. Available from: Text - S.1970 - 104th Congress (1995–1996): National Museum of the American Indian Act Amendments of 1996 | Congress.gov | Library of Congress Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act (1990). Public Law No: 101–601. Available from: H.R.5237 - 101st Congress (1989–1990): Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act | Congress.gov | Library of Congress Nurse, L.D. (Ed.) (2011). Consultation/workshop with Teri Rofkar, May 2–5, 2011. Unpublished document. School for Advanced Research (2019). Guidelines for collaboration. Available from: https://guidelinesforcollaboration.info/ Smithsonian Institution Office of Design and Construction (1991). The way of the people: National Museum of the American Indian master facilities programming, phase 1. Unpublished manuscript, National Museum of the American Indian, Washington DC. UNESCO (2003). Convention for the Safeguarding of Intangible Cultural Heritage. Available from: www. unesco.org/culture/ich/index.php?pg=00002 United Nations (2007). United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. Available from: https://www.un.org/development/desa/indigenouspeoples/wp-content/uploads/sites/19/2018/11/ UNDRIP_E_web.pdf

Note * Published in 2010, revised in 2024.

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3.2 MANA TAONGA* People-centred conservation practice at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa Rangi Te Kanawa, Rachael Collinge, Kate Blair, Anne Peranteau

In May 2022, the celebrity Kim Kardashian wore a second-hand dress to The Met Gala ball – not just any second-hand dress, but a bespoke garment designed by Bob Mackie and made by Jean Louis for Marilyn Monroe for the occasion of John F. Kennedy’s birthday in Madison Square Garden in 1962. The figure-hugging sheer soufflé silk gown, embellished with crystals, was highly customized for her. It was colour-matched to Monroe’s skin tone and the fit required that Monroe be stitched into it. And yet, the dress was loaned to Kardashian by the Ripley’s Believe it or Not! entertainment franchise, which had acquired the dress at auction in 2013 for $4.8 million dollars.1 Had Kardashian simply recycled a dress from a lesser-known source, she may have been lauded for promoting sustainable fashion in a world coping with a pandemic, natural disasters, and climate change. Instead, this act caused controversy. Kardashian was accused of causing irreversible damage to the dress, and there was also concern that this action would set a dangerous precedent. This incident drew attention to the changing nature of practice in the wider museum field. After The Met Gala, the Costume Committee of the International Council of Museums (ICOM) reaffirmed a traditional museological stance, issuing a statement: ‘Historic garments should not be worn by anybody, public or private figures … As museum professionals we strongly recommend all museums to avoid lending historic garments to be worn, as they are artifacts of the material culture of its time, and they must be kept preserved for future generations’ (ICOM Costume Committee, 2022). But this intervention tested the notion of a single collective view on the debate surrounding access and preservation in the heritage field. Subsequent Twitter posts by Te Papa’s Director of Audience & Insights, Puawai Cairns, and ICOM’s Costume Committee highlighted a tension between the claims of international representation on the one hand and a lack of the acknowledgement of different experiences and perspectives on the other. This led the Costume Committee to state, ‘we will revise our statement to reflect the critical work that has been undertaken to find a way towards more responsive and empathetic museum practice’.2 In New Zealand, Indigenous scholars and museum professionals are achieving a ‘Māorification’ of museum spaces (Cairns, 2020). This demands an acknowledgement and respect for the fact that there are different worldviews that inform how objects are valued and cared for. At New Zealand’s DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-22

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national museum, the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa (Te Papa), this is underpinned by the concept of mana taonga. This people-centred museological approach holds that taonga – collections – have agency to give and receive mana (power, authority, status, respect) through interactions with their originating communities. Conversely, communities enact their authority by guiding how their taonga are used and cared for in accordance with tikanga – Māori protocol.3 Whereas preservation and access have at times been presented as diametrically opposed goals in a conservation context, the Te Papa context challenges binary either/or assumptions. While empathetic and humanizing conservation practice is not unique to us, the case studies below aim to give additional insight on what this looks like. Centring communities in decisions around care of cultural heritage treasures, and yielding power to make and implement these decisions, are two aspects of the changing roles of museums. By bringing a humble awareness of ourselves and a willingness to consider different values in our professional interactions, we can achieve a more empathetic conservation practice.

Matariki  In April 2021, New Zealand’s Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern announced a new public holiday: ‘Matariki will be a distinctly New Zealand holiday; a time for reflection and celebration, and our first public holiday that recognises Te Ao Māori [the Māori worldview]’ (Ardern et al., 2021). In Aotearoa New Zealand, Matariki marks the Māori New Year, and is celebrated in the southern hemisphere midwinter, following the rising of the star cluster Matariki (Pleiades). The official launch of Matariki as a public holiday was held at Te Papa. Central to this was the Hautapu ceremony, led by a group of 12 expert cultural practitioners, some of whom would bring their own kākahu (cloaks) to wear for the ceremony. Others requested to use kākahu from the collection in order to lend mana to the proceedings. The cloaks would be worn while the men were standing, at the start of the ceremony, on an outdoor balcony. They would then be removed prior to all participants being seated indoors for the remainder of the event. This was not the first time that conservation had been involved in discussions about the ceremonial use of collection items, for kākahu have been used as part of repatriation events since the museum opened in 1998. Reflecting on the history of this practice, author Dr Rangi Te Kanawa, Te Papa’s textile conservator at that time, comments: It had been challenging to accept the use of taonga kākahu, knowing that [they] can be damaged during handling. Discussions with collection managers and Māori policy developers would hear these concerns, but no change in the practice [was] implemented. The revered cloaks are imbued with traditional knowledge of a people and time that adhered to Te Ao Māori, the Māori worldview. It is also poignant to note that Māori have been disconnected from their culture and their worldview, through the course of colonization for almost two centuries. Being of Māori descent, it is understandable that the connectivity and restoration of pride and identity can be uplifted on such occasions when taonga kāakahu are present, however the museum’s practice in safeguarding taonga challenges these Indigenous values of connectivity and identity. A shortlist of proposed cloaks was prepared for assessment and to ensure that each tohunga, or expert practitioner, who would wear a kākahu from the collection would be wearing one with which they had an iwi (tribe) affiliation. Contemporary and historic garments were included. This shortlist was assessed from a conservation perspective to consider any physical impacts of use. It was crucial that conservators did not work in isolation from other stakeholders. As storage 177

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drawers were pulled out, conservators, curators, and the Iwi Relationships team members shared observations and thinking. This was an opportunity to learn more about the cloaks’ history and significance than might be recorded in the museum database, and in turn, conservators communicated the potential risks based on signs of fragility such as brittle dog skin, shedding black-dyed fibre, and faded or missing feathers. These condition issues were visible to everyone gathered around the taonga. The collaborative assessment process elicited thinking about the purpose of the taonga in view of its finite lifespan – should it continue to be used while it is still possible to do so, or should efforts be focused on preservation, particularly in light of the materials being sourced from species that are scarce or extinct, and techniques that are rarely executed in the same way in contemporary times? Given the unprecedented scale and significance of Matariki in 2022, how likely is it that this would open the door for use at lesser events? Would it be more difficult to decline future requests for different types of events, for different taonga, by different people, in the future? Dialogue, listening, and being present for one another and our collections are key to building the trust and understanding that are at the heart of mana taonga. The walkthrough was a positive and inclusive way of discussing all the factors surrounding the proposed use of the kākahu, and the face-to-face aspect was important for establishing shared understanding of different perspectives among those in different roles. In discussing the Matariki events, conservation offered information about how condition correlated with the risk of damage and loss that could occur if the older kākahu were worn. The possible presence of pesticides was also discussed and assessed.4 Ultimately a position informed by the mana taonga principle places the decision about use with others: stakeholders, be they iwi or whānau (family) or others connected with the taonga. Stakeholders use the information that conservators provide about handling risks and possible damage and, in combination with their own values and judgements, decide if an item should be worn, and how. At the conclusion of the assessments, one older kahu kiwi (kiwi feather cloak) in good condition was selected to be worn, and the three other historic kākahu were not used. Reasons for the latter not being used included evident fading and loss of feathers on one proposed cloak, and the brittleness of the dog skin on the kahu kuri. Along with the historic kahu kiwi from the collection, three contemporary kākahu were also selected for the Hautapu event, some of the latter woven and acquired for the collection with an option to be used on special occasions. A particularly good example of the latter is the cloak called Te Ao Marama woven by Te Kanawa. Her involvement in discussions on the use of cloaks at Te Papa since the late 1990s partly informed the creation of the cloak and the intent with which it became part of Te Papa’s collection, as she describes here: The use of taonga kakahu as functional items influenced my weaving a kakahu named Te Ao Marama, meaning the natural world of life and light. The intention of creating Te Ao Marama was for it to be a substitute for cloaks with aged fibres and vulnerable elements being used for ceremonial occasions. The making of the cloak employed natural materials, traditional weaving techniques and observed customary practices of dyeing, including the black dye source from iron rich mud and natural tannins. The overall checker pattern of contrasting blue pukeko feathers, dotted with kereru feathers woven into a block in alternative arrangement with a novel supplementary weft floating over the kaupapa [foundation], was inspired from an early nineteenth-century feather cloak. An ancient twill weave technique inspired by a decorative narrow side border of the kahu kuri [dog skin cloak], was woven along the hemline of the new cloak. This directive in retaining traditional knowledge and 178

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exposing it whilst the cloak is being used as a functional item allows the knowledge to be readily understood and practised and, importantly, presenting a means of connecting to customary values of the Māori world view. It was pleasing to see Te Ao Marama being worn during the Matariki celebrations at Te Papa. The older kākahu selected is thought to date from the late nineteenth century.5 It is woven in muka (processed fibres from harakeke, Phormium tenax leaf), using a whatu aho rua (double pair twining) technique. The obverse is covered in white and brown kiwi (Apteryx spp.) feathers, attached in alternating rectangles to create a checkerboard pattern. While there are two plied muka ties extending from each top corner of the cloak, it was determined that additional support would be an advantage for reducing the stress placed on the original ties during the Hautapu ceremony. Supplementary plied muka ties were made and stitched to a short length of Velcro® hook tape; these attached to Velcro® previously stitched to the cloak to enable display. This system had the advantage of being adjustable; the supplementary ties could be repositioned to finesse the fit according to the size of the wearer. A fitting was undertaken with tohunga by collection managers, and once the positioning was established, additional stitching was undertaken to firmly secure the lengths of Velcro® together for security. Prior to the ceremony (Wilcox, 2022), collection managers worked with the tohunga to dress each person and to remove the kākahu after tohunga had moved indoors. Following the event, the kākahu was assessed. No noticeable change in its condition was observed. Speaking on the use of collections in this way, Dr Rangi Mātāmua has said, ‘If the objects have no connection to people, they don’t activate the cultural identity heritage response’ (Knox, 2022:  33). The interaction with heritage is viewed as contributing to its longevity, by contributing to the maintenance of relationships between people and heritage, as well as between people and the environment. Kaitiaki (guardian or caretaker) Taonga Collection Manager Moana Parata describes the use of the kākahu: ‘It’s part of keeping those birds and the flax alive. It’s just transforming into another way of being in that relationship with Papatūānuku and Te Taiao [the land and the environment], it keeps it alive’.6

Haki o Te Kooti The treatment of the haki (flag) was completed to enable its display in an exhibition designed and curated by Rongowhakaata iwi, as part of Te Papa’s iwi in residence programme 2017–2022.7 The flag, along with approximately 140 other taonga, was loaned to Te Papa by the iwi. The haki dates from the nineteenth century and is associated with the prophet Te Kooti Arikirangi Te Turuki (1832–1893). It is believed that the red cross on a white ground symbolizes the fighting cross of the Archangel Mikaere (Michael), and that other motifs refer to Te Kooti’s Hahi Ringatu (Ringatu faith); Te Kooti founded the Ringatu church in 1868 (Binney, 1995). Members of Nga Uri o Te Kooti Rikirangi Settlement Trust (The Trust), the governing board representing the descendants of Te Kooti, requested conservation treatment for the flag before inclusion in the exhibition. The Trust indicated that while Rongowhakaata hoped to have their own facility in the future to look after their own taonga, they wanted the flag to be stabilized and conserved by the museum in the short term. In one of the very first meetings, a series of questions were asked of the conservators: How was the flag made? What is it made of? What caused the obvious discolouration and damage? Are the holes the result of armed conflict? Four treatment options were discussed, ranging from minimal conservation to full interventive treatment, and varying in how much evidence was preserved in relation to creasing, previous repairs, and losses. Moreover, the two treatment options that provided for selective loss 179

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compensation differed in the approach taken to the fills, with one option dictating the fills were passive, i.e., attached to the mount, and the other option indicating their attachment to the flag itself. The Trust representatives were not unanimous regarding the desired treatment outcome. Some wanted the flag to be displayed with the damage visible. However, the majority voted for the holes to have some visual compensation, reflecting a desire to demonstrate care and respect for the taonga. Ultimately, a full nylon net support was stitched to the reverse of the flag to provide overall support. To achieve visual loss compensation, dyed patches were stitched to the padded stretcher rather than the ground fabric of the haki; the flag was then stitched to the stretcher. The conservation treatment approach acknowledges that the visibility of both sides of the flag is an important aspect of the taonga’s significance and also that the community will make choices about the use of the flag in the future. In working with the community, deliberate choices were made in how treatment options were communicated, and documentation practices were modified to maximize engagement. Conservation reports are often written in a language designed to efficiently communicate conservation concepts to a narrow audience, i.e., one another – where the conservator of the present is primarily concerned with communicating to the conservator of the future. Neither the database system nor conservation terminology has been designed primarily for communication with communities. In addition to the conservation jargon they contain, these reports have default settings that are dictated by the collection information database.8 Organizational logos feature prominently, data fields and layout are pre-determined, and it is difficult to insert images alongside text to communicate ideas and treatment steps visually. This can inadvertently create the perception that a community is being informed about a decision already made, rather than consulted for guidance on how to proceed. For these reasons, an additional report was generated to communicate the treatment options to The Trust, including images placed alongside the text. Aspects of the treatment were also communicated with textile samples and mock-ups which acted as tactile and visual aids to show the different conservation approaches being proposed. A stitched sample was also made to illustrate the sewing techniques used to make the flag. The stages of appliqué were left unfinished so that the sample could serve to explain all steps of the process.

Conclusion In New Zealand, as part of the tikanga of meeting with new people it is customary for participants to present their mihi, an introductory greeting with a structured format. One might name the mountain and river closest to their home and their family connections, referencing the physical and spiritual connections to one’s place of origin. This is an acknowledgement that we are shaped by our environment and the cultural practices we have been exposed to. We likewise acknowledge in this chapter an awareness of how our cultural background influences processes and outcomes vis-à-vis communities we are working with. Conservation as a profession has a Eurocentric bias because it is rooted in a museology where the majority of the practitioners have been of European descent. Thankfully, the impacts of this are being explored and efforts are being made to address this (Wickens et al., 2021). As recent scholarship has highlighted, the culture of the academic and professional environments we have worked in often sanctions particular attitudes and behaviours that are rooted in white hegemony (Wickens & Gupta, 2022). The focus on preservation of cultural heritage for future generations, rather than the empowerment of historically excluded people in the present, may be perceived by excluded groups as part of this legacy (Henderson, 2020). We practise conservation with this awareness, engaging and participating to share knowledge and build trust, disconnecting the ability to control 180

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an outcome from an ability to add value. Personal interactions and collaborations with common themes – listening, receiving knowledge, participating, and learning – are at the heart of this. As a Māori weaver and conservator, Te Kanawa has a unique ability to act as a bridge between taonga and communities, to build trust with relative immediacy and to re-establish traditional knowledge with communities. Reflecting on an experience of working with the Hawai’ian community, for example, she has said: The reporting of the treatment to the people of Hawaii was as auspicious an occasion for me as it was for them … they wanted to see, hear and meet the person that had direct contact with their treasured ‘ahu’ula [feathered cloak]. I realized that I was the vehicle for which they could reconnect to their respected ancestor and learn of a traditional skill and knowledge they identified as their unique culture (see also Mallon et al., 2017). Kaitiaki Taonga Conservator Textiles Kate Blair shares her personal reflections on the Matariki event: In the context of museums there is an inherent power imbalance; the very concept of ‘providing access’ to collections underscores the truth that museums hold (i.e., have control of) them. In response to the fact that museums have either deliberately or inadvertently separated communities from their cultural heritage, mana taonga provides an avenue to reconnection, to reclaiming agency. It is easy to internalize the sometimes tense relationship between preservation and ­access; at times it can feel like conservation is seen as a barrier to the goals of mana taonga. I aim to be a bridge between taonga and people, to share conservation and material knowledge to help stakeholders make decisions about safe access and use of collections. In the process I hope to uplift the importance of physical preservation while acknowledging that is but one part of the whole picture. Events like Matariki allow us to take a wider view on what we value about the collections and what we are preserving – not just an object, but culture, community, and identity. Kaitiaki Taonga Conservator Textiles Rachael Collinge shares reflections on her experiences working with Nga Uri: Developing a sense of trust and a personal connection was an essential first step towards undertaking conservation treatment. In retrospect, while the extra measures taken to communicate conservation options were helpful, more was achieved at a face-to-face meeting in the conservation lab, and at the lunch held afterwards, as these allowed for a two-way exchange. I also felt it was important that the descendants see the space in which the taonga would be spending a significant amount of time. Our meeting began with karakia [prayer, blessing] and waiata [song] and finished with a shared lunch and kōrero [conversation]. These simple acts of tikanga, sharing food, passing plates down the table, all helped to establish an environment that was conducive to discussion, connection, and equity. While not everyone agreed on the treatment approach, each had an opportunity to share their point of view. We held our meeting over the weekend as this was the most convenient time for the group to meet, and this enabled families, including elders and children, to attend, further supporting community engagement. Conservation of taonga provides an opportunity to reflect on the difficult shared history we have here in Aotearoa. Working on this particular 181

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taonga, I reflected on issues of land seizures, displacement, and the ongoing effects of colonization. For me, it was moving to hear and witness members’ responses to their taonga. The tikanga of the karakia and waiata, and the shared meal established reciprocity; I was focused on the wellbeing of the taonga in my role as conservator, and Nga Uri were concerned for my safety and wellbeing while undertaking the treatment of their taonga. There was a great deal of trust and kindness shown to me, and I am very grateful that Nga Uri gave me the opportunity to work on this historically important taonga. In closing, we have presented these case studies to present the ways that we enact mana taonga. As conservators, we humbly aspire to be a two-way bridge between the community and that which is inherent in the physical object – histories, values, materials, and knowledge. This is not easy and requires willingness of all parties involved to navigate discomfort and sometimes confronting conversations. Crucially, our Māori colleagues in the Mātauranga Māori and Iwi Relationships teams establish relationships and build trust on behalf of Te Papa. Going forward, mentoring and supporting Indigenous conservators is vital for keeping museums relevant for Indigenous communities. The conservation work described here has been undertaken with the help of many, and we are grateful for the network of support, institutional structures, and cultural principles that guide us.

Acknowledgements Thank you to Nga Uri o Te Kooti Trust for granting permission to share the information about the conservation of the haki.

References Ardern, J., Davis, K. & Wood, M. (2021). 2022 Matariki holiday date announced. New Zealand Government. Available from: https://www.beehive.govt.nz/release/2022-matariki-holiday-date-announced. Binney, J. (1995). Redemption songs: a life of the nineteenth century Māori leader Te Kooti Arikirangi Te Turuki. Auckland: Auckland University Press. Cairns, P. (2020). Decolonise or indigenise: moving towards sovereign spaces and the Māorification of New Zealand museology. Te Papa Blog, 10 February 2022. Available from: https://blog.tepapa.govt. nz/2020/02/10/decolonise-or-indigenise-moving-towards-sovereign-spaces-and-the-maorification-ofnew-zealand-museology/ Henderson, J. (2020). Beyond lifetimes: who do we exclude when we keep things for the future? Journal of the Institute of Conservation, 43(3), 195–212. ICOM Costume Committee (ICOM Committee for Museums and Collections of Costume, Fashion and ­Textiles) (2022). About the use of a historic dress that belonged to Marilyn Monroe. Available from: https://costume.mini.icom.museum/about-the-use-of-a-historic-dress-that-belonged-to-marilyn-monroe/ Knox, A. (2022). What is heritage? Heritage New Zealand, 167, 30–37. https://issuu.com/heritagenz/docs/ heritagenz_167/s/17680165 Mallon, S., Te Kanawa, R., Collinge, R., Balram, N., Hutton, G., Carkeek, T.W., Hakiwai, A., Case, E., Aipa, K. & Kepliela, K. (2017). The ‘ahu ‘ula and mahiole of Kalani‘ōpu‘u: a journey of chiefly adornments. Tuhinga, 28, 4–23. Wickens, J. & Gupta, A. (2022). Leadership: the act of making way for others. Studies in Conservation, 67(sup1), 319–325. Wickens, J., Tedone, M., Irving, J. & Grayburn, R. (2021). WUDPAC announces modifications to its ­admissions requirements and interview process. University of Delaware, The Department of Art ­Conservation. Available from: https://www.artcons.udel.edu/news/Pages/WUDPAC-announces-modifications-to-its-­ admissions-requirements-and-interview-process.aspx. Wilcox, J. (2022). Matariki: what is hautapu? Radio New Zealand (RNZ). Available from: https://www.rnz. co.nz/news/te-manu-korihi/469704/matariki-what-is-hautapu.

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Notes * Published in 2024. 1 Ripley’s Believe it or Not! Orlando is one of over 100 attractions operated by Ripley’s, a for-profit ­division of the Jim Pattison Group, Canada’s second largest privately held company. Ripley’s states that the dress worn at The Met Gala now has a value of 10 million dollars. 2 ICOM Costume, 2022. 17 May [Twitter]. [Accessed on 12 December 2022]. Available at: ICOM Costume on Twitter 8/9” / Twitterhttps://twitter.com/icomcostume?lang=en. 3 The New Zealand Conservators of Cultural Materials Code of Ethics also articulates the role that Māori have in determining what the ‘true nature’ of a taonga is and in interpreting how this is preserved (https:// www.nzccm.org.nz/resources/Documents/codeofethics.pdf). 4 XRF analysis was carried out on two nineteenth-century kahu huruhuru (feathered cloaks) and two ­nineteenth-century kahu kuri (dogskin cloaks) using a Bruker® Tracer™ SD-III; 40 keV scans were 30 seconds each. No evidence of inorganic pesticide residue was detected. It was emphasized that the ­technique only detected certain types of pesticides. 5 Te Papa registration number ME008706. 6 Personal communication, Moana Parata to Anne Peranteau. 7 Te Papa’s website allows online visitors to take a virtual tour of the exhibition: https://www.tepapa.govt.nz/ discover-collections/read-watch-play/maori/rongowhakaata/walkthrough-tour-ko-rongowhakaata-story. 8 Te Papa uses Emu.

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3.3 REPATRIATION OF CHIEF CROWFOOT’S REGALIA TO THE SIKSIKA NATION – A CONSERVATOR’S INVOLVEMENT* Morwena Stephens Introduction As UK museums acknowledge that many objects in their collections were acquired during the country’s imperial period, there is growing emphasis on sharing information about collections with source communities (Niala, 2020) and support of repatriation (Atkinson, 2022). This case study provides a description of the repatriation of sacred and culturally significant material to the Siksika Nation from the Royal Albert Memorial Museum (RAMM). This narrative is provided from the perspective of the conservator involved. From 1878 to 2022 the Royal Albert Memorial Museum, Exeter, UK was the caretaker of Isapo-muxika’s (Chief Crowfoot’s) regalia. The important and striking collection of 12 pieces of costume, power bundles, weapons, horsewhips, a bear claw necklace, and pouches were acquired by Cecil Denny, a Hampshire-born senior officer in Canada’s North West Mounted Police, around the time of the signing of the Blackfoot Treaty, or Treaty Number 7, in 1877. Denny’s sister, an Exeter resident, loaned the collection to RAMM the following year, and the museum paid £10 to acquire the collection in 1904.

Chief Crowfoot, Isapo-muxika Isapo-muxika (1830–1890) was a deeply respected Chief of the Siksika Nation, part of the Blackfoot Confederacy, which also comprises the Kainai and the Peigan, now the Apatohsi Pikuni (North Peigan) and the Amskapi Pikuni (South Piegan or Blackfeet) Nations. The Blackfoot territories are in modern-day Alberta, Canada and Montana, USA. Isapo-muxika was born into the Kainai but was adopted into the Siksika when he was six years old after his father was killed and his mother remarried into the Siksika. Chief Crowfoot, as he is more commonly known, distinguished himself as a brave warrior and skilled horseman. He became a leader at an extremely difficult time for the Blackfoot. The whole way of life of many Native American communities was threatened by the fur trade, white settlers and other forms of colonialism, encroachment on traditional lands, the introduction of smallpox and whisky, and the decimation of buffalo herds which were essential to the Plains Tribes’ livelihood. Chief Crowfoot sought to protect the threatened way of life and well-being of his people through negotiation rather than battle against an overwhelming military power. Treaty 7 was meant DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-23184

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to guarantee a minimum amount of farmland for each family, teachers, as well as regular payments in food, materials, and equipment. The Crown’s desire to appropriate large amounts of territory was not properly communicated to the Indigenous negotiators. This, and the fact that many of the explicit promises were not honoured, led to a strong sense of betrayal. Chief Crowfoot continues to be a respected figure among the Siksika, the Blackfoot Confederacy, and wider First Nation communities, with his descendants among more recent Siksika chiefs, including the current Chief Ouray Crowfoot. Several of the pieces in the collection that make up Chief Crowfoot’s regalia have deep sacred power for the Siksika. Herman Yellow Old Woman expressed, ‘it has ties to the land, to the spirit of the animal, and we believe those are living things and they give us power’ (Horner, 2020).

Chief Crowfoot’s regalia The regalia consists of a hide shirt decorated with hair locks bound with quill, beaded panels and medallions, red wool tradecloth, and ermines trimmed with red feathers and black stripes of pigment over a yellow ground. The deerskin leggings have black and yellow stripes worked in pigment, a beaded panel, and are fringed with hair bound with quill and copper alloy bells. There is a beaver fur bow case and quiver with printed tradecloth and beaded panels, and a bow. There are also two horse whips and a bear claw necklace. Chief Crowfoot’s knife with a steel blade and part of a bear’s jaw forming the handle is another very personal object alongside a feather bundle. Bundles and sacred objects are created through communication with and to mediate relationships with supernatural beings in the Blackfoot world (LaPier, 2017). The medicine or materials that make up a bundle include natural materials: for example, feathers, bone, minerals that in part serve as mnemonic for the songs and practice that enable communication with the supernatural. The medicine is usually wrapped, often in cloth, which is why it is often referred to as a bundle. During their long history at RAMM, some of the pieces had become separated from each other and reaccessioned with a variety of accession numbers. During a major Heritage Lottery Fund redisplay of the World Cultures galleries in the late 1990s, the collections were researched and recognized as Chief Crowfoot’s regalia with their original accession numbers gradually being reassigned to them. Meanwhile, many were conserved for display in rotations within the Americas Gallery and most recently to accompany the British Museum’s touring Warriors of the Plains ­exhibition while it was hosted at RAMM in 2012–2013.

The Blackfoot Collections in UK Museums Network The research initiated in the late twentieth century allowed for the collection to be better understood and communicated. In 2011 a conference at the Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford, UK, as part of the Blackfoot Shirts Project (Brown & Peers, 2013), led to the creation of The Blackfoot ­Collections in UK Museums Network, steered by Professor Alison Brown, Department of Anthropology, University of Aberdeen, and funded by the Leverhulme Trust (Brown, 2017). This project aimed to raise awareness of the Blackfoot collections in British museums and allow for knowledge exchange between the Blackfoot and the curators interpreting the pieces in their museums. This involved a visit by a Blackfoot delegation to the UK in 2013, and a visit by Tony Eccles, RAMM Curator of Ethnography, to Blackfoot Crossing in 2014. Eccles was accompanied by Dr Anita Herle, Senior Curator (Anthropology), Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Cambridge, and project lead Professor Brown. The project enabled mutual exchange and learning on both continents and was facilitated by the Leverhulme funding, which was necessarily finite. This highlights the challenges of sustaining long-term relationships over great distances, borders, and time. 185

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The Blackfoot Confederacy delegation 2013 visit Conservation input for the November 2013 visit to RAMM by the Blackfoot Confederacy delegation involved preparatory work such as supporting photography of the objects and work to ensure that the collection was accessible with space for the visitors to view the objects laid out throughout the store. There was also the need to make enquiries into the history of pest treatments at the museum to ascertain the risk of contamination of the objects. Sadly, in Devon’s damp and temperate climate many of the objects had suffered some extent of insect pest damage during their time in the collection. It is possible that the affected objects would have been fumigated with methyl bromide, a pesticide that was widely used in agricultural food production, in the historic chamber at RAMM. Methyl bromide was phased out under the Montreal Protocol as it is a toxic, ozone-depleting substance. There was no record of this having been carried out since 1995. This suggests that the likelihood of any residue was low, but the possibility was shared with the visiting delegation. During the visit, the delegation was welcomed to the store by the curator, and then Elders from the Siksika Nation performed a smudging ceremony, and everyone present also took part in the ceremonial smoking of tobacco. The store smoke detectors were turned off during these ceremonies. The Elders and many others in the delegation spoke Siksika or Blackfoot, which meant that they were able to discuss spiritual and other matters privately as well as perform songs for the pieces. Blackfoot is an endangered language that now is spoken in few homes, although there are initiatives to teach Blackfoot language and culture to children in schools, to the wider community at Mi’Kai’sto Red Crow Community College (2022) and through the Blackfoot App (2022). When language as a means of transmission of cultural and sacred knowledge and history is lost, then the importance of the bundles and other historic pieces to fulfil this function can become even greater. While the visitors were engaging with the regalia and other Blackfoot pieces, the curator and conservator listened to their observations. There are some miniature Blackfoot objects in the collection including a small saddle, and the museum records suggested that these may be toys. However, it was explained that they may have been made for the Little People who look after the tobacco crops (LaPier, 2017). A horned and feathered length of red wool tradecloth that was on display in the Americas ­Gallery as a ‘headdress’ was identified as a sacred Motokiks headdress once worn by a holy woman. Its provenance is unknown, and it is part of the Edgar Dewdney collection at RAMM. It would have belonged to a women’s secret society, and the Elders requested that it be removed from public display and kept in the store. The museum staff were pleased to learn more about the object and respectful of the delegates’ knowledge and request. The headdress was removed from display by the conservator, and it was stored alongside Chief Crowfoot’s regalia in large powder-coated metal drawers. The visit allowed the Blackfoot representatives (Figure 3.3.1) to become acquainted with the very significant pieces associated with Chief Crowfoot and to reassure the sacred material that it was remembered by the Blackfoot people who hoped to bring it home. Eccles’ 2014 visit to Blackfoot Crossing Historical Park and important Blackfoot landscapes and ceremonial sites furthered the exchange of knowledge and understanding, and also strengthened the relationships between the Blackfoot people and RAMM.

Repatriation work in the UK The repatriation took place before Arts Council England published Restitution and Repatriation: A Practical Guide for Museums in England (2022). RAMM’s approach was informed by existing policy documents, such as the Museums Association Code of Ethics, Additional Guidance (2015); 186

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Figure 3.3.1 The Blackfoot delegation during the 2013 visit with Kent Ayoungman and Herman Yellow Old Woman holding Chief Crowfoot’s shirt at RAMM. © RAMM, Exeter City Council.

Museum Accreditation Scheme Guidance issued by Arts Council England in March 2019; the Collections Trust template and checklist for recording and researching restitution and repatriation claims (2015); and Restitution and Repatriation: Guidelines for Good Practice published by the Museums & Galleries Commission (2000). RAMM’s repatriation and restitution guidelines (2020) state that the museum’s governing body may take the decision to return objects to a country or people of origin. Such decisions will be taken ‘on a case-by-case basis; within its legal position and taking into account all ethical implications and available guidance’. The museum has undertaken a number of restitutions and repatriations in recent decades. Perhaps the most high-profile, before the Crowfoot regalia, took place in 1995 when RAMM returned a necklace that had belonged to Truganini, the last ‘full blood’ Tasmanian Aboriginal (1812–1876), to The Tasmanian Aboriginal Centre Inc., recognizing the cultural, historic, and spiritual importance of the necklace to the community.

The repatriation request Following the 2013–2014 visits, a formal request for the collection acquired by Denny and described as Chief Crowfoot’s regalia was initially made by Blackfoot Crossing Historical Park (BCHP) in 2015. BCHP is a ‘cultural, educational and entertainment Centre built for the promotion and preservation of the Siksika Nation Peoples’ language, culture and traditions’ (BCHP, 2022). As a local authority museum with established rules of governance, RAMM required certain assurances about the proposed ownership, home, and collections care conditions for the regalia. The appropriate assurances were provided after Camilla Hampshire, Museum Manager at RAMM, made direct contact 187

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with Chief Ouray Crowfoot, Siksika Nation Chief, and it was agreed that the Siksika Nation should make the request for repatriation. This means that the title rests with the Siksika Nation, ensuring that the long-term ownership remains with the community. The regalia will be loaned for display at BCHP. The regalia is to be housed in a purpose-built gallery at BCHP, at the site of the Treaty 7 signing and an important visitor centre, on Siksika land in Alberta, Canada. Eventually, through the discussions between Chief Ouray Crowfoot and Camilla Hampshire, the required information for the repatriation request was brought together to be presented to Exeter City Council, which voted unanimously for the repatriation on 9 April 2020. It resolved that legal title to the Crowfoot regalia be relinquished by Exeter City Council and transferred to the Siksika Tribal Council, the living descendants of Chief Crowfoot and legally recognized representatives of the Siksika Nation. Although the COVID-19 pandemic delayed the process, the repatriation was able to take place on 19 May 2022, when the regalia was handed over to the Siksika Nation representatives during a ceremony. The visit, organized by Chief Ouray Crowfoot and Camilla Hampshire, brought a delegation of 13 Siksika representatives to RAMM, including Chief Crowfoot, Herman ­Yellow Old Woman, a traditional knowledge holder, and other people with traditional knowledge, Kent Ayoungman and Linda Little Chief. There was sadness that Elders Frank Weasel Head and ­Narcisse Blood, both of whom were dedicated to the repatriation and had participated in the 2013 Blackfoot delegation, had passed away in the intervening years. The museum wanted to ensure that there would be no complications with transporting the large collection of regalia, which included a bladed knife, over international borders and so decided to appoint a courier company to handle the transport, logistics, and licences. Holly Morgenroth, Collections Officer and a natural historian, compiled the information for compliance with the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES). Materials in the regalia that are subject to CITES included Aquila chrysaetos (golden eagle), Bueto jamaicencis (red tailed hawk), Ursus arctos (black bear), and Lontra canadensis (North American river otter). A licence was also required from Arts Council England and paperwork supplied to Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs for export duty.

Conservation preparations for repatriation The conservator’s role involved working with a technician to design the packaging for transport. Information was sought from the curator, and the museum manager and collections officer who were liaising directly with Chief Ouray Crowfoot, about which objects should be transported together or apart and whether there were any other taboos around the handling and packing of the regalia. It was established that the knife and the feather bundle should be together, and the shirt and leggings should be together as far as possible. It would be acceptable to fold the shirt and leggings for the transport. It was also clarified that Isapo-muxika’s shirt should not be handled by a woman who was menstruating. Women were also asked to wear a skirt or dress rather than trousers for the ceremony during the repatriation visit. This information, together with a visual examination, outlines traced on acid-free tissue, and dimensions of the individual pieces, was used to design four acid-free corrugated card boxes that could be stacked within a crate. Once the boxes were designed and made by George Hunt, technician, in discussion with the conservator, the specifications for the crate could be given to the courier (Crown) who manufactured it from timber stamped and certified as sustainable and heat treated for import into Canada (IPPC GB-FC0017 HT). The crate was lined with 50mm polyethylene foam with a recess in the centre at either end to be able to reach the sides of the boxes. The crate would then be lined with polyethylene sheeting, which would be sealed around the boxes inside the crate. Cotton tape would be placed around each box to facilitate lifting them from the crate. 188

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A divination bundle that was wrapped in printed cotton cloth (Eccles, 2015) had been stored outside its beaded hide pouch. The curator advised that the bundle should be put back into the pouch, which should have its splitting side seams restitched. This was the only object among the regalia not previously conserved. The pouch was surface cleaned with soft brush and controlled vacuum suction, and a smoke sponge (vulcanized natural latex cleaning sponge) ‘brush’. Localized loose beading was secured with a strand of Anchor® embroidery cotton thread. The broken seam in the hide was restitched with the same soft thread. A necklace with glass beads, bear claws, and horn studded with copper alloy, which was on display in the Americas Gallery until May 2022, had exhibited glass disease previously. After it was removed from the display case efflorescence was found, particularly on blue glass beads. This was conserved by Sarah Klopf, RAMM Senior Conservator, and detailed information and guidance on caring for objects with glass disease was prepared to give to the Siksika delegation. The necklace was cleaned with a soft brush and vacuum suction, using different brushes for the beads affected by glass disease. The blue beads were cleaned with industrial denatured alcohol using cotton wool swabs. A broken bead and detached fragments were re-adhered and/or consolidated with 5% Paraloid™ B72 (ethyl methacrylate copolymer) in acetone. Small Melinex® (polyester film) discs were placed either side of affected blue beads to separate them from adjacent beads should the glass disease return. The necklace was packed in a Stewart™ polypropylene lidded box with silica gel conditioned to 45% relative humidity. In order to provide information about the conservation of the regalia during its more recent history at RAMM, all of the conservation records in physical and digital form were assembled. This was complicated by the fact that many of the objects had been given more than one accession number whilst in the collection, which meant that digital records had to be amended with the correct original accession number. Digital conservation photographs were also collated to give to Blackfoot Crossing Historical Park Museum. The original card conservation records were photocopied for RAMM’s records and the digital conservation records printed out to give to Chief Ouray Crowfoot alongside the card records. The day before the repatriation visit, the gallery space to be used was laid out with three large tables covered with thin polyethylene foam, Tyvek® (non-woven polyethylene fabric), and acidfree tissue. The objects were taken from the store to the gallery on the day and laid out on the tables, observing any necessary groupings, i.e., placing Chief Crowfoot’s shirt and leggings together and his knife and feather bundle together. Nitrile gloves were made available, particularly for museum staff, but there was no suggestion that Blackfoot members would be asked to use them.

The repatriation visit The museum had arranged for greetings, meals, and discussions to take place in an adjacent gallery. The Siksika delegation (Figure 3.3.2) was keen to be with the objects early in the day and the ceremonies took place in the morning. The delegation invited everyone on site, including the press, to be present. Herman Yellow Old Woman and Kent Ayoungman carried out the ceremony. During the day it became clear that the Elders’ preferred option would be for someone with the traditional knowledge to wrap the pieces for transport, ideally in their hand luggage. However, as the regalia included a bladed knife and the crate would need to be opened up, filmed, and repacked at the courier’s secure warehouse, it was agreed that the conservators would pack the objects. In more traditional settings the bundles, pouches, and garments would normally be wrapped in cloth. It was therefore agreed that we would wrap the regalia in unbleached, scoured cotton calico. There was a discussion about the risk of more fragile feather tips or brittle and fragmentary fur skins 189

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Figure 3.3.2 The Siksika Nation delegation for the 2022 repatriation at RAMM. © RAMM, Exeter City Council.

catching on the calico, and it was agreed this was an acceptable risk as calico was much preferred to acid-free tissue. Conservators individually wrapped each piece in a sheet of calico and placed it into its designated location within a box. Advantages of using calico were that it was not as slippery within the boxes and conformed more readily to the objects’ forms than tissue. Tissue puffs were incorporated into voids around the wrapped objects where there was concern about movement within the boxes. The following morning the couriers arrived and assisted with loading the boxes into the crate as described above. On the evening of the repatriation, a mayoral dinner was held in honour of Chief Ouray Crowfoot and representatives of the Siksika Nation at Exeter’s historic Guildhall. This was an occasion for further exchange between Exeter and the Siksika Nation, including of heartfelt speeches and gifts. Herman Yellow Old Woman generously gifted a regalia that he had made for himself 30 years previously and worn. He assured the city council that its return would never be requested. It will be displayed in the redeveloped Americas Gallery as part of the Ancestral Voices project, allowing for the story of Chief Crowfoot, Treaty 7, the Siksika, and Blackfoot to be told through a modern regalia that combines traditional techniques and materials: deerskin, beadwork, red wool tradecloth with more modern materials: nylon fabric and polyester sewing thread in a shirt, leggings, belt, gauntlets, and moccasins. The regalia has been conserved and mounted on a mannequin for display (Figure 3.3.3), using photographs of Herman Yellow Old Woman wearing it for guidance. 190

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Following the repatriation, there was an opportunity to liaise with Gail Niinimaa, the textile conservator commissioned by Blackfoot Crossing Historical Park to mount Chief Crowfoot’s shirt and leggings. Niinimaa was provided with condition information and dimensions of the shirt, leggings, and their previous mounts, in order to be able to prepare for the project (Niinimaa & Wright, 2023).

Conclusion In different countries there is legislation and guidance on repatriation of human remains, sacred objects, and other culturally significant material. A few examples include NAGPRA (USA), the Karanga Aotearoa Repatriation Programme (Aotearoa/New Zealand), and the Arts Council ­England’s Restitution and Repatriation. Few refer to the role of the conservator in the process, but there are other resources such as Posada’s (2021) presentation which advocates for conservators’ active engagement in repatriation. Communication and understanding are key to a successful repatriation, to establish and respect the community members’ wishes for the treatment of the sacred regalia and for the process. The conservator’s role is as one of a team, which creates opportunities to develop and strengthen collaboration with colleagues and community members. It was rewarding to be able to support the repatriation of Chief Crowfoot’s regalia to the Siksika Nation throughout the process, from the ­initial Blackfoot delegation visit in 2013 to the repatriation in 2021. This case study demonstrates it was especially important to listen, communicate, learn, and be able to adapt conventional practice to support a successful repatriation that has led to very significant spiritual and cultural h­ eritage coming home.

Figure 3.3.3  Herman Yellow Old Woman regalia gifted to RAMM. © RAMM, Exeter City Council.

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Acknowledgements The Siksika Nation, with particular thanks to Chief Ouray Crowfoot, Herman Yellow Old Woman and Kent Ayoungman. The Royal Albert Memorial Museum, especially Tony Eccles, Julien Parson and Camilla Hampshire.

References Arts Council England (2019). Museum accreditation scheme guidance. Available from: https://www.­ artscouncil.org.uk/sites/default/files/download-file/Accreditation_Guidance_Mar_2019_0.pdf Arts Council England (2022). Restitution and repatriation: a practical guide for museums in England. Available from: https://www.artscouncil.org.uk/supporting-arts-museums-and-libraries/supporting-collectionsand-cultural-property/restitution-and Atkinson, R. (2022). Largest-ever repatriation from a Scottish museum given green light. Museums ­Journal (April). Available from: https://www.museumsassociation.org/museums-journal/news/2022/04/ largest-ever-repatriation-of-cultural-artefacts-from-a-scottish-museum-given-green-light/ Blackfoot Crossing Historical Park (2022). Blackfoot Crossing Historical Park. Available from: https://­ blackfootcrossing.ca/wordpress/about/ Brown, A.K. (2017). Co-authoring relationships: Blackfoot collections, UK museums, and collaborative practice. Collaborative Anthropologies, 9(1/2), 117–148. Brown, A.K & Peers, L. (2013). The Blackfoot Shirts project. The International Handbooks of Museum ­Studies, 2(12), 263–287. Collections Trust (2015). Researching and processing a restitution or repatriation claim. Available from: https://collectionstrust.org.uk/resource/researching-and-processing-a-restitution-or-repatriation-claim/ Eccles, T. (2015). RAMM meets Blackfoot representatives. Research blog. Available from: https://rammcollections.org.uk/2015/05/19/ramm-meets-blackfoot-representatives/ Exeter City Council (2020). Repatriation request for Chief Crowfoot’s regalia. Meeting: 07/04/2020 – ­Executive (Item 47). Available from: https://committees.exeter.gov.uk/ieIssueDetails.aspx?IId=46093&Opt=3 Horner, D. (2020). Crowfoot comes home: repatriating a First Nation leader’s regalia from a British museum to the prairies. Alberta Views, 28 October. Available from: https://albertaviews.ca/crowfoot-comes-home/# LaPier, R.P. (2017). Invisible reality: storytellers, storytakers, and the supernatural world of the Blackfeet. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, American Philosophical Society. Mi’Kai’sto Red Crow Community College (2022). Indigenous Language and Culture Diploma (ILCD).­Available from: https://www.redcrowcollege.com/program/indigenous-language-and-culture-diploma-ilcd Museums & Galleries Commission (2000). Restitution and repatriation: guidelines for good practice. ­London: Museums & Galleries Commission. Museums Association (2015). Code of ethics for museums, additional guidance. Available from: https:// archive-media.museumsassociation.org/20012016-additional-guidance-to-the-code-of-ethics-2015.pdf Niala, J.C. (2020). Rethinking relationships: Kenyan community research. Horniman Museum & Gardens News & Stories. Available from: https://www.horniman.ac.uk/story/rethinking-relationships-kenyancommunity-research/ Niinimaa, G. & Wright, S. (2023). Repatriating Chief Crowfoot’s regalia from Exeter, UK to the Siksika ­Nation: considerations from a cultural and conservation point of view. In Considering costume: the ­conservation of apparel, adornment and accessories. Preprints, 14th NATCC, 2023, Williamsburg, VA. Posada, L. (2021). Colleagues, communities, collaboration: partnerships towards repatriation and ethical stewardship. Online video, YouTube. Available from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E-jF8yulfoQ Royal Albert Memorial Museum & Art Gallery (2020). Appendix C – repatriation and restitution of objects and human remains. Available from: https://rammuseum.org.uk/reports-plans-and-policies/ Siksika (Blackfoot) Nation (2022). Blackfoot App. [Accessed on 12 September 2022]. Available from: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.languagepal.blackfootoldsunandroid&referrer= utm_source%3Dappbrain%26utm_medium%3Dappbrain_web%26utm_campaign%3Dappbrain_web

Note * Published in 2024.

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3.4 THE ESH WINNING MINERS’ BANNER PROJECT – CONSERVATION INVOLVEMENT IN A COMMUNITY INITIATIVE* Caroline Rendell, Norman Emery, Chris Scott, Jim Devenport The Durham coalfield The trend for the creation of memorials and heritage trails and the replication of miners’ union lodge banners is a discernible phenomenon within the communities of the former colliery villages of County Durham in the northeast of England. The mining villages encircle the cathedral city of Durham. Supporting these activities is an equally discernible trend in the publication of memoirs and other histories relating to coal extraction and coal communities. These villages, created as a side effect of the process of deep coal extraction, still possess a strong collective identification and a fierce pride in their communities, their own particular village and its colliery. The union lodge banners of these villages are a major focus of the current interest and activity relating to mining heritage in County Durham. This case study of the conservation of the Esh Winning Lodge Banner examines the contribution that conservators can make by supporting and becoming involved in community initiatives. The four contributors represent the community, the museum and the conservators: Norman Emery, Chairman of the Esh Winning Colliery Banner Group; Chris Scott, Keeper of History, Beamish Museum; Jim Devenport, Paintings Conservator; Caroline Rendell, Textile Conservator. At its zenith, the Durham coalfield had 180 working coal mining pits (Emery, 1998). The ­Durham Miners’ Association was formed in 1869, after the breaking of earlier unions in the 1830s and 1840s by owners whose weapons included oppressive laws enforced by the police and the army, blackleg or strike-breaking labour and the threat of eviction. The Association’s membership grew from 5,000 in the 1870s to 141,000 by 1914 with union lodges at every colliery. Lodge ­delegates met to discuss the concerns of their industry and the struggle of working people for social justice, in the ‘Miners’ Parliament’ at Redhills, in Durham City. Each pit had a Miners’ Lodge banner, a symbol of the unity of miners working at that pit. County Durham became the biggest purchaser of banners in the British coalfields. The banner was flown to show the miners’ loyalty to their county union and later, their national union. As the pit was, in many cases, the principal employer in a village, the conditions of labour affected the whole community, and the banner became a wider symbol of the working community as a whole.

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The greatest manifestation of community spirit and trade union and political solidarity is the Miners’ Gala, the Big Meeting, first held in Durham in 1871 and still continuing (Figure 3.4.1). New banners were often commissioned and purchased, ready to be unfurled the night before the Big Meeting, and then proudly paraded through the streets of Durham, preceded by the colliery band. Lodges either prepared their own designs or chose from pattern books, many purchasing their banners from the leading London firm of George Tutill and Company. The banners themselves reflect the mining community heritage through the imagery they portray. The vast majority of the figures on lodge banners are men, from well-known Labour leaders such as Keir Hardie and Harold Wilson, to local Labour councillors, and finally, much-generalized and ubiquitous working men, portrayed as heroic representations of the body of working miners. Women are shown teaching children or as the mourning widow, to personify ‘Knowledge is Power’, or as the heroine heralding the ‘Emancipation of Labour’. Families are seen welcoming the rising sun with the words ‘the Sunshine of Liberty’. However, Edith Cavell, portrayed on the Bowburn Banner, is probably the only identifiable female historic figure (Gorman, 1986: 42). The village of Esh Winning, the catalyst for this study, is situated 8km from Durham City. This colliery worked from the 1860s until 1968. The lodge purchased a series of banners; in 1894 it acquired a banner which portrayed the working-class leaders William Crawford, Alexander MacDonald and Ernest Jones on one side, and the Good Samaritan image, ‘Bear ye one another’s burden’, on the other. The lodge’s second banner carried a painting of a Great War soldier, thought to be a local man, Ernest Hull, a sapper in the 177th Tunnelling Company, Royal Engineers, who died in 1917 and is buried at Vlamertinge cemetery at Ypres in Belgium. The reverse side of the banner showed the local aged miners’ homes; the homes movement was described by one coal owner as

Figure 3.4.1 Parading the Trimdon Lodge Banner at the Big Meet with their brass band. Image by John Attle.

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‘the most philanthropic work done by any body of workmen anywhere in the world’. Following the formation of the National Union of Mineworkers in 1945, the lodge acquired a third banner showing the Durham area union headquarters at Redhills on one side, and an old image of a miner shaking hands with a coal owner on the other. When the pit closed in 1968, this banner was laid up and later transferred to Beamish, The Living Museum of the North, on long-term loan.

Union lodge banners Each banner is a masterpiece of painted artwork. Most are three metres by three metres in size and are constructed from a single layer of silk fabric, painted on both sides with a central painted panel embellished with silvered scrolling and lettering indicating the village or colliery to which the banner belongs. Each banner hangs from a turned wooden pole with guide ropes attached to enable the banner to be controlled as it was being paraded. These highly decorative objects were also brought out for other events during the year (Figure 3.4.2). The skills of unfurling the banners, parading them and controlling them in the wind were passed down from one generation to the next. But as each Gala passes, the banners have been deteriorating. First aid, such as the application of adhesive tapes, has always been practised to enable the banner to be carried for yet another year. Various restoration attempts and amateur repairs have also been carried out over the years. However, there has been a growing awareness within the communities that banners have a finite life, and there is a real risk of destroying the older banners and those which are in a poor condition through continued use.

Figure 3.4.2 The Durham Miners’ Association, Murton Lodge banner being carried out of Durham Cathedral after the s­ ervice of dedication. Image by John Attle.

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Consequently, banners bear the scars of being paraded, displayed and stored. The Tutill banners are extremely vulnerable to splitting at the interface between the painted and the unpainted silk, with cracking and tearing often found in these areas. Tutill’s manufacturing techniques used a patented natural rubber pre-treatment layer for the painted portions (Rogerson & Lennard, 2005). Whilst this layer was intended to make the painted areas more pliant and flexible, the rubber layer has deteriorated, losing its flexibility. The jacquard silk used for the earlier banners and the latter tabby-woven silk banner fabrics all suffer from a synergy of deterioration factors: light damage, staining from rain, dirt from tarry deposits, general soiling, insect and pest attack, mould growth, mechanical damage and damage caused by inappropriate storage. The condition of the painted areas can also be structurally very poor; white blooming marring the surface, flaking paint, splits and tears, together with the abrasion of surfaces making the images indistinct, are common occurrences. The banners remain an important legacy of the industry and are still very emotive objects within the county of Durham. All banners are the property of the Durham Miners’ Association (DMA), formerly the National Union of Mineworkers, Durham Area. They are found in a number of locations; some are held by village communities, whilst 33 are at Redhills: Durham Miners Hall, where photography, conservation reports and improvements to storage have been undertaken, or at Beamish, The Living Museum of the North. Beamish holds 52 union and society banners in its guardianship, of which the majority are Miners’ Lodge Banners; most were made by Tutill and Co. (Figure 3.4.3). Here too the banners have been systematically photographed and their storage improved by rolling them onto large diameter rollers incorporating Moistop barrier foil, acid-free tissue and Tyvek™. The rollers are incorporated into a vertical roller storage system in the regional resource base. It is possible to view the banners by prior appointment, although it has been found that the availability of good-quality images satisfies the vast majority of enquiries. The comprehensive digital database held by both organizations also aids retrieval of information about the banners. By having in place such measures, the rolling and unrolling of banners is kept to a minimum, aiding preventive conservation standards.

Community action The first Miners’ Lodge community to retire, conserve and frame its original banner was Trimdon Grange; a new banner was also commissioned to be paraded in its place. The role and support of the DMA has been pivotal in the two-strand approach to the care and conservation of the DMA

Figure 3.4.3  Label from the original storage box of a George Tutill banner. Image by George Bamfitt.

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banners. The Banner Group was formed after the success of the Trimdon Grange project. The group comprised DMA representatives, a conservator (Caroline Rendell), an historian (Norman Emery) and three representatives from pit villages. It was here that the policy of commissioning new banners whilst retiring and conserving the original banners was agreed, and from those early discussions the benefit of this approach has been seen by everyone involved. Since then, more lodges within the Durham Coalfield have followed Trimdon Grange and have had their original banners conserved and framed, and replicas or new banners commissioned for parading. In 2022 more replica banners were dedicated in the Cathedral than in any previous year. The Esh Winning banner initiative was one such project, needing Beamish Museum, the banner’s guardian and the community to work together. In 2005 Robert Heslop, who had worked at the pit, brought together a group of people in Esh Winning who were interested in seeing the return of the 1945 banner on long-term loan from Beamish and the production of a replica banner. The Esh Winning Colliery Banner Group approached the Museum in 2006 with the express desire of repatriating their banner back to Esh Winning, to be displayed in the community from which it originated. The group was passionate about the project and believed the 1945 banner, held in the museum’s collection, to be a catalyst for improving Esh Winning’s community focus and spirit. Throughout the project they expressed their belief that the banner was the heart of their community and a physical representation of the pride in Esh Winning as a place. From these statements it seems that the industrial pride and shared experience of the past has been mapped onto these objects as a way of attempting to reawaken that pride which they believe to have disappeared. Discussions were held with textile conservator, Caroline Rendell, and paintings conservator, Jim Devenport, about the conservation of the old banner, with Chippenham Design of Norfolk about the production of a new banner, and a Heritage Lottery Fund adviser on fund-raising. A public meeting demonstrated that the community of Esh Winning wholeheartedly backed the scheme, and a formal committee was elected. Contact was made with local schools to involve the village children in their mining heritage, and the local clergy prepared for a dedication service. Finding a suitable location for the display of the old banner was a vital part of the loan agreement with Beamish. The village club building was vetted, and the curator and the two conservators agreed a suitable location within the building. The group held regular meetings to maintain the momentum, visiting Beamish to examine the old banner and getting the agreement and support of the museum for the long-term loan of the banner, getting estimates for conservation work and finding suitable locations for the old and new banners. An application was made to the Heritage Lottery Fund, and local fund-raising began. This process received the invaluable support of the Bearpark and Esh Colliery Band, which held a series of sold-out concerts with the proceeds going to the banner fund. Funding also came from local businesses, the local county councillor’s initiative fund, the parish council, and through events such as raffles, fairs, bingo and a jazz concert. On 8 February 2006 the Heritage Lottery Fund formally announced that a grant had been awarded for the project. The Esh Winning Banner Group was able to immediately commission the making of the new replica banner. On the evening of 7 July 2006 the replica banner was formally unveiled and blessed by the local clergy. The next day it was paraded at the Miners’ Gala in ­Durham and carried into Durham Cathedral, where it was dedicated by the Bishop of Durham.

Conservation of the 1945 banner The textile conservator has advised individual banner groups, including Esh Winning, on the ­options for the conservation treatment of their banners. These may include simple improvements 197

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to storage, providing rollers and acid-free tissue, or a range of conservation options, in this instance full conservation. During initial discussions it was essential that there was agreement amongst all of the stakeholders that once the banner was conserved it would be retired from use. This is the policy supported by the DMA, which retains ownership of all the banners. Once treated, the banners are framed and hung in an appropriate location such as a school, village club or hall, community centre or church. This initial meeting is vital as it provides a forum for asking questions, raising concerns and reaching agreement on the course of the banner project. This is best undertaken at the studio where the banner can be unrolled and everyone can look at options for treatment. Explaining and emphasizing the benefits of professional rather than amateur repairs is a starting point. Managing expectations is crucial, for example by explaining that the original colour of the silk cannot be restored but that surface cleaning treatments will improve the overall appearance of the banner. The paintings conservator focuses on the levels of cleaning and retouching, whilst for a textile conservator the discussion will focus upon the removal of old repairs or the methodology of sandwiching weakened border silk in dyed conservation net. The Esh Winning banner was unrolled and viewed at Beamish Museum, where these discussions took place. A written estimate for conservation treatment and the costs of the textile and painted elements was submitted as part of the Heritage Lottery Fund grant application by the Esh Winning Colliery Banner Group. The conservators maintained additional contact throughout the conservation treatment process with invitations to visit the studio whilst the work was taking place. The Tutill banners are double-sided and have different images painted on each side. The choice of the side to be displayed lies with the banner group; they may be influenced by the significance of the image to that lodge, for example the image may depict a local mining disaster. In other cases, the image on one side and the message it conveys may be more appropriate for the final display location. As the Esh Winning Banner is from the Tutill workshops, such a choice had to be made. The side of the banner bearing the words ‘All men are brethren’ and ‘Let us work together’ was chosen as the side best suited to being displayed in the village club. The conservation treatment is often a collaborative process between the textile and paintings conservators. The treatment of the painted areas is often the first process to be completed, the textile conservation following on. However, there are occasions where the treatment cycle is reversed or integrated, each conservator being reliant on the work of the other to enable them to complete their part of the conservation treatment. In this case the textile conservator also supplied the specification for the frame, working with the carpenter during the design process and being on site for the final installation of the banner.

Conservation treatment Paint Unlike easel paintings, banners are seldom varnished and cleaning is usually confined to surface cleaning. Dirt seems to become ingrained into the surface probably because the banners are used and exposed to atmospheric pollutants relatively soon after having been painted. Surface cleaning therefore does not always result in the banners looking much brighter, though a lot of dirt comes off on the swabs. Many banners have been blanched, a consequence of volatile components in the oil medium becoming trapped on the surface due to the banners being rolled up for extended periods (Singer et al., 1995).

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The silk support often splits, particularly along the line where the painted and unpainted areas meet. There is often paint loss along the line of the split. Severe tears and splits in easel paintings would usually be treated by lining; this is not usually possible with banners as often both sides need to be viewed. This is often resolved by patching the splits using a thin fairly transparent fabric such as polyester Stabiltex® and BEVA® film (ethylene vinyl acetate adhesive) applied to the reverse side of the banner. Because the banner is not stretched like an easel painting, filling is not usually possible as there is too much movement along the line of the tears; retouching has to be carried out directly onto the silk surface, which is often frayed. Paint losses on banners are not often retouched in the same way as easel paintings, although retouching may be used to reduce the visual impact of the damaged and lost areas (Pollack, 2003). The areas of flaking paint on both sides of the banner were consolidated with a small sable brush using a mixture of 1:2 BEVA® 371 in white spirit. Once the adhesive was dry, the treated areas were ironed with a heated spatula at 70°C and cold set by applying a cold iron to the same area using silicone-coated paper as a release sheet. Surplus BEVA® was removed with xylene. The cockling was treated locally with damp blotting paper and a warm iron and was then weighted to reduce the distortions. Old adhesive staining was removed with xylene and cotton wool swabs. Surface dirt was removed from all of the painted areas on the front and reverse using cotton wool swabs and a chelating agent, tri-ammonium citrate, in deionized water. The surface was then rinsed with water and dried with a cotton wool swab. The blanching was removed mechanically, most successfully with a Mars Staedtler™ plastic eraser. Further cleaning to remove a greasy dirt layer was undertaken with xylene. The scrolls and mantling on the banner were cleaned with a 5% solution of tri-ammonium citrate in deionized water, rinsed with water and dried with a cotton wool swab. After cleaning, the painted area was brush varnished with a semi-shiny coat of Ketone ‘N’™ resin dissolved in Stoddard’s solvent, which enhanced the surface appearance of the central vignette.

Textile The textiles were surface cleaned front and verso, using a low-suction vacuum cleaner set at 20 millibars. Dust samples were checked throughout the process to establish the amount of soiling being removed in any given area and to monitor any loss of fibre. A vulcanized rubber sponge was used to remove patches of heavy surface soiling on both faces of the silk cloth. A light application of a microfibre cloth completed the surface cleaning treatment. Fine-gauge nylon net and habutai silk fabrics were dyed to the correct tone for the mauve damask and for the blue silk of the border, which was particularly unstable. Patches of the prepared support materials were inserted under the areas of splits or tears in the banner silk and secured using laid and couched stitching with monofilament silk or ultra-fine polyester threads as appropriate to the area being treated. For example, along the top edge a polyester thread was chosen to supply additional strength to the support stitching. In the areas of cracking at the junction of the painted and unpainted textile, the splits were stabilized with Stabiltex® (polyester crepeline fabric) and BEVA® film, heat sealed with a warm spatula and cold set by ironing with a cold iron on the designated reverse side of the banner. As the blue hanging tabs were missing, 13 new ones were prepared from fabric dyed with Ciba Geigy dyes to the correct tone and restitched to the top blue cotton tape. The wooden pole was inserted from which the banner would hang. To prepare the banner for display, a frame was

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commissioned. A dyed cotton fabric was washed and seamed to the correct size. Using stainless steel staples, the cotton was attached to the prepared back stretcher. The banner was then hung from its pole from brackets on the covered back frame. To ensure that the banner would stay aligned in the frame, cotton tape tabs were attached to the corners of the central field and to the backboard and tied together. The glazed front of the frame was introduced and secured into position. The banner was installed at New Houses Working Men’s Club in Esh Winning, under the textile conservator’s direction. It was unveiled on 1 April 2008 by Albert Newgent, Chairman of Durham County Council and a former pitman (Figure 3.4.4).

Conclusion Although every banner group is different, they have a common aim, which is the desire to be independent of larger heritage bodies. Groups want to achieve their projects themselves with a minimum of outside influence. This seems to be a function of the community’s desire to recreate a local identity, often inward looking and focused on local aims, creating local cohesion based on local people. Faced with this attitude, it seems necessary for heritage professionals to take a mainly responsive role in facilitating these projects. There is no need to outreach to these groups or inspire them to achieve more. The inspiration and goals are there, and the enthusiasm is unquestionable. The role of the heritage professional seems much better served by advising when asked, maintaining a link to these groups and offering timely support which is both pragmatic and achievable.

Figure 3.4.4 The Esh Winning Colliery Banner Group unveiling the new banner, on the left, with the ­conserved banner, on the right. Image by Chris Scott.

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However, the museum, in this instance Beamish, also has a duty of care to its objects, maintaining contact with those who will eventually be responsible for the loan of a unique cultural object of high value, advising them on the care and maintenance of that object once it, the banner, is returned to the community. Preserving a good working relationship between curators and conservators is essential; together they can advise as one voice. Without this careful balance, it would be easy for the professionals to be viewed as obstructive or capricious by people who are so passionate and focused in achieving their goal. The real conservation of, and access to, these unique objects can only be achieved by a sound alliance. Curators and conservators must build personal relationships with groups to help them achieve their ultimate goal, which is to make their banners a part of the community again, displaying them in such a way that they are accessible to everyone.

References Emery, N. (1998). Banners of the Durham coalfield. Stroud, Gloucestershire: Sutton Publishing. Gorman, J. (1986). Banner bright. Second edition. Buckhurst Hill, Essex: Scorpion. Pollack, N. (2003). Moving pictures: adapting painting conservation techniques to the treatment of painted textiles. In J. Vuori (Ed.), Tales in the textile. The conservation of flags and other symbolic textiles. ­Preprints, NATCC, Albany NY (pp. 127–134). NATCC. Rogerson, C. & Lennard, F. (2005). Billowing silk and bendable binders: is flexibility the key to understanding banner behaviour? In R. Janaway & P. Wyeth (Eds), Scientific analysis of ancient & historic textiles. Informing preservation, display and interpretation (pp. 12–18). London: Archetype. Singer, B., Devenport, J. & Wise, D. (1995). Examination of a blooming problem in a collection of ­unvarnished oil paintings. The Conservator, 19, 3–9.

Note * Published in 2010, revised in 2024.

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3.5 THE TREATMENT AND RETREATMENT OF TRADE UNION BANNERS* (Re)building a specialism in the conservation of large painted textiles based on their living history Jennifer van Enckevort, Kloë Rumsey, Beth Gillions

Introduction Textile conservation at the People’s History Museum (PHM) has been developed over 30 years since the museum moved to Manchester in 1990 from Limehouse in London. The conservation studio specializes in the treatment of trade union and political banners which form a large part of the collection, leading to a reputation for treating this specific type of object. The studio also undertakes work for a broad range of institutions such as churches, unions, museums and community organizations, generating income for the museum. Trade union banners are large and challenging objects to work with. Those featured here are of a common construction consisting of a single layer of fabric, usually silk, painted on both sides, with the painted image occupying the same place on both sides. They are trimmed with borders, pole loops, fringe and guide tapes. The painted designs portray various scenes, from portraits of Labour leaders to religious imagery, aimed at inspiring viewers and encouraging membership of the union (also see the case study by Rendell et al. in this chapter). Typical conservation problems include splits and tears, especially at the interface between silk and paint, the most common form of use-related damage on trade union banners, and due to the discrepancies between weight and flexibility in these two different materials. Damage to the painted surfaces includes fracturing, cracking and abrasion and bloom on the paint. As many banners are double-sided, treatments often need to be visually sympathetic on both sides; transparent layers such as silk crepeline are then used as a combined support and overlay (Lennard & Lochhead, 2003). The varied post-conservation life experienced by the banners that enter and leave the studio, as well as the large collection of conserved and unconserved banners held at the PHM, give us an unusual perspective on the lifetimes of conservation treatments. Once conservation is completed, it is expected that objects will remain safe for the foreseeable future, but in the last ten years

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-25202

The treatment and retreatment of trade union banners

Figure 3.5.1 Cardinal Manning banner on recent display at the People’s History Museum following retreatment. © People’s History Museum.

three banners have entered the studio because previous conservation treatments had failed. These projects are summarized below, describing the ways these failures guided subsequent treatments. Also discussed is how the future of banner use and culture may affect deterioration and influence conservation decision-making.

1.  The banner of the Amalgamated Society of Watermen & Lightermen, Greenwich Branch No. 13, Cardinal Manning Lodge The Cardinal Manning banner (Figure 3.5.1) was made by George Kenning (unsigned) as a tribute to Cardinal Manning’s role as mediator in the Great Dock Strike of 1889 (Gorman, 1973: 19). It is a significant banner in the PHM collection, acquired from the Transport and General Workers’ Union (TGWU) in the early 1990s. It is a large double-sided format made from a single length of plain-woven royal blue silk with, before the final episode of conservation, reproduction crimson silk borders. The fringe, guide tapes and heading tape are no longer present. The oil-painted design occupies a large proportion of the banner and is surrounded by metallic paint scrolling details and pink highlights. As is almost always the case, the painted sections occupy the same space on both sides. The design on the face side is a head-and-shoulders portrait of Cardinal Manning. The reverse side shows the river Thames at Greenwich with several vessels with watermen and lightermen in front of the Royal Navy College, and the guild arms of the Worshipful Company of Lightermen in the background.

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Conservation history: what we know The first documented treatment is a reference in Banner Bright (Gorman, 1973: 28); the author describes cleaning the bloom from the banner using a mixture of ‘turps and linseed oil’. The image in the publication shows the banner with its original borders, pole and pole loops; a section of fringe and one of the guide tapes are also present. Large horizontal cracks are visible, and stitch holes in these areas indicate repair prior to 1973, probably while the banner was still in active use. Stitch holes through painted panels of union banners are a common indicator of historic repair. In 1989, while still owned by the TGWU, the banner was conserved at the Textile Conservation Centre (TCC) (Mackie, 1989). The condition report describes the banner as being in very poor condition with horizontal and vertical cracks through the paint, creasing and distortion and evidence of previous repairs which had been removed. The silk ground was very fragile, and the borders were lost but for a 10mm strip remaining on all four sides. The fringe, pole loops and guide tapes were missing. Further treatment had been undertaken for which there was no record: the banner was encased in dyed nylon net and held together with a regular grid of running stitches; the net was torn in places and the stitching was causing distortion. The TCC carried out full conservation including removal of the previous repair. The banner was supported with silk crepeline spray-coated with Vinnapas® EP1 (vinyl acetate–ethylene copolymer) and heat reactivated to the reverse side of the object. Additional strips of Mowilith® DMC2 (vinyl acetate dibutyl maleate co-polymer) film were added to some of the splits from the face side.1 An overlay of silk crepeline was added to the face side and secured with stitching. Replacement silk borders were made and the remains of the original borders secured to the new ones.

Why retreatment was necessary In 1996 the banner entered the PHM collection in poor condition. Areas of the adhesive support had failed, particularly across the large painted panel. It had also been packed poorly for storage and transport by the union, which led to overall distortion and crumpling. The deterioration of the condition of the banner was not comparable to similar treatments undertaken by the same studio, which were subsequently found to have remained in excellent condition. In 2003 PHM conservator Vivian Lochhead and the TCC initiated examination and analysis to identify the cause of the failure of the conservation. The conclusion was that the application method of spraying the adhesive film rather than casting it onto polythene was less able to cope with the repeated, uncontrolled handling of the banner outside of a museum context, despite the efforts of conservators to advise on the aftercare of the object (Rogerson & Lennard, 2005: 12). Although it is not thought that the banner was marched post-conservation, as is more likely with the other two examples, the considerable scale of the banner would have exacerbated any mishandling during display and the impact of any uncontrolled environmental conditions.

Retreatment When the banner was requested for display in 2015, the previous information was reviewed and the object’s condition re-assessed. In addition to the failure of areas of the adhesive support, some stitching had become loose, and in places the silk ground was powdery and tendered. Several treatment proposals were considered, ranging from full reversal of the previous conservation to partial reversal.

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Considering that the banner was part of the PHM collection, the least interventive approach was chosen to prevent further loss of silk while strengthening the large heavy painted panel. Sections of the silk crepeline applied to the painted panel on the reverse side were lifting away from the surface and no longer providing support. The crepeline was removed from this area mechanically and with industrial denatured alcohol (IDA) vapour where required, leaving enough to overlap with the new support. The Mowilith® films were also removed to prevent possible interaction between different adhesives. A new silk crepeline support was dyed to blend with the overall tone of the painting and cast with BEVA® 371 (ethylene vinyl acetate) adhesive in white spirit at a 1:2 concentration. The support was then heat reactivated, ensuring that a good bond was achieved at the overlap with the earlier conservation. Additional stitching was done using monofilament silk thread through the splits in the silk areas, without stitching directly through the powdery silk, to give extra support through the layers of the banner. Finally, a sleeve was attached to the top edge to enable display. Conservation has stipulated that, while the Cardinal Manning banner is able to hang for a year at a time, this will be limited to once every ten years due to the fragile nature of the silk.

2.  The banner of the North Stafford Miners’ Federation, Miners’ Lodge Sandford Hill The Sandford Hill banner was made by George Tutill between 1860 and 1890 and, from the patterns of damage, conservation and repair, was used periodically from the time of its production until its entry into the collection of the National Coal Mining Museum for England. The banner is of large format, with a jacquard-woven design of the popular cornucopia pattern in blue and silver, with bright pink borders. The face side oil-painted panel is a diorama of classic symbolic imagery surrounding the traditional scene of the union providing aid to the sick bed, and the reverse is an image of the Good Samaritan. The scroll reads ‘North Stafford Miners Federation’ on the face side, and ‘Miners Lodge Sandford Hill’ on the reverse. From areas of flaking paint and inconsistent line design, it is clear that the scroll has been overpainted during its history as is common with historic trade union banners. The guide tapes, brass engraved bosses and the entire lower border are completely absent, while the survival of the fringing tacked to the bottom seam of the central panel indicates at least partial repair and continued use of the banner following substantial damage. Photographs of the face and reverse of the banner in Banner Bright (Gorman, 1973: 98) show that, while the lower border was present in 1973, the tapes and bosses had already been lost or repaired at the time of the photograph. The photographs were taken prior to the application of a full conservation support on the reverse side.

Conservation history: what we know Without an available treatment report, all that is known about the past conservation of the Sandford Hill banner has been inferred from the banner itself. The conservation support is of dyed silk crepeline, applied in patches on the central panel over both painted and unpainted sections and in strips on the borders. Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy (FTIR) analysis by Cardiff University indicated that the adhesive used was Mowilith®, and this places the primary conservation treatment probably between 1970 and 1980. The support was applied over several areas of handstitched repair on the borders and the left-side boss within the jacquard panel. Stitches overlying

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the support to attach the fringe to the jacquard and the remains of the lower border indicate that the lower border was present at the time of conservation. Following conservation, the banner suffered at least two instances of catastrophic damage – the first resulting in the loss of the lower border and the second resulting in the complete fragmentation of the lower half of the banner and the loss of large areas of both the jacquard and border silk. This is likely to have happened shortly before the banner’s arrival into the museum (or shortly before the change of the site from active mine to museum), as the accessioned banner arrived for conservation treatment at the PHM in 2021 with a large bag of fragments of jacquard with the remains of the crepeline support still attached.

Why retreatment was necessary In this case, it seems that it was the silk crepeline itself that failed. During treatment it was necessary to mechanically remove the remains of the old silk support by sliding a scalpel blade between the adhesive and the silk of the banner. The silk of the conservation support and the silk of the banner were in varying degrees of fragility, but in nearly all cases the adhesive remained strong and intact. This may be partly due to the notably heavy or viscous application of the Mowilith® adhesive but may also relate to simple light damage of the silk while in use. Anecdotally, the studio is aware of fire-retardant sprays being applied to hang textiles in public buildings during the 1970s and 1980s; this may be a contributing factor but was not indicated in the FTIR analysis. The condition of the silk jacquard weave varied greatly across the banner – close to the original colour and strength at the top, but with areas of high fragility and discolouration at the bottom. This variation is common due to banners’ use in all weathers, display at ground level and storage rolled around the top pole, with the lower section outermost. This corresponds partially with the condition of the bond between the jacquard and the adhesive, as great movement of the banner during use has weakened the bond and severed the fibres themselves in the more fragile areas. Solvent testing of the silk crepeline indicated high deterioration across the whole banner, with the silk breaking down into fibres when IDA was applied to dissolve the Mowilith® adhesive.

Retreatment Decision-making for the conservation of the banner was led by the extreme fragility of the majority of the silk and the requirements of the museum for it to be able to withstand free-hanging display for the period of a year at a time. It was initially decided to fully support the banner with fresh silk crepeline on the reverse side, including the borders and painted sections, and to fill the areas of loss with dyed silk infill fabric (Figure 3.5.2). The adhesive was a 12% cast of 50:50 Lascaux 498 and 303 in deionized water. Although the silk crepeline had failed on the previous treatment, it was chosen in preference to semi-transparent Stabiltex® for a number of reasons. Silk crepeline is easier to obtain and to dye and more sympathetic to the existing materials of the banner. In terms of sustainability, silk crepeline is a preferable material as Stabiltex® is made of polyester. The face side of the banner was to remain unobscured if possible, but during treatment it became clear that the silk would continue to deteriorate rapidly if the banner was not fully encased. This is partly due to the rigorous display expectations, but also the unexpected survival of the bag of highly fragile pieces which needed to be incorporated. Removal of the original failed support uncovered a painted surface that was generally in far better condition than expected, so it was possible to keep all areas of it exposed apart from the reverse side scroll. It was necessary to consolidate the face side scroll with Lascaux Medium for 206

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Figure 3.5.2 Details of the Sandford Hill banner: before conservation (left) and after conservation (right). © People’s History Museum, courtesy of the National Coal Mining Museum.

Consolidation (4176) due to areas of historic overpainting flaking away from the substrate of the original layer. Dyed silk infills were applied between the reverse and face side support applications to stabilize areas of loss. The heat of the application of the face side support secured the adhesive on both sides, and monofilament silk thread was used to stitch through all layers to combat the powdering of the textile and separation of the layers with movement during use. The missing lower border was replaced with dyed silk, and the original fringing was repaired and stitched to the bottom of the border. The silk sleeve attached along the top of the banner for display was dyed to match the woollen heading tape at the request of the owning institution (Figure 3.5.3).

3.  The banner of the National Union of Mineworkers, Derbyshire Area This banner is not held in a museum collection but is owned by Derbyshire Miners’ Welfare Scheme and is still in active use at the time of writing. This means uncased display in the union office and outdoor use at significant events such as members’ funerals. Smaller than the previous two, and more recent by almost 100 years, it is a single layer, double-sided banner in the same traditional style. It is made of a central panel of red twill-woven rayon with yellow plain-weave rayon borders, yellow synthetic fringe and red twill-woven cotton header tape, pole loops and guide tape. The banner was made by Turtle & Pearce, successors to Tutill, as indicated by the painted signature ‘T & P London’, and is dated ‘71’. The acrylic-painted sections are mirrored front and back. Both depict a mineworks site with, beneath it, a full figure of a crouched miner and drill at the coal face lit only by a headlamp. 207

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Figure 3.5.3 Sandford Hill banner after conservation. © People’s History Museum, courtesy of the National Coal Mining Museum.

Conservation history: what we know As the previous treatment was carried out by a previous incarnation of the PHM conservation studio, the complete documentation was available, from the full estimate carried out from February 1997, to the final report written in August 1998 by Susanne Kristensen. Comprehensive workshop notes detailed each stage of treatment. Numerous disfiguring repairs, both stitched and adhered, were removed to allow for full conservation. It was cleaned mechanically and solvent cleaned to reduce the adhesive staining. Much of the structural damage to the banner was characteristic: splits at the interface between the painted areas and the rayon ground, as in both the Cardinal Manning and Sandford Hill banners. As is often the case, due to the size of the textiles and the relative weight of painted areas, it was thought necessary to apply a full support to the reverse side of the banner and overlay supplementary patches to the face side. These silk crepeline supports were coloured with Helizarin® screen printing pigments so that the original colours of textile and paints would not be masked by the overlay. Using a template, the crepeline was then cast with two kinds of adhesive: BEVA® 371 for the painted sections and Lascaux (360 and 498 1:1 as a 10% solution in deionized water) for the textile, and heat reactivated. As well as stitched patch repairs on the border top corners, additional stitching was applied to secure the partial face side support at the edges. Despite the double-sided support, these reinforcing stitches were applied because of the likelihood of the banner being returned to active use following conservation.

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Why retreatment was necessary Following the 1990s conservation, the object was returned to the owner. Conversations with client stakeholders about the continued active life of the banner directed conservators to create storage systems and a custom-made waterproof cover to facilitate safe handling. Active use of the banner was agreed to be only in exceptional circumstances, and according to advice on its care and handling. However, in 2021 the banner returned to the studio after suffering significant damage and a failure of the conservation in all areas. The waterproof cover was lost, splits in both textile and painted areas had worsened, the crepeline supports had lifted and torn, and new light damage was visible across the face side. Despite the aftercare plans of the original client, custodial responsibility of the banner is thought to have changed hands in the 20 years since it was conserved, and the storage and handling were not appropriate. In the case of this banner, both the adhesive bond and the structural integrity of the crepeline failed under the conditions to which it was exposed. The areas of Lascaux were more badly deteriorated than the areas of BEVA®, but the silk crepeline had torn in all areas. Further strength testing following reversal of the original treatment indicated, as on the Sandford Hill banner but to a lesser extent, that the silk crepeline support had become highly brittle, probably due to the uncontrolled light levels to which it was exposed. In this case, the thorough approach was not sufficient to protect the banner in an active use context and away from the care and advice of the initial custodianship. As we have seen with the Cardinal Manning banner, this is not uncommon, and the PHM Conservation Studio is aware that, while these objects have significant cultural importance to communities, they remain extremely difficult to care for.

Retreatment Decisions for the retreatment of the Derbyshire National Union of Mineworkers (NUM) banner were led by an understanding of the returning context and future use, as happened 20 years ago, but with additional factors taken into account. In the same way as the Sandford Hill banner, it was decided to follow the option of encasing the banner in silk crepeline supports on both the face and reverse sides. Although this banner was in far more stable condition, it was decided that its unpredictable future use life warranted a ‘belt and braces’ approach. The crepeline was coloured in the same way as in the previous treatment and cast with 12% of 50:50 Lascaux 498 and 303 in deionized water. The central painted roundel, exposed in the previous treatment, was supported on both sides with dyed silk crepeline cast with BEVA® 371 (Figure 3.5.4). The borders were patch supported with dyed silk habutai and couching stitches, aided by the removal of the heading tape to allow reshaping of the distorted upper part of the banner. This object is not intended for static museum display, and the important emotional significance it holds for the community means that future treatment must be able to withstand active use. However, through close discussions with the client and stakeholders, it is clear that there is a significant change in attitude, to the banner and to the future of the union members. The phrase used ‘only going out for four more funerals’ is intentionally light-hearted, but it indicates that the communities themselves are changing, and in the coming 20 years the custodians of the banner will be caring for a symbol of the past, rather than of the present. To cater for this change in use, the clients have designed a display case for the banner in the Miners’ Welfare Centre, and they intend to use the detailed photographs provided by the studio after conservation to have a replica printed for use at events. With the lessons learned from this

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Figure 3.5.4 Kloë Rumsey reactivating the adhesive support of the Derbyshire NUM banner. © People’s History Museum, courtesy of the Derbyshire Miners’ Welfare Scheme. 

project, the studio expanded packing and handling aftercare advice to a more extensive document, including video training. While working with community members, it is clear that banner custodians are keen to learn the safest ways to care for them and find their misuse and damage just as upsetting as we do in a museum context.

Conclusions Through the development of a specialism over 30 years, the PHM Conservation Studio has seen a whole host of different conservation solutions age in a range of display and storage environments. In the controllable life of museum display, treatments continue to withstand display conditions for 30+ years without significant deterioration, despite continual access to the collection and freehanging display periods of a year at a time. In the unpredictable world of stakeholder display and use, however, significant deterioration of banners and failure of conservation treatments have been seen. The treatments themselves fail in unpredictable ways, based on both the nature of the treatment and the nature of the banner use following conservation. The longevity of conservation treatments has been a topic of discussion in conservation since the development of the discipline. The profession is familiar with planning for the failure of treatments, and often treatments are planned to fail preferentially over further damage to the object. However, with active use of collections by stakeholders, the reasonable lifetime of a treatment is likely to be shorter. Retreatment and future conservation treatments must be considerate of the probable future use of the banner. Many retreatment options available are the same as or similar to the original conservation treatment but are applied to a textile of greater fragility. 210

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Treatments must include additional elements such as stabilization stitches and ­encasement to ­ensure greater longevity of the object (Mailand, 2003: 64). Additionally, more complete information on the care of banners must be provided with transparency for stakeholders about the ways that banner use and care will affect their deterioration. Whilst the level of degradation control achievable may not be equivalent outside a museum context, by communicating effective object care and handling, stakeholders are not only practically equipped but have conveyed to them an autonomy in object care which facilitates ongoing preservation (Meijer, 2014: 5). PHM Conservation Studio has started developing video content to help stakeholders and banner users care for their banners during use and storage, explaining and demonstrating techniques and equipment in an accessible manner to aid best-practice preservation. This content is at present intended for circulation to clients and stakeholders, but further advisory resources could be developed in future to meet the needs of a wider audience. At the same time, there is a significant change in the dynamic of stakeholder communities. Generations are growing older, and what was formerly seen as ‘active’ is becoming ‘historic’. Replicas are becoming more popular with communities, aided by the development of digital printing technologies and cost accessibility, and this is often discussed in conjunction with the conservation of the original banner for display in community or heritage premises, rather than for active use (Raeside-Elliot, 2020; and see the case study by Rendell et al. in this chapter).

References Gorman, J. (1973). Banner bright, an illustrated history of trade union banners. Buckhurst Hill, Essex: Scorpio. Hillyer, L., Tinker, Z. & Singer, P. (1997). Evaluating the use of adhesives in textile conservation. Part 1: an overview and surveys of current use. The Conservator, 21, 37–47. Lennard, F. & Lochhead, V. (2003). United we stand! The conservation of trade union banners. In J. Vuori (Ed.), Tales in the textile. The conservation of flags and other symbolic textiles. Preprints, 4th NATCC, 2003, Albany NY (pp. 11–118). NATCC. Mackie, K. (1989). Report on the treatment of the Cardinal Manning banner, TCC 1085. Unpublished conservation report, Textile Conservation Centre. Mailand, H.F. (2003). Looking at our history, listening to our client. In J. Vuori (Ed.), Tales in the textile. The conservation of flags and other symbolic textiles. Preprints, NATCC, 2003, Albany NY (pp. 63–70). NATCC. Meijer, S. (2014). Bonding issues? Adhesive treatments past and present in the Rijksmuseum. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2014, Melbourne. Paris: ICOM. Raeside-Elliott, F. (2020). The contemporary Durham Miners’ banner: a unique expression for post-industrial communities? Journal of Textile Design and Research Practice, 8(2), 143–171. Rogerson, C.E. & Lennard, F.J. (2005). Billowing silk and bendable binders: is flexibility the key to ­understanding banner behaviour? In R. Janaway & P. Wyeth (Eds), Scientific analysis of ancient and ­historic textiles: informing preservation, display and interpretation (pp. 12–18). London: Archetype.

Note * Published in 2024. 1 See Hillyer et al. (1997) for further information on historic use of adhesives in conservation.

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3.6 THE SCOTS COLOURS AT TOITŪ OTAGO SETTLERS MUSEUM* Use, preservation and protocol Fiona McLaughlan, Claire Orbell, Anne Peranteau

On 16 April 2016 two Regimental flags, referred to as the ‘Scots Colours’, were ‘laid up’ or transferred to Toitū Otago Settlers Museum (TOSM) for long-term loan by the New Zealand Defence Force (NZDF). TOSM is a local government-run social history museum in Dunedin, a city in New Zealand’s South Island. The museum was founded in 1898 under the auspices of the Otago Early Settlers Association. This date corresponded to the first migrants arriving from Britain under the Otago settlement scheme, 50 years prior. The collections are ‘dedicated to the collection, preservation and interpretation of items relating to the human settlement and heritage of Ōtepoti Dunedin and the Otago region’.1 The transfer of custodianship of the flags was a significant event for the museum and city alike. Dignitaries including the mayor, city council CEO, and NZDF senior officers were in attendance. The public and press lined the streets as military tanks and marching band paraded with much ceremony. This was the culmination of the relationship between the museum and the NZDF that had begun in 2013 when TOSM developed a temporary exhibition exploring the ‘Scottishness’ of Dunedin. Major General Peter Kelly, MNZM, explains the decision to store the flags at TOSM: ‘Defence Orders stipulate that if colours are replaced or if the unit is disbanded, the old colours of the unit are to be laid up in a church or other approved civic or public building’.2 However, in this case the decision was taken by the NZDF not to allow the Colours to disintegrate: When colours are laid up in a church, this has traditionally meant that the colours are not to be moved but remain in place until they turn to dust. By laying up the colours at Toitu [sic], however, the intent is that the colours be preserved. To achieve this, the Defence Force realises that the colours will need to be placed in controlled storage … . and that other interventions may, occasionally, also be required.3 As such, the preservation of the Scots Colours at TOSM is a great honour. Because they remain the property of the Crown, the care and display of the flags remain to some extent guided by the NZDF procedures and protocols, and these influence museological practice. DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-26212

The Scots Colours at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum

This case study will describe the approach to care and conservation of the flags in the context of the agreement between NZDF and the custodial role played by TOSM. In comparison with TOSM collections acquired historically and displayed without the same degree of external community input, more negotiation and calibration of risk tolerance has been required. Amidst this, the museum fulfils its commitments to the community whilst being without textile conservation expertise on staff; the impacts of this are discussed. In 2013 TOSM approached the 2/4 Battalion RNZIR (Royal New Zealand Infantry Regiment) with a request to borrow the NZ Scottish Regiment Colours for display in a temporary exhibition called DUNedinburgh. This exhibition showcased the Scottish collections of TOSM, supplemented by loans from the National Museum of Scotland and from the local community. At the time of the 2013 request, the Colours were still commissioned, so the display was subject to military protocols. Open display would have dictated that defence force personnel be present in the gallery 24 hours a day, making this an untenable option. Following negotiations, it was agreed that the Colours could be installed inside secure display cases for the period of the exhibition on the condition that military protocols encompassing both handling and positioning were met. A formal loan agreement was put in place, and the Colours became a focal point of the temporary exhibition.

The flags The two Colours are the Scots Queen’s Colour and the Scots Regimental Colour of the New ­Zealand Scottish Regiment. The unit was formed on 17 January 1939 and was known as the 1st Bn, NZ Scottish Regt; it was mobilized during the outbreak of the Second World War. The unit underwent many reorganizations until the Scottish Regiment (NZ Scots) was disestablished in 1990. In 2013 the Chief of Defence Force formally disbanded the unit. The Scots Queen’s Colour is described as ‘The Great Union, bearing in the centre a circlet containing the title “New Zealand Scottish Regiment” and numeral … the Colour is to be of embroidered silk and fringed with crimson and gold mix’. The Scots Regimental Colours is described thus: The Regimental Badge with the National Wreath. Around this, the outer wreath emblazoned with the battle honours … In the corners are the Numeral, The Tactical Sign of the New Zealand Divisional cavalry and the badges of the Allied Regiments, the Royal Scots Greys (Second Dragoons) and The Black Watch (Royal Highland Regiment) … the Colour is to be of silk, embroidered, and fringed with royal blue and gold mixed (The New Zealand Scottish Regiment, 2016: 2). The Regimental Colour also includes New Zealand iconography of the fern, kōwhai and pōhutukawa. Each Colour has its own pike made from a single length of specially selected ash wood, stained and French-polished. The pike measures approximately 2.5m, and attached to the top is a 150mm high royal gilt crest. A cord and tassel of gold and red mix feeds through two gilt rings in the finial and the brass grommet at the top of the flag, securing the flag to the pike. The Colours were made by the Commonwealth Clothing Factory in Melbourne, Australia and embroidered by Hobson & Sons, UK.4 The Colours carry on a tradition begun in 1751 allowing Infantry regiments to carry two Colours, and they are a physical representation of the spirit of the regiment because they bear the battle honours and badges granted to the regiment. While the Colours were commissioned, they were permanently displayed in a wall-mounted case at the NZDF Kensington Drill Hall in Dunedin. As the case was located in an office, the Colours 213

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Figure 3.6.1 Placing the Scots Colours in their custom-made covers at Kensington Drill Hall in preparation for laying up at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum. On loan from New Zealand Defence Force. Used with permission from Toitū Otago Settlers Museum.

were exposed to both artificial and natural light. Due to the protocol – the Scots Queen’s Colour is always displayed on the left and the Scots Regimental Colour is always on the right – only one side of the flags would ever be seen and therefore accumulate the most light exposure and subsequent damage. When the Colours were transported from the Kensington Drill Hall, they were rolled around the pike and inserted into custom-made covers (Figure 3.6.1). For the deteriorated embroidery on the Regimental Colour, this would have been problematic and exacerbated existing damage.

The context – Toitū While the flags are on deposit at TOSM, they are still subject to NZDF protocols around handling, display, and storage. Some of these specifications have been easy to accommodate, such as the use of white cotton gloves. Other aspects have had to be negotiated to be practical in a museum context, and where long-term preservation has become a goal alongside adherence to military regulations. A new loan agreement was produced when the Scots Colours were laid up in 2016, taking into account their permanent relocation into the museum’s care. The following special conditions were put in place as part of that documentation: 1) The Lender (NZDF) is to be consulted on each occasion that the Colours are to be publicly displayed, and provided with full details about the manner in which the Colours are to be displayed. 2) The Lender (NZDF) is to be consulted on each occasion that it is proposed that conservation treatment be carried out on the Colours. 3) The Museum will agree 214

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to requests by the public to view the Colours when the Colours are not on public display, subject to a reasonable period of notice. 4) The Colours are to be treated at all times by the Museum with the respect due to consecrated objects which are considered to embody the spirit of the New Zealand Scottish Regiment and its successors. The Colours must only be handled while wearing white cotton gloves. In addition to these loan agreement conditions, the military protocols which determine aspects of public display, such as orientation and the positioning of each Colour relative to the other, were written into a supplementary document that is held in the loan file for reference when required. The Colours are displayed annually for two weeks around Anzac Day in association with a wider Dunedin City Council commemoration programme. A dawn service is held at the Queens Gardens memorial opposite the museum, and visitors are invited into the museum after the event, resulting in the Colours being viewed by an average of 450 people on the day. A few days prior to display, the Colours are removed from storage, put onto their pikes and installed at height on a bespoke stand using an elevated work platform. The layout of the military gallery is compact, so subsequently location and lighting options for the Colours are limited. Following NZDF protocols and discussion with the curator, the decision was taken to display the Colours on top of a permanent vitrine lighting them from the front only (Figure 3.6.2). Whereas incident light levels in longer-term textile displays is typically maintained at 50 lux, the decision was taken to display

Figure 3.6.2 Annual installation of the Scots Colours for Anzac Day remembrance in the Military Gallery at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum. On loan from New Zealand Defence Force. Used with permission from Toitū Otago Settlers Museum.

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the Colours at 100 lux. The increase in the light level ensures legibility of the embroidered motifs and was offset by the short-term annual display. Displaying the Colours in this manner not only makes them extremely visible and dynamic but also keeps them out of public reach and supports long-term preservation goals.

Caring for the flags Since they were deposited by the NZDF, changes have been made to the long-term storage of the flags, pikes and finials. As the NZDF’s rationale to deposit the Colours was for long-term preservation, they were amenable to the museum’s recommendations to store each Colour separately from its corresponding set of tassel and cord, and pike and finial. The storage solution for the Colours went through many iterations. Initially, a self-contained drawer unit with separate compartments for the Colour and cord and tassel was considered. However, after taking into consideration the size of the Colours – they slightly differ in size but measure approximately 1.2m × 1m – this solution proved to be unwieldy and time-consuming for a small department to move – ­particularly in the scenario of a NZDF spot check for audit requirements. The decision was taken to construct individual custom-made boxes from acid-free card for housing the Colours and cords separately. The protocols surrounding these objects were applied to both the exterior and interior of the boxes. The box inserts for the cords were custom made by Claire Orbell, TOSM Registrar, to prevent damage to the cords and tassels caused by shifting when handling the boxes (Figure 3.6.3). The pikes and finials are stored on long-length racking.

Figure 3.6.3 Claire Orbell, TOSM Registrar, packing away cord and tassels in custom-made boxes. On loan from New Zealand Defence Force. Used with permission from Toitū Otago Settlers Museum.

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Documentation was undertaken to ensure that these elements could be reassembled and d­ isassembled appropriately, before and after each period of display. Gerry Costello, the Regimental Colours Warrant Officer for 2/4 Battalion at the time the Colours were laid up, liaised with TOSM staff to demonstrate how to remove the cord and Colour from the pike. This procedure was ­captured on video and has proven to be an invaluable resource. NZDF Orders state that when Colours have been laid up, they remain the property of The Crown in perpetuity. This status means there is a requirement for the museum to provide access to delegated NZDF personnel for an annual inspection of the Colours. The Registrar facilitates this audit process and arranges access to the Colours in storage. Alongside this formal inspection, the Colours must be made available for any viewing requests by researchers and members of the public, including former members of the NZ Scottish Regiment. These are a privilege to facilitate; the visits have been emotional for ex-members, some of whom have undertaken international travel to achieve it. The enduring connection to the Colours as a symbol of their Regiment, as well as pride in their service, is obvious at such times. The terms of the long-term deposit that have been put in place by NZDF in relation to access signal a commitment to preserve the Colours in a way that will facilitate these types of connections for generations to come. Over the seven years since being laid up, requests for access to the Colours have amounted to only 3% of the annual collection object access requests managed by the TOSM Collections Team. When the Colours were deposited into the museum’s care in 2016, a baseline condition report was completed. A programme of annual monitoring has since been undertaken in association with each two-week period of display, to document condition before and after display. Reporting in 2018 indicated that the yellow embroidery threads on the Regimental Colour (previously noted as being in poor condition) were deteriorating further, and in some cases, threads were detaching completely. To safeguard from further damage from handling, and in consultation with the NZDF, the decision was taken to engage textile conservator Anne Peranteau to undertake assessment and treatment. Claire Orbell, TOSM Registrar, initiated conversations with the NZDF regarding the need for the conservator to handle the Colours without wearing white cotton gloves in order to undertake the agreed treatments, and this exception to the handling protocols set out in the Inward Loan Agreement was approved. To facilitate treatment, the flags were rolled and crated for transit to the North Island, as there are no textile conservators in private practice in New Zealand’s South Island. A conservation assessment carried out in 2018 noted structural weakness of both Colours, with the silk ground of the green Regimental flag slightly crisper relative to the red, cream and navy silk of the Queen’s Colour. The latter had a slightly more flexible hand, with the main condition issues being dye bleed in the lower right quadrant, loose stitching along the hoist sleeve seam and some pulling away of the ground fabric around the metal grommets adjacent to the sleeve. Treatment of the Queen’s Colour focused on structural stability. A heat-cut Stabiltex® overlay was applied to the area around the grommet, and the hoist sleeve seam was restitched; hairsilk was used in both cases. Overlays and restitching made use of original seams and stitch holes. The damage to the Regimental Colour was more extensive, with losses to the pale gold silk embroidery throughout the laurel leaves, battle honours and the circular borders of the central insignia. It was observed that throughout the leaves, the breaks in the silk floss tended to occur just at the point of contact with the silk faille ground, where the threads turned towards the opposing face of the flag, and the extent of loss on the obverse of the flag often correlated spatially with the condition of the silk floss on the reverse. Opposing compression and flexion forces may have caused the embrittled yellow silk floss to split as the flag was rolled repeatedly around the pike each time it was used and subsequently stored. Notably, the adjacent orange and brown silk 217

Fiona McLaughlan, Claire Orbell, Anne Peranteau

Figure 3.6.4 Detail of the obverse of the Regimental Colour: above, before treatment, showing the ranking of different areas; below, after treatment. Image copyright of Anne Peranteau and used with permission.

embroidery remains in good condition, suggesting manufacturing aspects of the yellow silk may have predisposed it to deterioration. The hoist sleeve of the Regimental Colour had 15–20mm splits along the fold at both the top and bottom. A small 5mm hole was present near the battalion number insignia (Roman numeral I), and detaching of the seam was observed in the green silk ground around the brass grommet, possibly due to the forces imposed on the top left of the flag by traditional display, where this area experiences the strongest effects from the force of gravity. The gold fringe was detached from the silk ground along the edge in several locations. In developing the conservation treatment approach for the Regimental Colours, the primary goals were to strengthen and protect weak and fragile areas, to secure detached metallic fringe, and to address the significant losses to the areas embroidered in yellow silk floss. The treatment protocol had to take into consideration factors including probable causes of damage, assessment of future risk and mitigation strategies, and the specific mounting requirements determined by TOSM with input from NZDF. The application of an overall support layer was considered but judged to be unwarranted to address small local damages, where no change to their condition had been observed following two cycles of display in 2017–2018. It was observed that the small hole and detached seam at the upper left were not at extreme risk of worsening with careful handling, and the fabric was largely

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intact. The character of the silk was such that a hole made by a needle was somewhat undiminished in size once the needle was drawn through. It was judged that the stitching required to attach a support lining was more likely to have the negative effect of perforating the flag versus preventing imminent damage from a two-week display.5 This likelihood of damage can be anticipated to change as the flag ages, but given much of its condition was due to past use, it was judged that it had not reached the stage where short-term display would definitely cause it. Moreover, any support fabric applied overall would need to be selectively removed from some embroidered areas to prevent visually obscuring them, implying a very time-consuming subsequent step. Hence a patch support of dyed green nylon net was applied to the top left corner of the flag, and treatment time was prioritized for stabilization, protection of fragile silk embroidery, loss compensation for the most damaged motifs, and stabilization of the hoist sleeve. Mapping the condition of the circular borders of the central insignia, laurel leaves, and battle honours was completed to guide the next steps. These areas were assigned a ranking of between 1 and 4, corresponding to the treatment required: 1– no treatment required; 2 – loose threads to be tacked down or laid and couching stitches applied over the area; 3 – net overlay secured over the motif; 4 – net overlay secured over the motif and loss compensation carried out over the top of the overlay (Figure 3.6.4). The approach to compensation ensured that the loss compensation would be visually sympathetic whilst obviously not original to the flag. Fifty-four areas were assigned a ranking of 3 or 4; nearly all were in the lower half of the flag, and the obverse was in slightly worse condition than the reverse. Custom-dyed overlays were prepared and secured using hairsilk, stitching through the holes already present from the embroidery and adjacent undamaged areas (i.e., those unexposed to light). Where a leaf shape was damaged to the extent that both sides had a 3 or 4 ranking, one set of applied stitches served to secure the overlays to both obverse and reverse. Following this step, the excess net was trimmed away, and couching and tacking stitches were used to secure loose embroidery in those areas assigned a 2 ranking. Finally, loss compensation was carried out over the top of the net overlays for those areas assigned a 4 ranking using custom-dyed silk embroidery floss. The dyed floss was drawn through the original stitch holes and the nylon netting to secure it in place. The floss is readily distinguishable as non-original to the flag as it rests over the top of the protective overlays and is single ply as opposed to the two-ply original embroidery threads. The splits in the hoist sleeves were treated with dyed silk habutai supports, secured with laid and couching stitches. Detached metallic fringe was secured using dark green cotton thread of a similar thickness to the original thread used. This treatment was completed in the context of regular care, where monitoring and assessment of condition aspects are carried out by a conservator and a collection manager as part of ongoing ­decision-making. Unfortunately, due to the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic and subsequent national lockdown in New Zealand, the Colours were not displayed until 2021, two years after the treatment was completed. The conservation treatment was very successful at providing support to the Colours whilst being unobtrusive to the museum visitor. Post-display condition reporting in 2022 indicated that while the ground fabrics and embroidery remained stable, the condition of the cords was now beginning to deteriorate to the point where they require conservation stabilization in the near future. Being mindful of the importance of the access, the protocols surrounding the flags, and the broader context of care of the flags informed the risk versus benefit judgements underpinning the treatment. As the responsibility for the Colours is shared between TOSM and the NZDF stakeholders, the communications between all parties around risk and what to look for when conducting routine assessments have been as important as the treatment itself.

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Challenges Since 2012 the TOSM Material Cultures gallery has displayed over 200 textiles and associated materials from the collection, a tradition carried on from the earliest days of the museum. When the NZDF made a conscious decision to make the Colours available in a civic rather than an ecclesiastical context, this was a great honour for the museum. However, the onus is now on the museum to facilitate public access to and preserve the Colours. This is also complicated by TOSM having only one conservator on staff who has minimal textile conservation experience. It is almost certain that the Colours and cords will have to undergo further conservation treatment in the future, with accompanying financial implications for a local government museum. In 2015, the need for long-term care was raised as part of the discussions around the Colours coming into the museum and was generally recognized. In reality, the annual display of the Scots Colours has highlighted the specialized textile conservation needs vis-à-vis a scarcity of resources, both in terms of textile conservators in New Zealand6 and limited museum revenue. The conservation treatment was focused on priority criteria but must be seen as an interim measure to ensure that the flags could, in the short term, continue to be displayed according to the current loan agreement with the NZDF. However, challenges always provide opportunities, and in the case of the Colours, to explore alternate avenues to raise the profile of the Colours and their conservation.7 The public interest in museum ‘back of house’ activities has been used as a tool to promote conservation awareness. The museum has utilized social media channels such as Facebook and Instagram, along with a museum website, to raise the profile and conservation of the Scots Colours.8 Other avenues to be explored include generating exhibition content more specific to the Colours, in particular for a social history museum, highlighting their social value. Interviews with stakeholders such as NZDF, Returned Servicemen Association, and ex-service Scot Regiment personnel would explore their relationship with the Colours and what they represent for them. These could be shown in a small theatrette in the Military Gallery around the time of the Anzac Day display, giving the flags context whilst on display. TOSM staff – director, curator, collections manager, registrar, conservator – would be interviewed for the website about the Colours, their importance, the responsibility of looking after them, and what this involves. In terms of the long-term preservation of the Colours, the NZDF, in recent conversations, have indicated that they are open to alternative methods of display such as a digitally printed reproduction. They are also open to exploring the alternative methods of interpreting the Colours, as discussed above, outside the two-week display window around Anzac Day. However, the underlying principle of any decisions made around the Colours is that it enables the public and stakeholders to engage with a physical representation of the connection to Anzac Day and NZ military engagements around the world, which is deeply rooted in the NZ psyche.

Acknowledgements The authors would like to thank Matthew Buck, Senior Advisor Heritage, NZDF.

References Ladanyi, S. (1982). Appendix three – the Colours. In The New Zealand Scottish Regiment; a brief history 1939–1982 (pp. 38–42). Christchurch: University of Canterbury. Rowe, B. (2003). What so proudly we hailed: one museum’s effort to conserve historic flags. In J. Vuori (Ed.), Tales in the textile. The conservation of flags and other symbolic textiles. Preprints, 4th NATCC, 2003, Albany NY (pp. 71–78). Albany NY: NATCC.

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The Scots Colours at Toitū Otago Settlers Museum The New Zealand Scottish Regiment, RNZAC (2016). A souvenir program of the laying up of Colours. ­Dunedin: The New Zealand Scottish Regiment. Thomsen, F. (2003). MFAH Texas flags: 1836–1945, flags as fine art? In J. Vuori (Ed.), Tales in the­ textile. The conservation of flags and other symbolic textiles. Preprints, 4th NATCC, 2003, Albany NY (pp. 93–98). Albany NY: NATCC. Tonkin, L. & Chatfield, K. (2012). Camera rolling, speed… and action: exhibiting the conservation of banners through film. In A. Holden, S. Stevens, J. Carlson, G. Petersen, E. Schuetz & R. Summerour (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2012, Albuquerque NM (pp. 7–18). Washington DC: AIC. Trupin, D. (2003). Flag conservation then and now. In J. Vuori (Ed.), Tales in the ­textile. The conservation of flags and other symbolic textiles. Preprints, 4th NATCC, 2003, Albany NY (pp. 55–62). Albany NY: NATCC.

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 Toitū Otago Settlers Museum. Collections Policy, 2022. 2 Personal communication, Peter Kelly, 17 March 2016. 3 Personal communication, Peter Kelly, 17 March 2016. 4 The administrative and logistical process that resulted in the creation of the NZ Scots Colours is summarized by Stephen Ladanyi in The New Zealand Scottish Regiment: A Brief History 1939–1982 (1982: 38–42). 5 The historic treatment of flags in America in the early to mid twentieth century has been well documented, providing important evidence to assist the conservator in gauging potential long-term effects of stitched support treatments of silk flags (Trupin, 2003). 6 The website for the New Zealand Conservators of Cultural Materials lists two conservators who have trained in and specialize solely in textile conservation. (As a personal observation, it is interesting to note that the majority of public enquiries received at the museum are about the care of archives and textiles.) 7 Exhibition content and public programming on conservation of flags elsewhere have enhanced visitor understanding and generated donations in support of fundraising goals. See Rowe, 2003; Thomsen, 2003; Tonkin & Chatfield, 2012. 8 Conservation and collection care content: http://www.toituosm.com

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3.7 PRESERVING MATERIALS AND PRESERVING MEANING* Marie Watt’s Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014 Alexandra Barlow

Introduction This case study discusses how dialogue with the artist Marie Watt informed choices made by the Department of Textile Conservation at The Metropolitan Museum of Art (The Met) during the acquisition, display, and storage of Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014 (#2021.46). It will also explore how, now that it is in the permanent collection, conservation guidelines and documentation of this collectively made artwork will be passed along to future conservators. Our approach to Dream Catcher was developed within the evolving field of textile conservation, a profession guided by ethical principles that have been adjusted and matured through discourse, experience, and varied perspectives. A member of the Seneca Nation of Indians as well as having German-Scottish ancestry, M ­ arie Watt is an American artist.1 Dream Catcher is composed of older, reclaimed textiles stitched together within open-to-the-community sewing circles organized by the artist. Acquired as part of the American Wing collection, it was first displayed at The Met in the exhibition Art of Native America from May 2021 to June 2022. In preparation, textile conservators had the opportunity to meet the artist to gain further perspective on the work and its long-term care. Many of the materials used were in fragile condition, but we discovered that to conserve these elements with conventional methods might paradoxically weaken their meaning and dynamic in a larger context. For necessary structural repairs, we consulted with the artist, who encouraged us to see ourselves as an extension of the community sewing circles that originally constructed the artwork, not separate from them.

Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection The 2018 opening of Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection marked a location change in the collecting and presentation of Indigenous American art at The Met. Previously, historical Native American works were held in the Department of the Arts of Africa,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-27222

Preserving Marie Watt’s Untitled (Dream Catcher)

Figure 3.7.1 Obverse of Marie Watt’s Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014. Reclaimed wool blankets, satin binding, and thread, 9 ft. 11½ in. × 8 ft. 3½ in. × 11 in. (3035 × 2527 × 279mm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Morris K. Jesup Fund, 2021 (2021.46). Images © The Metropolitan Museum of Art/artwork © Marie Watt.

Oceania, and the Americas, now The Michael C. Rockefeller Wing. This transition also extended to the conservation care of many Native American textiles, which are now the responsibility of the Department of Textile Conservation. This evolution has encouraged dialogue and ongoing collaboration across multiple departments.2

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Patricia Marroquin Norby (Purépecha) joined the American Wing in 2020 as the first Associate Curator of Native American Art. Norby brought with her a curatorial perspective shaped by years of collaboration with Indigenous artists and communities. She emphasized the importance of presenting work by contemporary Indigenous artists in dialogue with historical production in the 2021 rotation of Art of Native America. Marie Watt’s work was the first acquisition made by Norby, who identified the need for the galleries to have more representation of the Indigenous communities in New York State and advocated for featuring work by a contemporary Native woman from the region at the entrance to the ongoing installation.3

Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014 Dream Catcher is one of many of Marie Watt’s pieces created in a community sewing circle. Its creation began in 2010 at the Sheldon Museum of Art. Original participants were students and Indigenous community partners in Lincoln, Nebraska. The work continued in the Portland, Oregon area and was completed in 2014.4 Marie describes her practice of sewing circles: I started hosting open to the community sewing circles in 2004. These gatherings around collective making are not meant to be confused with sewing bees which were used by missionaries to colonize Indigenous women and girls. At first my approach to sewing circles was in the spirit of a barn raising. Many hands make light work and neighborly help is reciprocated. Or generative reciprocal work and community exchange. My invitation went using email, prior to the advent of social media apps, and it read: No sewing experience necessary, come and go as you wish, feel free to invite others, and I will feed you. I also started making small, limited prints given in acknowledgment of stitches. What brings me back is the ritual of gathering and making and in a sense setting a table for sewing circles is the community connections that are forged in the process of stitching. You might look at this piece and think what is made is the object, but for me and participants what is made is conversation. When eyes are diverted and stitches silently accumulate, stories flow. What is made is a call and response. What is made is someone learning a new stitch from a neighbor or another riffing like jazz creating energy in the room with a new chord. An idea flowing from head to hand to thread. Sometimes accompanied by words that are in sync with the action and at other times beautiful dissonance. In a time when technology mediates the way we know one another, sewing circles create an opportunity for first person exchange and connecting with others whom we might not otherwise meet. If you look closely, you will notice when the hand of a stitch changes. For me, the web of interesting stitches is an actualized metaphor that reveals we are all connected.5

Textiles at The Met The Department of Textile Conservation at The Met was established in 1973, developing early textile conservation methods that still guide the current generation of conservators. The accumulated knowledge of 50 years has allowed many conservation practices to be tried, tested, and sometimes considerably revised when needed. Materials, techniques, and health and safety practices have shifted over the decades. Conservation philosophy has also been refined considering the ethical and practical considerations that guide our work. Many textiles in museum collections are made by unknown artists and craftspeople. Conservators can seldom speak with these originators about their intentions. Therefore, informed treatments are the result of conservation training, research, prior experiences, and current museum standards. 224

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Treatment and display decisions are made by conservators in consultation with scientists, outside colleagues, and curators. Working with Marie Watt was an opportunity to understand her intent, explain discuss technical issues, and provide guidelines that clarified what should and should not be altered. Dream Catcher presented familiar materials in an unexpected context and challenged the conservators to question what might be the appropriate methods of care.

Materials and construction Dream Catcher is made of deconstructed wool blankets that have been reassembled and stitched together by hand. The body of the textile work is composed of both plaid and solid-dyed blankets cut into diamond shapes of varying sizes and pieced together into concentric circles. Satin edge bindings have also been cut from blankets in strips, stitched together, intertwined, and secured at the top of the textile at both ends. They hang freely as large loops down the face of the textile, falling below the bottom edge when hanging (Figure 3.7.1). The reverse is also composed of reclaimed wool blankets (Figure 3.7.2, left), which are cut, layered, and sewn together to provide a full backing to the irregular shape of the face of the artwork. The piecing stitches of the top also quilt the two layers of fabric together. The work is entirely hand-stitched primarily using overcast stitching. The artwork is 119 inches high by 99.5 inches wide and 14 inches deep (3035 × 2527 × 279 mm) when hanging. The blankets themselves are composed of felted wool and synthetic materials. Blankets were originally finished with machine-stitched satin bindings. On the reverse, the artist has made a sleeve for a hanging rod to be inserted. The artist’s signature ‘MW’ is embroidered in chain stitch on the bottom proper right.

Figure 3.7.2 Left, Reverse detail of Marie Watt’s Untitled (Dream Catcher). Wool blankets are stitched together. Colourful threads are visible from the application of diamond-shaped pieces of wool blankets stitched from the front in a concentric circle design. Right, Detail of pink acetate and other satin bindings. Cut from original blankets, the bindings are stitched to the top edge at both ends and fall as large, intertwined loops down the obverse of the work. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Morris K. Jesup Fund, 2021 (2021.46). Images © The Metropolitan Museum of Art/artwork © Marie Watt.

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Acquisition New acquisitions of textiles to The Met follow collections care protocols that were established by the museum’s Registrar’s Office with the Department of Textile Conservation and are overseen by the Deputy Director for Collections and Administration. Incoming textiles are first examined in an isolated space, and when possible, textiles are proactively treated with low-temperature treatment to avoid the introduction of pests. As Dream Catcher was examined, conservators observed significant details that provided valuable information about the work. The use of different coloured threads and stitching techniques made it clear that the patchwork design was constructed by many hands. Some of the textiles used in Dream Catcher are in fragile condition with small holes, visible abrasion, splits, stains, and evidence of past pest activity. Some of the satin bindings are very deteriorated and partially detached (Figure 3.7.2, right). Deteriorating fibres (in this case acetate)6 is a condition issue which conservators have many methods to address. Partially detached areas will often be stabilized or consolidated to prevent further loss with methods such as laid couching stitches and/or a subtle overlay in a sheer fabric. Conservation guidelines, techniques, and specialized knowledge aid our analysis of materials and ultimately, how we care for textiles. Conservators are familiar with the complex questions and considered decisions that can arise when removing a stain, humidifying a crease that could hold valuable information, or deciding to leave a past repair for its historical value, even when it is visibly distracting (Brooks & Eastop, 2006). Conservators have a responsibility to recognize what holds historical, spiritual, religious, and cultural significance as well as artistic intent. Dream Catcher had arrived with clear instructions from the artist on how it was to be installed and displayed, but the only information about the materials was a brief description: ‘Reclaimed wool blankets, satin binding, thread’. As Marie Watt is a living artist, conservators had the opportunity to consult with her along with the curators Sylvia Yount and Patricia Marroquin Norby. Through emails and then a virtual meeting, conservators gained insight into Watt’s relationship to the materials and her intentions for long-term preservation.

Discussion with Marie Watt Conservators can spend a great amount of time weighing different options and testing treatment possibilities before determining what will work best. It was refreshing that in our discussion with Watt, we received a clear verdict from her to only intervene when the structural integrity of the cohesive work needed to be secured. She ‘considers bindings to be ledger-like and the worn bits are part of this story’. For her, the deteriorated bindings are ‘considered to be beauty marks’,7 part of the artwork, and should not be conserved in the traditional ways we may conserve textiles. Watt specified that she sees the storytelling that occurs between participants in the sewing circle ­construction of Dream Catcher reflected in the materials themselves. To address open seams, we suggested that we would reinforce them with discreet stitches, integrated into the original. Watt’s response was aligned with her artistic intention, clear that as conservators working on the stabilization, we should see ourselves as a continuation of the community sewing circle that constructed the artwork.8 Her encouragement highlighted the reality that any time we stitch as conservators, we are adding to the story of the textile. Our code of ethics guides us to ensure that our work is reversible (AIC, 1994), but even these types of treatments are chronicled in the material. 226

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The conversation expanded beyond Dream Catcher to other textile materials, techniques, and the ways we as conservators have examined, documented, and learned from past repairs. We shared information about our hanging methods for tapestries, carpets, and textiles, particularly using Velcro® to secure the textile close to the wall and manage rippling on the bottom. Watt shared with us that she wanted to present this work further away from the wall, utilizing a customdesigned system that accentuates movement. To install Dream Catcher, four aluminium rods are joined together with three small pieces of silicone tubing to create a long flexible pole. It is then inserted into the sleeve on the reverse of the artwork with pre-drilled holes lined up with the access points in the sleeve. Four brackets are secured to the wall using a template. The artwork is then lifted to the wall where pins in the brackets secure the rod in place. Additionally, Watt shared that she is on the board of Voices in Contemporary Art (VoCA), a non-profit organization with a mission to ‘generate critical dialogue and interdisciplinary programming to address the production, presentation, and preservation of contemporary art’ (VoCA, 2023). This includes hosting Artist Interview Workshops to equip arts professionals to effectively conduct artists’ interviews. Watt’s experience with this format brought clarity to the preservation of Dream Catcher’s fragile bindings. Watt asked that we allow the deteriorating satin to continue its natural degradation without intervention. Should textile fragments separate from the original artwork, they were to be collected, but not reattached. Written notes were taken of the meeting to be included in the conservation object file, available to future conservators in Textile Conservation.

Figure 3.7.3 Marie Watt, Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014 on exhibition in Art of Native America, May 2021–June 2022. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Morris K. Jesup Fund, 2021 (2021.46). Images © The Metropolitan Museum of Art/artwork © Marie Watt.

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Treatment and installation Informed by these illuminating discussions, the work was prepared for display. Each seam of the pieced front was examined for stability and, when needed, secured with new stitches in cotton thread. The wool sleeve that the artist had created to support a rod for hanging was reinforced in areas where the stitches had become loose. The large textile was test hung from a hoist in the laboratory to ensure that it was stable for display for the year-long rotation. Because of the location of the installation and the large amount of wool material, an acrylic vitrine was created to serve as a barrier from pests as well as to protect the work from visitors who may be tempted to touch it (Figure 3.7.3). Working with exhibition designers, the depth of the case was planned to allow free space for the artwork as the artist intended.

Outreach Since our discussion with Watt was so valuable, we invited her to participate in a public dialogue as part of the Department of Textile Conservation’s annual symposium.9 Through a virtual platform, Watt spoke about her work with a particular focus on the technical construction of Dream Catcher. She expressed her concern when she first heard from her gallery that textile conservators at The Met had questions about some aspects of the artwork. When she received images of some of the areas we had described as ‘deteriorated’, she felt strongly their worn condition was an essential part of the story of these materials and was something that drew her to working with blankets in the first place. She described these bindings as ‘ledger-like’, by which she meant ‘the sense that they are imprinted upon with physical and metaphysical matter of dreaming and waking life’. Images and descriptions directly from the artist answered even more of our questions on the work and how it was assembled. Watt explained that the design for Dream Catcher was first drawn on fusible interfacing on her studio wall. It was then cut into sections (in the case of this work, diamond shapes), which were ironed onto the wool and then cut out. The interfacing was then removed to achieve a more desirable drape of the wool blanket. The design was then basted or pinned in place. Watt explained that this made the objects more portable and easier to stitch in the community. She prepared slides with images that showed Dream Catcher and other works in process in her home studio, with a group of stitchers gathered around, probably sharing stories. Watt explained that the shape of Dream Catcher extends beyond a regular square and that this reflects the irregular shape of used blankets, stating that they ‘take on the shape of one’s body’. Additionally, she shared later: I was drawn to blankets as a material because of how I used them in my family. Similar to other tribes, especially those in the Pacific Northwest, we give blankets away to honor people from for being witnesses to important life events and it’s as meaningful to give a blanket away as much as it is to receive one. I like that blankets are coded objects, and carriers of meaning and story. I was drawn to the culture specifically that I associate with these objects but also their story and meanings across cultures and languages. Marie sourced blankets guided by a specific criterion: if she found a wool blanket for under five dollars, she would buy it, not making any aesthetic judgements. As her artworks have begun to enter institutions, she has had to explain her intentions that honour the history that is reflected in the blanket, including in its weakest and most fragile areas. These are the same areas that a conservator 228

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would often feel a strong need to address through treatment. She candidly spoke about her deep admiration of the conservator’s role to preserve artwork for future generations, but also confessed to a ‘funny tension’ with conservators, sharing specific examples where actions had been taken at institutions that were misaligned with her intentions. Watt discussed her hanging system and her decisions to present the work with an organic quality. She had installed earlier textile work flat to the wall using a Velcro® hanging system but evolved her methods to better highlight the nature of the object. While many differences in opinions were discussed, similarities between the practice of Watt’s sewing circles and the work of textile conservators were also apparent. Conservator Cristina Balloffet Carr highlighted the intergenerational makeup of the field and how the synthesis of individuals with varied experience advances the practice. Watt’s process has evolved to include embroidery and text. She sees a stitch as ‘an extension of one’s body and the cadence of one’s voice’ and does not remove any stitches once placed. If an area on an artwork needs additional reinforcement, she will do this in addition to the original stitches. This respect for earlier stitchers rings true to conservation practice, where the preservation of original material is a priority.

Storage and long-term maintenance of information This conversation was invaluable, providing perspective and insight on materials and care, but there was still much to be decided within the museum now that the work is part of the permanent collection. The conservators had to decide how to store it and how to record information for the next generation of conservators in a way that will ensure the requests of the artist are honoured. For storage, conservators adapted museum standards for large textiles to accommodate the complex layered structure of Marie Watt’s Dream Catcher. If their condition permits, most large

Figure 3.7.4  Untitled (Dream Catcher) during preparation for storage. Satin bindings were sandwiched between two layers of thin Pellon® and rolled gently on a Tyvek® tube. The second layer was then rolled face-out on a large blueboard tube. Image by Alexandra Barlow.

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flat textiles, such as tapestries, carpets, and quilts, are stored rolled in the Antonio Ratti Textile Center. Smaller textiles and those that are especially fragile are stored in flat drawers.10 Storing Dream Catcher in a drawer was not possible due to its size, which would require it to be folded in multiple directions, possibly causing deep creases that could distort the artwork over time. Textiles in rolled storage are stored on an archival tube with an outer wrap of Tyvek®. After photography of the artwork was completed by The Met’s Imaging department, Textile Conservation discussed storage possibilities with colleagues in the Ratti Center. A miniature maquette was made to help facilitate the development of a storage system.11 In this way conservators and collections managers were able to devise a plan to roll Dream Catcher using two rolls, one for the bindings and one for the pieced backing (Figure 3.7.4). Bindings were rolled in soft Pellon® face-in on a flexible small tube made of Tyvek®. The second layer was then rolled face-out on a large blueboard tube. The two rolls meet at the top and were secured with twill ties. The entire bundle was wrapped in cotton duck, followed by an outer wrap of Tyvek®, secured at the sides. The large tube was stabilized by end caps, preventing the work from shifting. The rolling was filmed and photographed to create a guide for future collections managers and conservators when the time comes to unroll the work. Records of the conservation treatment, storage method, and dialogue with the artist are kept in both the digital and physical object files.

Working with living artists and community members The connection with Marie Watt is significant, but it is not rare for conservators at The Met to collaborate with contemporary artists and community members. Many examples exist in all conservation departments at the museum. The recent conservation of a Yup’ik mask (#2017.718.3) in consultation with Yup’ik dancer Chuna McIntyre provides one such example. Information provided by McIntyre addressed the inappropriate past treatment and aided in returning the mask to its intended construction.12 A mixed-media artwork, Siah Armajani’s Shirt #1 (#2012.109) is made of the inside of the artist’s father’s suit jacket adhered to a plywood backing with layers of paint, pigments, and ink, including inscriptions of poetry and talismanic texts in Arabic.13 Curators worked with the artist to record the meaning and context of the work, and then conservators established protocols and a hanging system that recognized the combination of historic and modern materials with the artist’s intent. There is clear benefit to prioritizing these collaborations for the future and value in conservators continuing to share methods, process, and insight gained from these consultations.

Conclusion In the acquisition and display of Marie Watt’s Untitled (Dream Catcher), 2014, the Department of Textile Conservation, in collaboration with the artist, developed a protocol that incorporates the natural degradation of pre-existing materials as part of the communal and artistic concept of the work. Discussions with Watt in relation to the long-term preservation of Dream Catcher provided thought-provoking answers for us as textile conservators. It was intriguing to realize that she looks at the condition of textile materials in much the same way that we do as conservators, as representative of time and past use. Where conservators and the artist can differ is in their reactions. As conservators, we are often inclined to preserve fragile material in ways that slow down or contain degradation. For Watt, it was made clear that areas weak from past use should be unimpeded, leaving them to express the continuing lived experience of individual blankets. 230

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In our dialogue with the artist, even when our goals were seemingly at odds, we were able to balance our commitments to preserving materials and preserving meaning. We were able to respect the artist’s vision for close viewer access but did display the work within an acrylic vitrine. We did not attempt to preserve any deteriorating areas on the satin bindings, but we did reinforce weak seams to prevent them from opening further while hanging. We adapted our rolled storage system to accommodate Watt’s layered work. Finally, we ensured that the dialogue around this work was recorded in multiple forms for future generations of conservators and scholars to access at The Met.

Acknowledgements Thank you to Marie Watt for her openness to dialogue that is the motivation for this case study. Additional thanks to Janina Poskrobko and Cristina Balloffet Carr for their collaboration on this entire project; Patricia Marroquin Norby and Sylvia Yount for acquiring Watt’s work as well as their participation, perspective, and support; Christine Giuntini for her guidance and collaboration on textile conservation of Native American textiles as well as her valuable consultation on this paper. The entire Department of Textile Conservation, especially Kristine Kamiya; The Ratti Textile Center, especially Amelia Peck, Eva Labson, and Heidi Hilker; and The American Wing departmental technicians, Sean Farrell, Dennis Kaiser, Chad Lemke, and Arthur Polendo, who were all integral in the acquisition, preparation, installation, and storage of Untitled (Dream Catcher). Thank you to The Metropolitan Museum of Art for their permission to publish this case study.

References AIC (1994). Code of ethics. Available from: https://www.culturalheritage.org/about-conservation/code-ofethics Brooks, M. & Eastop, D. (2006). Matter out of place: paradigms for analyzing textile cleaning. JAIC, 45, 171–181. Murphy, J.P., Cartwright, D.R., Rickard, J., Schnitzer, J.D. & University of San Diego (2022). Storywork: the prints of Marie Watt from the collections of Jordan D. Schnitzer and his family foundation. San Diego: Jordan Schnitzer Family Foundation. VoCA (Voices in Contemporary Art) (2023). Mission. Available from: https://voca.network/mission/

Notes * Published in 2024 1 For more on Watt’s work in print and textiles, see Murphy et al. (2022). 2 Prior to this change, conservation of Native American textiles at The Met was the responsibility of Christine Giuntini, conservator for the Department of AAOA (renamed recently as The Michael C. Rockefeller Wing). Giuntini continues to collaborate with Textile Conservation on mounts and other projects. (See her case study in Chapter 2.) 3 The Seneca Nation of Indians, of which Marie Watt is a member, are contemporary members of the ­Seneca, the largest of the six nations which made up the Iroquois Confederacy in what is now New York State, USA, and southern Ontario, Canada. Seneca Nation of Indians website (2022). Available at: https:// sni.org/ 4 Marie Watt Studio, email to Alexandra Barlow, 5 January 2023. 5 Marie Watt Studio, email to Alexandra Barlow, 5 January 2023. 6 Fibre identification of satin bindings by A. Barlow, August 2022. 7 M. Watt, email to Textile Conservation, 18 February 2021.

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Alexandra Barlow 8 M. Watt, virtual meeting, 10 March, 2021. https://www.culturalheritage.org/about-conservation/codeof-ethics. 9 Annual Textile Conservation Colloquium Day 2 (2021), 25 June. Presentations were made by Sylvia Yount (Lawrence A. Fleischman Curator in Charge, The American Wing) Textile Conservation, and Marie Watt. Following formal presentations, a dialogue with Alexandra Barlow, Cristina Balloffet Carr, and Marie Watt was then followed by a Q&A. Available from: https://www.metmuseum.org/perspectives/ videos/2021/6/annual-textile-conservation-colloquium-day-2. 10 Antonio Ratti Textile Center and Reference Library, https://www.metmuseum.org/art/libraries-andresearch-centers/antonio-ratti-textile-center-and-reference-library. 11 Heidi Hilker, Associate Collections Specialist, Antonio Ratti Textile Center, created a miniature maquette out of storage material scraps. 12 https://www.metmuseum.org/perspectives/videos/2019/4/yupik-mask-conservation 13 Unpublished conservation report prepared by Janina Poskrobko and J.-F. de Laperouse (2012).

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CHAPTER 4

Interventive conservation

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OVERVIEW While interventive conservation has only been allocated one chapter in this book, it is at the core of many textile conservators’ working lives and is fundamental to our work. The preceding chapters aim to discuss the different factors which influence the way that treatment decisions are made – this chapter directly addresses the more concrete features of interventive practice. The textile conservator engages with a huge variety of materials and techniques on a daily basis; in the twenty-first century this encompasses many more objects containing modern materials. At the same time, textiles are vulnerable to damage from the full range of agents of deterioration. This diversity demands wide knowledge and understanding and makes the textile conservator’s job particularly challenging and rewarding. In the past 30 years technical developments have given textile conservators a much larger repertoire of treatments; in the past decade these have expanded even further. This evolution in methodology is based on a greater understanding of the effects of treatments on textiles. This overview looks particularly at developments in treatment since the first edition of the book was published in 2010. It focuses on ‘western’ conservation treatments, though the growing consideration of traditional, local techniques is mentioned elsewhere, particularly in the Chapter 7 overview.

Documentation There is little written on the subject of documentation in comparison with other areas of textile conservation, but this belies its importance, particularly for the future care of objects. Documentation is the first step in any conservation treatment, imposing a structure on the process of examination and recording, which aids observation and gives a better understanding of an object and its condition. Reports are prepared for many different purposes and for different institutions; each has its own style. McLean, Schmalz and Yui’s case study describes the preparation of condition reports, recommending effective techniques so that they are easy to read and to follow and have all the information the recipient needs. They advocate the use of annotated images as quicker and more effective than lengthy passages of text. Major developments in computer technology, particularly imaging, are of great value in conservation. The case study by Rode, Pardo and Clindaniel illustrates how the very close examination and documentation of an archaeological Andean khipu has contributed enormously to its cultural value. Siegmund et al. (2019) describe a similar project where the digital reconstruction of a Māori piupiu was made possible by detailed documentation. In these cases documentation became a form of treatment.

Cleaning and humidification Surface cleaning remains fundamental, alone or as a precursor to further cleaning (­Figure 4.0.1); it also affords an opportunity to examine a textile closely and thoroughly. 235

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Figure 4.0.1 Vacuuming Modern Tapestry designed by Roy Lichtenstein, 1968, 108 × 148 in., in the collection of the Bechtler Museum of Modern Art. © Bechtler Museum of Modern Art, Charlotte, NC, USA. Photo by conservator. Art © Estate of Roy Lichtenstein.

It  used to be commonplace, even routine, to wet clean textiles to remove soiling, relax creasing and bring the pH of a textile closer to neutral. Today fewer textiles are wet cleaned; we now make a positive decision to wet clean, having weighed up the technical possibilities (Windsor, 1996) and the possibility of removing evidence of previous use (Eastop & Brooks, 1996). In recent years a much wider range of cleaning agents and techniques has been trialled and adopted, particularly with new approaches for localized cleaning. Today there is a more sophisticated use of surfactants with the choice now more likely to be made on the basis of fibre type and the type of soiling. Following on from pioneering research into a range of surfactants (Fields et al., 2004), there has been further investigation of a now commonly used non-ionic surfactant, Dehypon® LS54 (Sato & Quye, 2019). Mina described the use of a range of chelators, enzymes and surfactants to remove foxing stains from linen (Mina, 2020), while the use of gels has been the subject of much interest and research (Shaeffer & Gardiner, 2013; Carlson, 2017). The use of ultrasound in wet cleaning has also been successfully pioneered (Creamer, 2019). Specially designed equipment is now almost invariably used to wet clean tapestries and some other large textiles; the case study by Orlofsky et al. explains the factors influencing the cleaning of a sampler on a vacuum suction table.

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Tinker’s case study employs a recently adopted technique, the use of microfibre cloth, to clean wool velvet wall coverings (Hartog & Porter, 2017). The case study by Grice-­Venour describes the challenges of cleaning, and then supporting, a nineteenth-century chenille carpet. There have been few recent publications on solvent cleaning historic textiles, probably because this treatment is now less commonly carried out due to practical factors of cost, health and safety requirements, and environmental impact. The Sustainability in Conservation group set up a Greener Solvents Project to gather information on the effects of solvents and to look for more sustainable alternatives (Fife, 2021). There has been little recent research into humidification, although the use of semi-permeable membranes to introduce water vapour to a textile in a controlled manner is now a common treatment. A notable exception is the paper by Macken and Smith (2019).

Stitched support Publications inevitably report on what are perceived as unusual treatments, so there are many more publications on adhesive treatments, where the technology has developed rapidly, than on stitching treatments, where techniques reflect a greater continuity (Figure 4.0.2). However, Gill’s case study demonstrates the subtlety of stitched support treatments on a set of

Figure 4.0.2 Danielle Connolly treating a silk tartan jacket, believed to have been worn as part of a medieval dress costume in c.1840–1850, for the Wild and Majestic exhibition at ­National Museums Scotland. © National Museums Scotland.

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eighteenth-century upholstered chairs. Tapestry conservation is one exception where research into stitching techniques is more common, probably because of the wide range of techniques in use (Asai et al., 2008; Lennard et al., 2023). Stitching treatments have tended to become more minimal over time, often due to time and resource constraints, but also in response to more thoughtful treatments which question how much stitching is really necessary. However, it is recognized that it is sometimes necessary to go further. Obie Linn (2020) explained how a very interventive approach taken when treating a set of dolls for display resulted in the best possible outcome for the dolls’ appearance and function.

Adhesive treatments Adhesive treatments have become a routine part of the textile conservation repertoire following a now long history of use; they demonstrate sophisticated selection, preparation and application skills. Hillyer’s case study demonstrates how adhesive treatments evolved over a 20-year period at the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A). This topic was expanded in Hackett and Hillyer’s report on 60 years of adhesive use at the V&A (2019), and the case study by Osmond and Smith brings adhesive use at the museum up to date. In the same period, Meijer reviewed 50 years’ use of synthetic adhesives in the Rijksmuseum (2014). A wide range of adhesives is now in use. Pullan reported on the use of wheat starch, Klucel™ G (hydroxypropyl cellulose) and Lascaux (acrylic) adhesives with Japanese paper patches for the treatment of Pacific barkcloth at the ­British Museum (2020). In 2015 Down reported on a long and rigorous programme of evaluating adhesives. The evaluation of past treatments is sadly rare – a result of the lack of time and opportunity in most workplaces – but some valuable examples have been published in recent years. In 2017 Meijer and Koek reflected on two stages of the adhesive treatment of an 1860s silk dress. Similarly, Peterson-Grace (2019) evaluated treatments for shattered silk as she treated the lining of a Schiaparelli evening coat which had been supported 14 years previously but had continued to degrade.

Reintegration techniques Visual reintegration is a key area of decision-making for textile conservators; an understanding of the role of the object is fundamental to deciding whether it is desirable to visually infill missing areas. Though practice varies in other types of textiles, the restoration of the image has traditionally been thought important in areas such as tapestry or carpet conservation where the value of the object resides primarily in its image or pattern. Cimò and Cirrincione’s case study details the use of an integrative stitching technique for tapestry at the Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro in Florence. Using a different methodology, the case study by Hey, Shewry and Grimshaw describes the treatment of a flat weave Aubusson rug, where its continued function dictated both pictorial definition and stabilization. A variety of techniques has been used to camouflage support fabrics where they are visible in areas of loss in patterned or textured textiles (Fairhurst, 2010).

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These range from painting or printing the support fabric (Vuori & Britton, 2008) to the use of patches imitating the structure of non-woven textiles such as knitting (Cogram & Haldane, 2007). The development of digital technology has expanded the range of visual infill techniques. High-quality digital images have been used to recreate replica textiles for temporary display, where tapestries, for example, have been removed for conservation treatment. They have also been used in treatments; a large missing area in a seventeenth-century Mortlake tapestry was infilled with a digitally printed patch, derived from a tapestry woven to the same design (Arnott & Wilson, 2010). A digitally printed reproduction sleeve was used in the treatment of an eighteenth-century painted silk dress (Murphy et al., 2016). Westerman Bulgarella’s case study describes how a set of banners used to create a tented ceiling was permanently replaced by new digitally printed replicas.

Mounting Creating an effective mount is as important as supporting a textile to ensure it is displayed, or stored, safely. Lister (1997) explained how a good mount can mean that less direct intervention on an object is necessary, while it can also aid interpretation. Creating a good understructure for costumes that are to be displayed is vital to avoid damage caused either by strain or by insufficient support while simultaneously recreating the correct period shape of historic dress: Flecker’s invaluable publication, A Practical Guide to Costume Mounting, has become an essential guide (2007). There has been significant development in the production of mannequins for museum display in recent years, as the case studies by McLeod and Ripley; and Flecker, Hackett and Haldane in Chapter 1 demonstrate. The innovative development of cut-away transparent acrylic mannequins at the Bowes Museum (Gresswell et al., 2016) has been influential in museum display. Scaturro and Fung reported on three examples of mounting at the Costume Institute, illustrating ‘diverse approaches taken toward the conservation and display of historical, twentieth-century, and contemporary clothing’ (2016: 159). New materials and technologies have also been incorporated into treatments. Schoonmaker and Zoldowski (2017) explored the use of Fosshape®, a non-woven polyester which can be heat-set into three-dimensional shapes, in upholstery conservation treatments. At the Costume Institute, 3D scanning was exploited to create custom storage forms for 28 Charles James ballgowns (Scaturro & Healy, 2017). The use of magnets has become widespread, both in the mounting of textiles and to stabilize components during treatment (Spicer, 2019).

Health and safety requirements There is now a greater awareness of the risks associated with working on historic textiles. Regulations have become more stringent over the past 30 years and have given us protocols for using solvents and other chemicals safely. Conservators are now more aware of the potential risks posed by textiles themselves, sometimes where a dangerous component has been used as part of the manufacturing process, as the case study by Coppinger in Chapter 6 demonstrates. Textile conservators have also been urged to consider their health and safety

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in terms of the physical strains that can arise from textile conservation work. Langford et al. (2013) detail control measures and practices put into place at Historic Royal Palaces to mitigate these.

Conclusion Typically, only novel treatments are published, meaning that in recent years there have been many more publications on the use of new cleaning techniques than on stitching – though tapestries are the exception. In the last two decades textile conservation treatments have not fundamentally changed, but the range and sophistication of techniques and the availability of materials have increased enormously, along with our understanding of how treatments work. This greatly increased range of possibilities has made the selection of appropriate treatments even more important; the textile conservator’s judgement and decision-making skills are fundamental. There has been some useful evaluation of previous treatments which has informed current practice, but research funding to allow more systematic surveys of previous treatments would be welcomed.

References Arnott, H. & Wilson, N. (2010). To Hellespont and back – use of a photographic infill. In A. Fairhurst (Ed.), Mind the gap! Structural and aesthetic options for the treatment of loss in textiles. Postprints, UKIC TS 2009 Forum (pp. 49–57). London: Icon. Asai, K., Biggs, E., Ewer, P. & Hallett, K. (2008). Tapestry conservation traditions: an analysis of support techniques for large hanging textiles. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2008, New Delhi (pp. 967–975). New Delhi: Allied. Carlson, J. (2017). A sticky situation: a different method for removing adhesive from an early 17th-century carpet. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2017, Copenhagen. Paris: ICOM. Cogram, A. & Haldane, E.A. (2007). Stretching Surreal Things: the conservation of knitted costume. In R. Bissonnet & E.A. Haldane (Eds), Dress in detail: display, storage and conservation considerations. Postprints, Icon TG 2007 Forum (pp. 7–20). London: Icon. Creamer, M.M. (2019). Beyond cavitation: investigating ultrasound in immersion cleaning environments. In A. Castaneda, N. Frankel, J. Urick, A, Barlow, G. Majors, L. Posada & M. Wilcox-Levine (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2019, Uncasville, CT (pp. 143–158). Washington DC: AIC. Down, J.L. (2015). The evaluation of selected poly(vinyl acetate) and acrylic adhesives: a final research update. Studies in Conservation, 60(1), 33–54. Eastop, D. & Brooks, M.M. (1996). To clean or not to clean: the value of soils and creases. In J.  Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 1996, Edinburgh (pp. 687–691). London: James & James. Fairhurst, A. (Ed.) (2010). Mind the gap! Structural and aesthetic options for the treatment of loss in textiles. Postprints, UKIC TS 2009 Forum. London: Icon. Fields, J.A., Wingham, A., Hartog, F. & Daniels, V. (2004). Finding substitute surfactants for Synperonic N. JAIC, 43(1), 55–73. Fife, G.R. (2021). Greener solvents in conservation. An introductory guide. London: Archetype in association with Sustainability in Conservation. Available from: https://www.siconserve.org/ greener-solvents/greener-solvents-hand-book Flecker, L. (2007). A practical guide to costume mounting. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Gresswell, C., Hashagen, J. & Wood, J. (2016). Collaborative approaches in developing the Bowes Museum’s fashion and textile gallery. In M.M. Brooks & D.D. Eastop (Eds), Refashioning and redress. Conserving and displaying dress (pp. 145–158). Los Angeles: Getty Publications.

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Hackett, J. & Hillyer, L. (2019). Adhesives in textile conservation: a survey of 60 years of adhesive use at the V&A. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned. Textile conservation – then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau (pp. 200–218). NATCC. Hartog, F. & Porter, H. (2017). The powers of microfibre cloth. In S. Glenn & K. Smith (Eds), Postprints, Icon TG forum, 2017 (pp. 41–48). London: Icon. Langford, M., Beaumont, M.S. & Annett, D. (2013). Ergonomics, risk management and injury prevention in textiles conservation. Icon Journal, 36(1), 81–101. Lennard, F., Costantini, R. & Harrison, P. (2023). Investigating stitched support techniques for tapestry using digital image correlation. Studies in Conservation, 68(5), 558–574. Lister, A. (1997). Making the most of mounts: expanding the role of display mounts in the preservation and interpretation of historic textiles. In (n.e.), Symposium 97 – Fabric of an exhibition: an interdisciplinary approach. Preprints, NATCC, 1997, Ottawa (pp. 143–148). Ottawa: CCI. Macken, A. & Smith, M.J. (2019). Solvent vapour use – the unintended consequences in textile conservation. Studies in Conservation, 64(6), 352–362. Meijer, S. (2014). Bonding issues? Adhesive treatments past and present in the Rijksmuseum. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2014, Melbourne. Paris: ICOM. Meijer, S. & Koek, M. (2017). Learning from a treatment that did not go as planned: the use of an adhesive support technique on an 1860s dress. In E. Shaeffer, J. Carlson, K. Eng-Wilmot, A. Getts, K. Kiefer & B. Morris (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2017, Chicago (pp. 111–124). Chicago: AIC. Mina, L. (2020). Foxy underpants: or the use of chelators and enzymes to reduce foxing stains on early nineteenth century men’s linen underpants. JAIC, 59(1), 3–17. Murphy, M, Barlow, A. & Breitung, E. (2016). The creation of a digitally printed reproduction sleeve for an eighteenth-century painted silk dress. In E. Shaeffer, A, Getts, K. Kiefer & B. Morris (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2016, Montreal (pp. 35–48). Washington DC: AIC. Obie Linn, C. (2020). Highly interventive: three tales of treatment from the deep end of the workbench. In A. Castaneda, N. Frankel, J. Urick, A, Barlow, L. Posada & M. Wilcox-Levine (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2020, virtual (pp. 27–38). Washington DC: AIC. Peterson-Grace, J. (2019). Third time’s the charm? Revisiting Schiaparelli’s shattered silks. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned. Textile conservation – then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau Canada (pp. 101–118). NATCC. Pullan, M. (2020). Shown to full advantage: conservation and mounting of barkcloth for display in the Shifting Patterns: Pacific Barkcloth Clothing exhibition at the British Museum. In F. Lennard & A. Mills (Eds), Material approaches to Polynesian barkcloth: cloth, collections, communities (pp. 279–289). Leiden: Sidestone Press. Sato, M. & Quye, A. (2019). Detergency evaluation of non-ionic surfactant DehyponR LS54 for textile conservation wet cleaning. Icon Journal, 42(1), 3–17. Scaturro, S. & Fung, J. (2016). Ethics and aesthetics at the Costume Institute, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. In M.M. Brooks & D.D. Eastop (Eds), Refashioning and redress. Conserving and displaying dress (pp. 159–172). Los Angeles: Getty Publications. Scaturro, S. & Healy, T. (2017). Three-dimensional scanning to create custom storage forms for the Charles James collection in the Costume Institute, Metropolitan Museum of Art. In E. Shaeffer, J. Carlson, K. Eng-Wilmot, A. Getts, K. Kiefer & B. Morris (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2017, Chicago (pp. 191–206). Washington DC: AIC. Schoonmaker, K. & Zoldowski, A. (2017). Making the mold: exploring the use of Fosshape in upholstery conservation. In E. Shaeffer, J. Carlson, K. Eng-Wilmot, A. Getts, K. Kiefer & B. Morris (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2017, Chicago (pp. 65–82). Washington DC: AIC. Shaeffer, E. & Gardiner, J. (2013). New and current materials and approaches for localized cleaning in textile conservation. In A. Holden, R. Summerour, E. Schuetz, J. Carlson & G. Petersen (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2013, Indianapolis IN (pp. 109–124). Washington DC: AIC. Siegmund, C., Mitschke, S. & Te Kanawa, R. (2019). Māori weaving: the digital reconstruction of a piupiu at the Reiss-Engelhorn Museums in Mannheim Germany. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned. Textile conservation – then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau (pp. 80–99). NATCC.

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Spicer, G. (2019). Magnetic mounting systems for museums and cultural institutions. Delmar NY: Spicer Art Books. Vuori, J. & Britton, N. (2008). A preliminary investigation of digital inkjet printing on sheer fabrics for textile conservation. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2008, New Delhi (pp. ­1002–1011). New Delhi: Allied Publishers. Windsor, D. (1996). To clean or not to clean? Decision making for textile wet cleaning. In P. Ewer & B. McLaughlin (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG, 1995, St. Paul MN (pp. 39–50). Washington DC: AIC.

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4.1 THE PREPARATION OF CONDITION REPORTS FOR COSTUME AND TEXTILES AT THE LOS ANGELES COUNTY MUSEUM OF ART* Catherine C. McLean, Susan R. Schmalz, Kaoru Yui Introduction Preparing written reports that describe the physical condition of a costume or textile is a basic component of textile conservation and collection management work (AIC, 1994; ­Appelbaum, 2007: 384–417; AIC TSG, 2020). Condition reports are written not only as precursors to conservation treatments but for a variety of museum activities: permanent collection installations and rotations, incoming and outgoing loans, government-indemnified exhibitions, travelling exhibitions generated at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA) and travelling exhibitions generated elsewhere. Costume and textiles go through an acquisition process and, in rare instances, a deaccessioning process. All of these activities require condition reports. Previously at LACMA, condition reporting for non-conservation treatment activities fell to the registrar. Theoretically, this made sense, but the duties of the registrars have grown tremendously, and, because of our expertise, much of the reporting responsibility moved to the conservators. With exhibitions, for example, a large number of artefacts arrive at the museum with only a few days or weeks set aside for receiving, unpacking, condition reporting and installation. Invariably, conservators are called in to assist registrars. Today, conservators share the registrar’s predicament of being overwhelmed, thus requiring processes for creating streamlined and highly effective condition reports (Figure 4.1.1; Nodding et al., 2008).  This case study will examine the process of condition reporting costume and textiles at LACMA, including the reasons behind each step. The premise is that one must begin with learning to prepare a detailed written condition report. Once this is mastered, the next step is streamlining the process.

Why condition report? Over the past few decades, the need for condition reports has expanded tremendously. As LACMA’s programmes grow, textile conservators are often prevailed upon to assist with condition

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Figure 4.1.1 Working in an off-site location, an electronic condition report is created for a tapestry (LACMA #57.57). Image © Museum Associates/LACMA, by Catherine McLean.

reporting for a variety of activities including acquisition, permanent collection installation, incoming long-term loan, special exhibition, outgoing loan and deaccession. These intradepartmental activities necessitate the use of a collections management database so information can be easily shared and stored. During the acquisition process, costumes and textiles are often examined by a textile conservator, particularly if they have active infestation or damage, unstable materials or high value (Breeze, 2015). As curators prepare checklists for permanent collection exhibitions and gallery rotations, textile conservators will review past records, make preliminary condition assessments and estimate time for treatments before prioritizing work for a particular exhibition or installation. From time to time, curators request long-term loans to come to LACMA to be installed alongside our permanent collection. Depending on the loan agreement, value, medium, size, etc., a conservator may be required to prepare a condition report. In contrast to permanent collection exhibitions, museum exhibitions composed wholly or in part of borrowed costumes and textiles are more complex, requiring more thorough condition reports. Special exhibitions may have loan agreements that require a conservator to condition report as artefacts arrive and depart from each venue. Condition reports are required when costumes or textiles are lent to other institutions. We have observed that condition reports for artefacts on loan are surprisingly brief when, arguably, the risk of damage is at its greatest. Written condition notes,

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diagrams, annotated photographs and detailed digital photography can be critical elements in making these condition reports useful to those who receive them. As museum collections grow, it becomes necessary to review the content and consider deaccessioning items from a collection. Deaccessions need to meet several criteria established by LACMA’s collection management policy. The process is very thorough and often requires examination of an artefact’s condition, particularly if it is high value or stability is an issue. LACMA textile conservators began entering conservation condition and treatment information directly into a collection management database over two decades ago. Staff entered skeletal data for all textile treatments dating to the laboratory’s inception in 1967. These early treatments also have hard-copy files containing detailed conservation work. As time permits, these materials are scanned as PDFs or JPEGs and linked to the database. Currently, these hard-copy materials are kept and archived. With over 36,000 costumes and textiles in LACMA’s collection, information is recorded whenever possible, thereby creating annotated histories for this large collection. Report writing software can extract and assemble information from the database. For example, the Museum’s database is used to create a checklist for an exhibition. Then report writing software retrieves specific data, e.g., accession number, title, dimensions, estimated time to conserve and mount requirements, for each artefact on the list.

A question of style Although the styles used to generate condition reports vary, many are written in prose with complete sentences and multiple paragraphs. For others, the condition reports are brief, disorganized and filled with regional jargon. What is needed is a style that lies somewhere in between these two extremes: a style that is organized, complete, succinct, and easily read and understood. The level of detail in a condition report varies depending on the reason for the report. Generally, acquisitions and deaccessions receive brief condition reports. The level of detail increases with permanent collection exhibitions and gallery rotations. Photographs, annotated photographs and written documentation expand for outgoing loans, incoming longterm loans and special exhibitions. With time and staff limitations, one is always hopeful that textiles shipped to LACMA for loan or exhibition arrive with condition reports to which comments simply can be added.

Who will use the condition report? Most conservators take pride in creating a thorough condition report. They want to give the next custodian of an artwork a document that describes the artefact at that point in time. Consider another perspective. Who will be reading the report? Does the recipient share the same native language and terminology as the writer? Is the recipient a conservator? In what circumstances will the person be working? What kind of an impression will the report create? We have received numerous condition reports. Many reports were wonderful gifts; others were heavy burdens. Pages of lengthy, dense paragraphs can be time-consuming and exhausting to read. Other reports are so brief that they are of little use. Added to that is the constant movement of the eyes, switching from reading the report, whether a hard copy or electronic, to stopping to locate the area being described; it is easy to lose one’s place. Sometimes reports, particularly those prepared for large travelling exhibitions, are handwritten and difficult to read.

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Brief outgoing loan condition reports are common the world over, and we are by no means exempt. Here is an example: In fair condition. Overall surface dirt and ingrained soiling in some areas. Insect holes overall that do not affect the structural stability of the coat. The vulnerable areas have been conserved. Water damage on the top section of the coat and creases in the middle section due to use of a belt. In this instance, there is no photograph. The museum number does not suggest that there is more than one component. Does a belt exist? Of the many damages, only two, the water damage and creasing, have a described location. If the borrowing institution experiences an act of vandalism, an unexpected water leak, an insect infestation or damage in transit, how will this report prove what is old damage and what is new damage? How will this report assist the borrowing institution? It is indeed the responsibility of the borrowing institution to conduct a thorough examination when the artefact arrives. But if 100 artefacts arrive at a museum with condition reports similar to the above example, the borrower’s registrar or conservator may be unable to find time to conduct a thorough and documented examination for each artefact. Whether one has been a lender or borrower, responsibility for a good condition report begins with the lending institution. The better the outgoing condition report, the easier it is for the borrowing institution to properly care for the loan.

A revised technique and style for writing condition reports At LACMA, the textile conservation staff has developed and revised a new methodology for condition report writing. This is a work in progress; even as we prepare this case study, our daily activities demand more streamlined processes. Table 4.1.1  Standard terms used by LACMA for reporting the condition of textiles. Six terms that LACMA uses for costume and textiles: Excellent Very Good Good Fair

Poor Unexhibitable

Very stable condition, new or like new, no evidence of use or wear or in remarkably good condition for the age of the object. Usually very little or no conservation treatment is required. Stable condition, faint or slight evidence of use or wear or in good condition for its age. If treatment is indicated, it would usually be fairly simple although it may take a few hours. Usually in stable condition with evidence of use or wear. Often needs some degree of conservation treatment. Usually not in stable condition with clearly visible evidence of use or wear. The object may have suffered damage prior to acquisition. For something several decades old or older it may be an expected degree of natural deterioration. Requires treatment, usually extensive. Unstable condition with obvious evidence of use or wear or damage due to poor storage, display or natural deterioration. Requires extensive treatment. Very unstable condition with extreme evidence of use, wear, poor storage, display or natural deterioration. Objects in this condition would be very difficult, if not impossible, to stabilize in such a way that they could be exhibited safely.

Note: if a costume or textile seems to fall between two categories, it can be described with both terms, e.g., fair to good condition. Used in a similar manner, the LACMA database uses the following terms: excellent, very good, good, fair, poor, broken, fragile and stable.

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LACMA’s methodology has the following basic components: 1. The condition report must be thorough; 2. The report must be easy to read and follow; 3. The report should include the information that the recipient needs.

Begin with a general statement about condition Many conservators avoid using single words, such as ‘excellent’, ‘good’ or ‘poor’, to describe condition. At LACMA, we do begin with a single word to set the tone for the examination and to warn the examiner about how to handle the artefact. Naturally, some individuals skew their observations, either positively or negatively. To be useful, everyone in an institution, registrars and conservators alike, must use the terms in the same way (AICCM, 1998). Table 4.1.1 presents the definitions used by LACMA staff. Next, an observation of the physical stability and appearance is made. Although very subjective, it assists curators in the preliminary stages of planning an exhibition. At a glance, a curator would know if the object could withstand handling, mounting and display. Additionally, conservation condition reports focus on damages. To the non-conservator, these reports can look frightening and, therefore, misleading. For example, an artefact may have a long list of damages but at the same time be physically stable and visually pleasing. Effective communication requires balanced reporting.

The heart of the written condition report Condition reports are actively used. For example, damage is discovered while a costume is on exhibition. One rushes to the condition report, accompanying photographic documentation and diagrams searching to answer the question ‘Is this new damage?’ Years of experience have taught us the four characteristics that help the reader answer that question: 1. Systematic examination, area by area; 2. Bullet points, one for each observation; 3. Begin with the location followed by the damage description; 4. Phrases not sentences.

Systematic examination, area by area Systematically examining a costume or textile is one of the foundations of condition reporting. For textiles with multiple pieces, each piece is examined individually. If each piece has the same damages in common, include those in a general introductory section to avoid repetitive statements. LACMA has established a systematic order for examining costume and flat textiles (Figure 4.1.2). These examples can be modified according to the needs of different collections, as shown here. Costume – use this order for examination for each component: Overall – give general observations Exterior 247

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Front – work from top to bottom Back – work from top to bottom Interior Front and back – work from top to bottom Closures Accessories Flat textiles – use this order for examination: Overall – give general observations Front – work from top to bottom, break into quadrants as needed Back – work from top to bottom, break into quadrants as needed

The quadrant system and simplifications Often an examiner is tempted to begin by describing the worst damage and proceed to describe the next worst damage. This results in jumping all around one side of a textile or costume and can make the recipient of such a report confused or frustrated. A better approach is to divide the object into four sections: • • • •

upper proper right quadrant (UPR) upper proper left quadrant (UPL) lower proper right quadrant (LPR) lower proper left quadrant (LPL)

Using this method, the recipient can review the condition report in an orderly fashion. Note: the use of the words ‘right’ and ‘left’ can be ambiguous. Adding the word ‘proper’ denotes the location from the point of view of the wearer of a costume or an artefact on a wall. For artefacts in relatively good condition, the quadrant system can be too much. In such cases, one can reduce the sections to two: • upper half • lower half or • proper right side (PR) • proper left side (PL) These approaches can feel tedious, but all the hard work that goes into creating a condition report is rewarded when the information is retrieved quickly and easily.

Bullet points, one for each observation When a condition report is reviewed, the examiner will pause after each observation and look for it on the costume or textile. Their eyes move back and forth between the report and the artefact. To make this easier, use a bullet point to describe each condition note separately. Note: some databases do not accommodate bullet points, so a dash can be used instead. Compare these two descriptions: 248

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Figure 4.1.2 This eighteenth-century robe was examined in three steps: front (top), interior (centre) and back (bottom). For each step, the examination proceeded from the top of the gown to the bottom (LACMA # M.64.83.1a).  Image © Museum Associates/LACMA, by Catherine McLean.

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There are scattered spots overall with a 5mm long tear, 20mm down from the collar. • overall, scattered spots • 20mm down from collar, tear, 5mm long In the first description, one must memorize multiple damages and look for them on the artefact. One might not take the time to consider each damage fully. When separated into two bullet points, one first takes the time to think about spots and then moves on to examine a tear. Using bullet points allows you to clearly identify the different damaged areas and prioritize your areas of concern.

Begin with the location followed by the damage description When writing a condition report for a costume or textile, many conservators first describe the damage and then its location. When a person receives a condition report, they are more comfortable reading about the location first, followed by the description of the damage. Compare these examples: Damage + location • There is an 80mm long brown liquid stain on the PR side seam of the bodice. Location + damage • On the PR side seam of the bodice, there is an 80mm long, brown, liquid stain. In the first example, the examiner receives a lot of information about the damage before knowing where to look for it. In the second example, the examiner first learns where to look and then what will be found. The second example is easier to follow.

Phrases not sentences After years of writing in complete sentences, we have switched to using simple phrases. Compare these two descriptions for speed of comprehension: On the front of the PR sleeve, 40mm from the cuff, there is a brown liquid stain measuring 20mm in diameter. • Front PR sleeve, 40mm from cuff: brown liquid stain, 20mm diameter. The second description of damage is faster to read and locate on the artefact.

Streamlining In recent decades, museum workers worldwide demand yet more streamlining. A large collaboration between registrars and conservators has evolved. The first topic is avoiding duplication of work. For example, when objects are acquired, perhaps only one condition report, the registrar’s, will be written. There are no hard and fast rules; conservators will continue to be asked to prepare condition reports as required by contract or if a high degree of detail is necessary. Streamlining written and photographic documentation is another focus. Making written condition notes faster and easier without sacrificing information is challenging. Some conservators 250

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prefer using tick boxes with pre-set condition terms. This may work well with some media, but if all damages are exceptions then using tick boxes adds little efficiency. On the other hand, if a large number of condition reports are needed for artefacts with extremely similar damages, tick boxes can be useful. A picture is worth a thousand words; a high-resolution digital photograph is even better. Added notations about condition or dimensions make these images extremely useful. Notations may be handwritten or created using various computer applications. Portable devices such as cell phones and tablets are popular for photographing artefacts and/or making condition notations. Textile conservators working with costume have difficulties documenting areas such as the interior of a sleeve or a trouser leg. Often period costumes have three or more components; the volume of photographs to document all areas could be large. Despite these reservations, LACMA textile conservators have implemented some of the streamlining techniques discussed here. Recent touring costume exhibitions have had streamlined written condition reports accompanied by a wealth of digital photographs. Flat textiles are ideal candidates for adding notations to images.

Sharing Going paperless is not a new trend, but transitioning from a paper-based condition reporting system to a digital one can take some time. Some museums are out in front embracing digital formats, while others are taking a wait-and-see approach. Limited sharing on a common electronic platform can eliminate the need for transporting bulky binders with paper documents and printed images. If there is an abundance of photographic documentation, the most salient photographs can be incorporated into the written condition report and then a separate folder with additional condition photographs can be shared. Another caveat when working away from your home laboratory or museum is to be sure that there is reliable internet access at your destination. If not, downloading the necessary information onto a portable device is recommended.

The future At one time, it was thought that a universal language or numbering system could simplify basic condition report writing terms. That has fallen by the wayside. Now, the ease of sharing digital images and inserting arrows, colour coding, etc., has made language less of a barrier. Simple conservation terms can be translated quickly with an internet search. The idea of a universal language for describing an artefact’s condition is not completely lost. Words to describe condition still need to be learned, no matter what language is used. Table 4.1.2 includes standard terms used by textile conservators at LACMA.

Example of a condition report Figures 4.1.3 and 4.1.4 show different methods used to record the condition of a tapestry-woven coca bag from the late sixteenth or early seventeenth century.

Conclusion The success of a condition report lies in its usefulness. At LACMA the most successful condition report has a written narrative, annotated images and high-resolution digital photographs. It must be thorough, easy to read, and include information the recipient needs. The written narrative has a 251

Catherine C. McLean, Susan R. Schmalz, Kaoru Yui Table 4.1.2  A list of terms commonly used by LACMA textile conservators. TEXTILES MECHANICAL abrasion break/split/crack crease/bend/fold bulge brittle indentation insect hole insect grazing old repair/mend rumpled/crumpled scratch tear/cut crushed surface broken element loose element missing element unstitched flattened gathered frayed pilling shattered

DISCOLORATION adhesive residue adhesive staining accretion discoloration fading foxing flyspeck generalized darkening mold mold staining stain surface soiling tide line smudge liquid stain

MEDIA bleeding colour shift/loss corrosion glossy area patch/repair matte area paint/media loss powdering/friable wrinkled

distinct style that includes a systematic examination area by area, bullet points for each observation, and phrases that begin with the location followed by the damage description. The need for more streamlined report preparation procedures is an ongoing process.

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Figure 4.1.3 A written condition report with numbered details referring to digital images. Image © Museum Associates/LACMA, by Catherine McLean.

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Figure 4.1.4 An overall digital image with condition notations (LACMA # 70.3.2). © Museum Associates/ LACMA, by Catherine McLean.

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References AIC (1994). Code of ethics and guidelines for practice. Available from: https://www.culturalheritage.org/ about-conservation/code-of-ethics AICCM (1998). Visual glossary of conservation terms. Available from: https://aiccm.org.au/conservation/ visual-glossary/ AIC TSG (2020). TSG chapter IV. Documentation of textiles – section B. Factors to consider. AIC TSG conservation wiki. Available from: https://www.conservation-wiki.com/wiki/ TSG_Chapter_IV._Documentation_of_Textiles_-_Section_B._Factors_to_Consider Appelbaum, B. (2007). The purposes of treatment documentation and creating treatment documentation. In Conservation treatment methodology (pp. 384–417). Oxford: Elsevier. Breeze, C.M. (2015). Speaking textile conservation. Presentation to NEMA Conference, November 6. Available from: http://www.museumtextiles.com/uploads/7/8/9/0/7890082/speaking_textile_conservation_ nema_2015.pdf Nodding, H., Oakley, V. & Smith, S. (2008). Streamlining condition reporting – a new approach at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Icon News, 18, 32–33.

Note * Published in 2010, revised in 2024.

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4.2 DOCUMENTATION AS CONSERVATION* The treatment of an archaeological Andean khipu Nicole Rode, Cecilia Pardo, Jon Clindaniel

Introduction During treatment, textile conservators can spend many hours looking closely at an object. This extended examination, together with our knowledge of textile construction methods, understanding of condition and experience handling the most fragile of textiles, makes textile conservators ideally placed to interpret features of an object not otherwise noticed or understood. This case study shows an example of how the information gathered by textile conservators, together with that of curatorial and research colleagues, can improve understanding of a textile and increase access to the information it holds. In this project, exhibition curator Cecilia Pardo provided the cultural context of the khipu, which facilitated its understanding and display. Textile conservator Nicole Rode carried out its detailed documentation and treatment, and khipu researcher Jon Clindaniel advised the team which features of the khipu were of interest to scholars, and how they should be recorded so the information could be accessed by researchers. Named after the Quechua word for ‘knot’, khipu were the primary record-keeping system used primarily by the Inka, but also the Wari before them, in the Andean region of South America during pre-Hispanic times.1 The devices kept a record of various activities important for government administration, such as tax, debt and census information. In addition to accounts, it is also thought that khipu were used to record narrative stories, poems or songs. Khipu consist of a long cord from which hang a varying number of knotted, coloured, pendant cords (Figure 4.2.1). In addition to the knots, other features such as the distribution of colour patterns, the twist and ply of the cords, the direction in which the knots were tied, as well as the spacing between them, have been shown to encode information (Clindaniel, 2019). Because the ability to read khipu has not yet been fully recovered, their decoding continues to be an active area of research within Andean studies, making access to these primary source materials important for scholars (Hyland, 2016; Clindaniel, 2019; Medrano, 2021; OKR Team, 2022). The poor condition of an Inka khipu (Am1937,0213.84) in the collection of the British Museum precluded its study and display; its cords were so tangled, and aged fibres so brittle, that it could not be handled safely, effectively rendering it ‘unreadable’ and its information inaccessible. To facilitate access, the khipu underwent conservation. Remedial conservation, such as realigning tangled cords and supporting split fragments, was an important part of the khipu’s conservation DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-31256

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Figure 4.2.1  Khipu Am1937,0213.84  before conservation. © 2022 Trustees of the British Museum.

strategy. But a key aspect of the treatment was also its documentation. Because of the khipu’s complexity and inherent fragility, the skills of a textile conservator were required to complete the documentation. Working with curatorial and research colleagues, the documentation was uploaded into the Open Khipu ­Repository, a database of all known khipu in public and private collections. The information held by the khipu is now able to be accessed by scholars from across the world and included in future research.

The use of khipu Although the first known khipu date to the Wari (AD 600–900) (Splitstoser, 2014), it was the Inka (c.1400–1533 CE) who assimilated them and expanded the system. The administration of a vast multi-ethnic empire such as the Tawantinsuyo required an efficient control of the population to organize public works, and to guarantee production and the management of surpluses across the territory (see Urton & Chu, 2015; 2019). In this context, khipu played a decisive role as portable objects that recorded and stored information that could then be transported over long distances in a short period of time, from local communities to the capital in Cusco. Following the Conquista, khipu were incorporated into colonial society, where they were mainly used to record censuses, taxes and court files. However, conflicts between colonial ­administrators – who could not read the khipu – and Indigenous people – who were sceptical of the narratives recorded in written documents – led to the prohibition of khipu around the end of the sixteenth century. The use of khipu was thus limited to rural parishes, where Catholic priests 257

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ordered converted natives to keep a record of their sins, noting them down using khipu, along with tax payments and ecclesiastical obligations. Today, khipu continue to be used by some Andean communities, although their function has changed over time. The town of Rapaz in the highlands of Lima is home to a group of over 200 khipu joined together and kept inside the community centre, where special ceremonies are performed. During the annual event of La Huayrona in the town of San Andrés de Tupicocha, the community’s new leaders are elected and khipu are used to record each of the ten groups’ contribution to the community (Salomon, 2002).

Khipu Am1937,0213.84  in the British Museum Requested for exhibition in the British Museum’s Peru: A Journey in Time exhibition, khipu Am1937,0213.84 is thought to be from the Inka Empire (c.1400–1533 CE). It is in fact three khipu fragments tied together (denoted as khipu 1, 2 and 3), although when they were joined to each other, during Inka, colonial or more recent times, is unclear (Figure 4.2.1). The three khipu are not unusual in their construction compared to other statistical, non-­narrative khipu. Each has a thick three-ply primary cord, from which hang up to 80 closely packed pendant cords – thinner plied cords between approximately 250 and 400mm long. From some of the pendants hang yet more cords, known as subsidiary cords. All are likely to be made from cotton. Most of the cords have one or more knots tied along their length, with the knots intentionally positioned to create two horizontal rows and representing a specific numerical value (Figure 4.2.2). For a full description of general khipu construction see Ascher & Ascher, 1997). A variety of colours have been used to make the khipu cords, including a range of browns with either red, yellow or grey tones, beige, black, pink and green, indicating the use of both natural and dyed fibre. On each khipu, the cords are physically arranged into groups separated by small gaps and colour has been used to record information. In khipu 1, the groups are ‘banded’ – the cords in a group are all the same colour. Khipu 2 and 3, conversely, are ‘seriated’; the cords in a group are different colours, but the colour pattern is repeated in each group. Based on her analysis of post-conquest khipu, Hyland (2016) suggests that banded khipu record the labour, goods or ­services provided by individual members of a community, while seriated khipu record those ­provided by whole communities, known as ayllu. Further differences in the way the khipu have been constructed are also thought to encode ­information, although what the choices signify is not yet understood. For example, in khipu 1, all the pendant cords are secured to the primary cord in the verso position and all the knots are tied in the S direction. In khipu 2 and 3, all the pendant cords are secured in the recto position, and one of the types of knot – the figure-of-eight knots – is found tied in the S and in the Z direction.

Condition The khipu was in a fair condition for its age. The primary cords of all three fragments had been cut at each end, making it impossible to tell in which direction the khipu would have been read. Many of the hanging pendant cords had split, their detached sections taking any knots they may have had with them. In khipu 3, eight pendant cords had split just below their point of attachment. Likewise, most of the cords across the last two groups of khipu 3, over 20 pendants, had less than 60mm of length remaining on each. Five detached cord fragments were found caught in the main tangle of cords, with more fragments stored in a separate sample bag. Detached cord fragments ranged from

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Figure 4.2.2  Detail of the khipu’s cords and knots, after realignment. © 2022 Trustees of the British Museum.

30mm long to full length, the latter predominantly subsidiary cords whose associated pendants had torn or crumbled away. In addition, at least four of the cords were partially split, where one of the threads in the ply had torn, making them more vulnerable to loss. The loss of cords was a concern, as it was more than just a disruption to the khipu’s original composition. The cords were part of a sequence of information that could never be recovered, akin to losing pages of a book. Once lost, there would be no way of piecing together what information they may have held. One reason for much of the damage was the condition of the deep brown and black fibres. While all the cords exhibited some degree of brittleness due to age, the majority of cords that had split were a deep brown and black colour, and any handling of those that remained caused significant powdering. Bathophenanthroline indicator paper tests applied to these cords confirmed the presence of iron, suggesting the colours may have been achieved with an iron tannin dye. These dyes are known to degrade the substrate on which they are applied. While there has been a lot of work to develop treatments to both slow down and stabilize this type of damage, at present treatments are highly interventive and complex, often affecting the handle and appearance of fibres, and therefore are not widely adopted by textile conservators (Daniels, 1999; Smith et al., 2018). Besides cord loss, of equal concern was how tangled the cords had become, making it almost impossible to follow a cord along its length to read the information it held. The tangled cords also made it difficult to appreciate how the khipu would have been used. None of the knots lined up horizontally to reflect the decimal positional structure, and it was tricky to spot the colour patterning across the groups of pendants.

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The Open Khipu Repository Background reading about khipu by the conservator prior to treatment led to an awareness of the Open Khipu Repository (OKR) – an open-source digital repository that stores the largest and most up-to-date compilation of data on extant Inka-style khipu from archaeological sites in the Andes, as well as museums around the world (OKR Team, 2022). The digital repository is overseen by an independent advisory board and administered by the Open Khipu Research Laboratory, under the direction of Jon Clindaniel at the University of Chicago. Currently, 630 of the 1,386 surviving khipu in museums and private collections (according to Medrano, 2021) are included within the OKR, but this number continues to grow as additional khipu become available for study. In its current form, the OKR contains an open-source, open-access, relational database. This publicly accessible nature makes the repository particularly amenable to computational khipu research and Inka khipu decipherment efforts via computational workflows, employing common scripting languages such as Python or R, for instance. With regards to decipherment, such digital compilations of Inka khipu data have proven important for identifying widespread semantic and grammatical features in Inka khipus in recent years. For instance, consider the banding and seriation colour patterns that Hyland found to relate to individual and group-level accounting records, respectively, in several post-conquest khipus (Hyland, 2016). Using pattern-matching algorithms to identify the two colour patterns in digitized khipu from across the former Inka empire, Clindaniel found evidence that the two colour patterns were broadly used by the Inka as conventions to denote the levels of aggregation predicted by Hyland – making it possible to interpret the type of data encoded on a broad swatch of Inka khipu for the first time (Clindaniel, 2019). These types of insights about widespread conventionality are only possible by approaching khipu data from a large-scale, aggregate perspective, making computationally tractable, digital compilations of khipu data such as the OKR essential for the future of khipu research.

Realignment and documentation Discussions before treatment between the conservator, curator and exhibition designer considered how the khipu should be displayed, including positioning the khipu into the frequently seen radial shape, with the primary cord laid in a circle, and pendant cords spread out like rays of a sun. While this would have made each cord’s features clearly visible, the conservator had concerns over the amount of handling and stitching required to display khipu Am1937,0213.84 like this due to its very brittle condition. There was also an interest to present the khipu in a way that more closely reflected how they would have been used, and illustrate their three-dimensional, object-like nature. Thus, it was agreed to display the khipu with their cords hanging down, closely packed and in order, the knots positioned to show their decimal positional structures, and the cords’ kinks retained to highlight their three-dimensional qualities. To make the khipu’s information available for research in the OKR, the conservator carried out detailed documentation of each cord. This was done during the untangling and alignment process to reduce handling. OKR administrator Jon Clindaniel advised the textile conservator which features were of interest to scholars and explained how to record them using a series of number and symbols, so each feature could be uploaded to the database. Using pre-prepared Excel spreadsheets designed by the OKR Team specifically for khipu documentation, the conservator recorded

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between 13 and 17 pieces of information about each of the 278 cords, generating more than 4,100 pieces of data. The information recorded included spin, ply, attachment method, probable fibre type, cord length, termination mode, colour, colour pattern, as well as the number and location of subsidiary cords. Detailed information about each knot was also of course recorded, including knot type, location and direction, long knot axis orientation, as well as the knots’ individual and total numerical values (see Ascher & Ascher, 1997 for a full explanation of these features). Similar features were collected about each primary cord, as well as the number of groups in each khipu, the number of cords in each group, the location of each group along the primary cord and the spacing between them. The information was entered into the spreadsheets and uploaded into the OKR. While the recording extended treatment time significantly, documenting the khipu was considered a key part of the object’s conservation strategy and, because the risk of damaging the khipu was at its highest during this phase, required the skills of a textile conservator to complete safely. Knowledge of textile construction, attention to detail, the ability to handle fragile textiles and evaluate the effect of the process on the object’s condition were essential skills that enabled the khipu to be documented without being damaged. The resulting data, a digitized version of the khipu, is now preserved in the OKR, able to be accessed by scholars and included in future research.

Preventing further loss To prevent further loss of evidence from the physical khipu itself, partially split cords were supported and, where appropriate, detached fragments reintroduced using fine paper twists. 3.5gsm mulberry paper was torn into lengths and twisted to match the width of one of the cord’s spun threads. Once toned with acrylic paint, a section of the paper twist was coated with 20% Klucel G® (a hydroxypropylcellulose adhesive) dissolved in industrial methylated spirit, the solution primarily chosen for its appropriate bond strength, ease of reversibility and lack of water, which may have caused the fibres to powder under its weight. The paper twist was wrapped around a strong area of the cord and nestled between the yarns of the ply to achieve maximum surface contact. Once dry, the rest of the twist was coated with adhesive and wrapped around the damaged area until it reached and wrapped around enough of the strong area of the associated fragment (Figure 4.2.3). In a few cases, detached fragments were able to be matched to a cord on the khipu. These were secured together using the paper twist method described above. But because of the risk of altering the khipu’s statistics, only fragments that very obviously used to be the same cord were joined. The joined fragments were those that had been found directly adjacent to one another. Each pair had matching colours, the same number and tightness of ply, and their split edges lined up. The treatments were recorded in the museum’s database, and the paper twists act as physical records of the pairing, easily seen on close inspection. The fragments that were not able to be reintroduced into the khipu were placed on a padded board and stored next to it in the same box. The khipu was laid on a padded board, secured with stitches around the primary cords and displayed at a low angle (Figure 4.2.4). The support board will serve as both a display and long-term storage board, preventing the need to move the khipu.

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Figure 4.2.3 During conservation. A detached subsidiary cord being secured back in position. The red ­arrows point to the toned paper twist, which wraps around and sits between the cord’s ply. © 2022 Trustees of the British Museum.

Figure 4.2.4 Khipu Am1937,0213.84  after conservation, on a support board. © 2022 Trustees of the British Museum.

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Conclusion Work on the khipu demonstrates how a key part of a textile conservator’s work, particularly with regards to fragile archaeological textiles, is to recognize and communicate information about a textile’s features and condition. Conservation can involve, by necessity, access to areas of a textile, such as the reverse or hidden inner surfaces, which may not be accessible once treatment is complete. Recognizing, interpreting, documenting and communicating technical features and aspects of condition can be part of the conservation strategy itself, as well as any interventive treatment that may be undertaken. This can be time-consuming, however, and needs to be balanced against other priorities. But the information recognized and documented by a textile conservator, in collaboration with curatorial and research colleagues, is often central to the understanding of an object, and, as in the case of the khipu, can increase access to the information held by an object and feed into wider research.

References Ascher, M. & Ascher, R. (1997). Mathematics of the Incas: code of the Quipu. New York: Dover. Clindaniel, J. (2019). Toward a grammar of the Inka khipu: investigating the production of non-numerical signs. Unpublished PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, Harvard University. Daniels, V. (1999). Stabilisation treatments for black-dyed New Zealand flax. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 1999, Lyon (pp. 579–584). London: James & James. Hyland, S. (2016). How khipus indicated labour contributions in an Andean Village: an explanation of colour banding, seriation, and ethnocategories. Journal of Material Culture, 21(4), 490–504. Medrano, M. (2021). Quipus: mil años de historia anudada en los Andes y su futuro digital [Khipus: a thousand years of history knotted in the Andes and its digital future]. Lima: Planeta Peru. OKR Team (2022). The Open Khipu Repository. Zenodo. Available from: DOI: 10.5281/zenodo.5037551. Salomon, F. (2002). Patrimonial khipu in a modern Peruvian village. In J. Quilter & G. Urton (Eds), Narrative threads: accounting and recounting in Andean khipu (pp. 293–319). Austin: University of Texas Press. Smith, C., Paterson, R., Lowe, B. & Te Kanawa, R. (2018). Consolidation of black-dyed Māori textile artefacts: evaluating the efficacy of sodium alginate. Studies in Conservation, 63(3), 139–154. Splitstoser, J. (2014). Practice and meaning in spiral-wrapped batons and cords from Cerrillos, a Late Paracas site in the Ica Valley, Peru. In D. Arnold & P. Dransart (Eds), Textiles, technical practice, and power in the Andes (pp. 46–82). London: Archetype. Urton, G. & Chu, A. (2015). Accounting in the king’s storehouse: the Inkawasi Khipu Archive. Latin American Antiquity, 26(4), 512–529. Urton, G. & Chu, A. (2019). The invention of taxation in Tawantinsuyu. Latin American Antiquity, 30(1), 1–16.

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 Information from the exhibition Khipus. Nuestra historia en nudos, at the Museo de Arte de Lima, 5 ­November 2020–15 August 2021.

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4.3 RECORDING CHANGE* 1978–2008–2024: the rationale for suction table cleaning of a needlework sampler with iron gall ink Patsy Orlofsky, Barbara Lehrecke, Mary Kaldany, Rebecca Johnson-Dibb, Karen Clark, Katherine Barker Introduction Evolution in textile conservation is a result of influences arising from connoisseurship, technology, science, economics and professionalism. These five driving forces shape decision-making in the field and in particular in a regional centre.1 They provide the framework for this case study on cleaning an embroidered sampler. This type of needlework was selected because it is ubiquitous both as an heirloom and a treatment artefact. Cleaning was chosen because it is central to a textile conservator’s practice, and changing attitudes towards cleaning prove revealing about the field as a whole. For the 2024 reprint of this book, we have reviewed the 2008 account of our treatment in light of developments in conservation since that time. The case study involves a sampler made by a New England schoolgirl, Rebekah Richardson, in 1808. Embroideries were staples of women’s education in America in the early nineteenth century. This sampler was brought to the Textile Conservation Workshop (TCW) in 2008 by an antiques dealer. It is silk embroidery on a linen fabric. The client’s primary interest was in cleaning the severe stains across the face of the textile so that he could sell the piece at a satisfactory price. The client and conservators at TCW ultimately chose to carry out a localized stain-reduction treatment. No case study stands alone. Its usefulness and future applicability depend on its place within a wider context. What factors justify the treatment choices? Early texts in the field of conservation were essentially catalogues of treatment choices, offered without wider perspective. While they presented nuts-and-bolts options, they lacked the capability of broader application that hindsight, experience and maturation provide. In her 2007 book, Appelbaum warns that without considering the non-material issues that surround the object, ‘we risk arriving at a treatment that, although perhaps technically flawless, may not be appropriate for a particular object or its custodian’ (p. xx). What broader circumstances influenced the conservation treatment choices for this sampler? In this case study, the chosen treatment is presented in terms of the five modern drivers noted above: 1) connoisseurship, 2) technology, 3) science, 4) economics, and 5) professionalism. This comprehensive context framed our technical approach to the Richardson Sampler, as well as all other textiles; and it is through this construct that an evolving conservation methodology is discernible. DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-32264

Suction table cleaning of a needlework sampler

Bias of connoisseurship In the formative years of textile conservation, a fundamental principle of treatment was the assumption that decision-making followed objective criteria, and subjective, value-based, judgements were rejected as unscientific. The old standard as described by Muñoz Viñas was: Thus, every conserved object should be given the same importance, and a ‘single standard’ should be applied to its conservation. When applying this single standard of care a masterpiece by a great artist should be treated according to similar criteria, and with similar attention to that given to a minor, anonymous painting, or to a tin toy dating from the 1940s (Muñoz Viñas, 2005: 202).2 In contrast, contemporary thinking now tolerates the flexibility that all artefacts have a plurality of meanings, functions and values which are subject to multiple interpretations. Further, it admits that there are subjective, even preconceived biases and cultural factors that inhibit or encourage us when considering treatments. For archaeological and ethnographic objects very little treatment is prescribed, presumably because they were first collected for academic study, while for tapestries full-blown restoration is the norm, probably because they are pictorial. This modern heterodoxy promotes the notion that there are no interpretively neutral treatments, and even allows that unconscious tastes are projected into the conservation/restoration. ‘Each conservation process is done to fulfill a number of expectations and needs of a given, unrepeatable kind, and there is no reason to impose a single standard’ (Muñoz Viñas, 2005: 203). Thus, the early, overriding, theoretical guideline for conservation practice gave way to a complex network of more realistic connoisseurship elements. This factors in tastes, beliefs, the marketplace, the innate desire to recapture original appearance, aesthetic biases and the influence exerted by the owner or custodian. To these some might add a group of completely inexpressible prejudices: greed, vanity, sentimentality and religiosity. The sampler is the quintessential American heirloom (Figures 4.3.1 and 4.3.2), the product of school instruction and symbol of the desire of parents to afford a school that taught ‘accomplishments’. These domestic textiles, like dowry fabrics, ethnic embroideries and ritual cloths, transmit deep associations and can be appealing in their blemishes and mellowness. Notwithstanding, an owner may reasonably clean these textiles.3 Neither owners nor dealers take a casual approach to these samplers; they carry a history of female education, genealogical connections and intimate relation to the people who taught, created and inherited them. The Richardson Sampler, rich in folk art imagery, seemed marred and compromised by its stains. Knowing the stains could not be removed completely, the treatment goal in 2008 was to improve its appearance and longevity. In 2024, connoisseurship issues are still germane to our treatment approach. They demand thoughtful balancing of all the biases, both conscious and unconscious, to arrive at a treatment that satisfies as many goals as possible.

Specialized technology Typical cleaning methods for a schoolgirl sampler at TCW have changed over time largely due to advancements in technology and improved equipment such as the suction table. Although originally designed for treating works of art on paper, refinements prior to 2008 had led to the development of a suction table uniquely suited for textiles, permitting treatments such as localized stain removal, overall contact cleaning, blocking and drying. In 2024, we might also consider other options including gel-based cleaning methods used with a barrier of cyclomethicone D5. 265

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Figure 4.3.1  Rebekah Richardson sampler before treatment. © TCW, Textile Conservation Workshop.

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Figure 4.3.2  Rebekah Richardson sampler after treatment. © TCW, Textile Conservation Workshop.

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The Richardson Sampler exhibited two unrelated kinds of staining: severe brown stains (eventually determined to be associated with iron-tannate dyes) surrounding the dark embroidered alphabet that were not readily soluble in deionized water; and lighter brown, liquid-borne tide-lines throughout the sampler that were responsive to deionized water. (The latter stains had resulted from bleeding of the ink under-drawing beneath the embroidery stitches.) The two types of staining present in this sampler demanded localized cleaning rather than overall contact cleaning. Contact cleaning, a treatment involving dampened cloths above and below the sampler, was contra-indicated because of the discovery of iron (II) ions, which could be further spread by contact with the moist cloths. Therefore, only localized stain removal and drying are discussed here as suction table treatments. The suction table offered a means of applying deionized water to the soluble lighter brown tide-lines while avoiding more risky areas, such as the still intact portions of the under-drawing. The aforementioned areas of severe brown staining surrounding the dark embroidered alphabet could then be treated in an isolated step with a chelating agent. The 2008 case study brought into focus the need for textile conservators to understand the basic mechanics of the textile suction table. Of the numerous advancements in suction table technology, three changes can be credited with significantly improving its use for localized stain removal and drying of textiles. These are: a shift in the dominant airflow pattern, an increase in pressure and a new physical surface of the table. The airflow pattern of the early paper suction table was primarily downward. The latest, both in 2008 and today, textile suction table is a transverse or lateral flow, large area, suction table, but maintains the option of working with a downward flow. The vacuum port is located on one end of the table. Air is introduced into a bleed at the opposite end, and when the motor is turned on the air passes across the table towards the port end. In the case of this sampler, downward flow was used in localized stain removal, and lateral flow was used for drying when saturated areas needed to be dried quickly. The success of localized stain removal on the suction table is dependent on the equipment’s capacity to overcome particular characteristics inherent in the textile including capillarity and interstices. In a woven textile, the ordered arrangement of fibres into long yarns encourages outward wicking of any cleaning liquid due to capillarity. Thus, the pressure from the suction table must be great enough to overcome this force, specifically at least 8 inches of mercury. This was accomplished at TCW with the addition of motors capable of producing enough pressure to overcome the inherent physical characteristics of woven textiles that differ so greatly from the felted structure of paper.4 We use two motors in sequence. At the same time, because liquid and airflow through an object on the suction table will follow the path of least resistance, the majority of flow through a textile is through the interstices between the yarns. The relatively open-weave structure of the linen ground fabric of this and most samplers encourages solvents to pass down through the interstices without solubilizing the stain. The key to localized stain removal on the textile suction table then is to achieve a balance that allows enough working time to solubilize the stain while preventing outward wicking due to capillarity. By closing down most of the table with a membrane and leaving only a small area open to work through, one limits the volume of flow and increases the suction. Through manipulating the size of the opening, the levels of flow and pressure can be adjusted and balanced with the method of solvent delivery and blotter of choice. The physical surface of the early paper suction table was perforated aluminium above other stacked perforated sheets, a configuration designed to encourage downward airflow. Among the first textile-friendly improvements made to the paper table was the addition of a woven stainless steel screen surface above the perforated sheets. Eventually, this was replaced with a fine polyester screen sympathetic to most textiles because of its smoothness and comparable openness, over a shallow stack of perforated layers chosen to direct the lateral airflow. The polyester screen surface 268

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Figure 4.3.3  Drying on the lateral flow textile suction table. © TCW, Textile Conservation Workshop.

also enhances stain removal as it allows the cleaning liquid to be effectively evacuated away from contact with the textile rather than keeping it saturated. The most noteworthy result of the change in airflow direction is more predictable drying behaviour. Airflow just below the table surface means drying occurs first in the layer that is adjacent, usually an absorbent cloth, and then proceeds upward into the textile. Because stains and soils migrate into the driest place, they deposit in the bottom cloth, making it act as a poultice. The conservator, mindful of the airflow pattern, employs it to his or her advantage when fine-tuning drying or cleaning treatments (Figure 4.3.3). The lateral flow textile table was designed expressly to improve drying times over those of the downward flow table. Drying was accomplished on the earlier table by opening a bleed in the top membrane and pulling air through the textile. This necessitated a top cloth to guard against air pollutants. The top cloth unfortunately obscured the textile from view during the procedure, often sticking due to hydrogen bonds formed in the drying process. The absence of the top membrane also posed a problem. It removed pressure during drying which often translated into undulations or even shrinkage from a lack of restraint. The lateral flow table allows textiles to dry more quickly while held under pressure by the transparent membrane. In 2008 the lateral flow textile suction table with polyester screen surface and motors capable of achieving 12 inches of mercury improved the quality and ease with which we were able to clean textiles. In 2024 the advance of rigid gel technology has provided us with another tool to use in conjunction with the suction table for localized cleaning (Angelova et al., 2017). Gels provide textile conservators a delivery system that can be used with or without suction equipment. On their own, gels help overcome the issue of lost solvent through the interstices of the weave, increase solvation time and help control outward wicking of the solvent. When used with the suction table, even more control is afforded. Additionally, cyclomethicone barriers could today be used to isolate the soluble under-drawing in the Richardson Sampler.

Scientific advancements Ongoing research on the subject of iron gall corrosion on cellulosic substrates affects the way samplers are treated at TCW. The Richardson Sampler illustrates a treatment that was shaped by an active reading of published scientific research about iron gall ink and iron-tannate dyes. 269

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Preliminary tests on this sampler showed that while much of the widespread staining in the linen ground fabric could be cleaned with deionized water, the severe stains surrounding the dark brown embroidery were quite stubborn. The nearby embroidery threads were noted to be friable and powdering, a common phenomenon that conservators have observed with dark brown and black dyes on fabrics and yarns, as with dark brown historic inks on paper. Although this particular degradation has long been correctly attributed to ‘iron gall corrosion’ by both paper and textile conservators, its chemical characterization and the mechanisms of degradation had not been fully absorbed into the teaching and practice of textile conservation. In the mid 1990s, a group of European paper conservators revisited the topic, collecting and publishing a formidable body of new scientific research on iron gall (Neevel, 1999; Reissland, 2001). Although the research originated in the realm of paper conservation, there was soon enough useful information to draw both theoretical and practical conclusions for the field of textile conservation as well (Barker, 2002).5 This discussion about the deleterious effects of iron-based dyes and inks, which bridges the disciplines of paper and textile conservation, has expanded our understanding of the inherent problems with iron-tannate dyes (those made from iron and tannic acid) and shaped our approach to treatment. In the Richardson Sampler’s tenacious stains, a measurable presence of damaging unbound iron (II) ions was detectable (Figure 4.3.4).6 We now know that the mechanisms of fibre degradation include metal-catalysed oxidation and acid-catalysed hydrolysis caused by the free iron (II) ions. It remains true that these iron (II) ions are easily moved by partial exposure to moisture. Thus, overall moist cloth contact cleaning on the suction table, which once might have been a logical proposal for the sampler, would risk spreading the iron ions throughout the linen substrate and trigger more widespread degradation. It is ironic that the minimal and controlled alternative to complete immersion represents every bit as much risk to the sampler, but of a different sort. The distribution of the iron-catalysed degradation within the cellulose only grows, expanding the area now in jeopardy. So, what to do with a severely stained sampler in a condition that is unacceptable to the owner? To reduce the staining some iron must be solubilized, a risky venture. In 2008, our specific response

Figure 4.3.4 Test strip having turned pink, indicating presence of water-soluble iron (II) ions in brown yarns. © TCW, Textile Conservation Workshop.

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to the question was a localized stain removal treatment using a dilute chelating agent on the suction table. This allowed us to work in isolated regions, thereby minimizing the spread of both the solvent and the iron (II) ions. In 2024 we might employ a barrier of cyclomethicone D5, and a rigid agar gel to deliver the chelator and then remove the stain with deionized water. Research on the treatment of iron-tannate dyes on cellulosic fibres is on-going. Development of chelation options and techniques on textiles have evolved to include immersion (when possible) in baths of a variety of dilute chelators such as sodium citrate, phytate or EDTA, possibly followed by a bicarbonate bath to impart an alkali reserve that can help prevent long-term acid hydrolysis (Castaneda & O’Connor, 2019; Camp & Cnossen, 2021). This greater knowledge and experience might have influenced our treatment decisions for the Richardson Sampler.

Economic influences The economic needs of the owner can also exert an influence on the treatment discussion. Macroeconomic circumstances are cyclical and affect both public and private clients. Granting institutions as well as private clients have fluctuating amounts to dispense depending on the ebb and flow of greater economic conditions. Museum funding for conservation treatment varies with society’s overall prosperity, political attitudes and private sector interests. Attitudes towards these economic considerations have evolved, requiring more flexibility. The conservator in a regional centre is trained to contour treatments to a client’s economic parameters. It is frequently necessary to offer a financial range of treatment options, because if a treatment seems excessively expensive, the client may forego any or all of it. It is important to state the compromises that exist and sometimes even include the option not to treat the object despite the fact that the non-treatment option may result in a disservice to the object and, frankly, in a loss of finances for the conservator. It is incumbent upon the conservator to be creative and devise a financially viable treatment. Sometimes evolving research and technological developments shorten treatment times and therefore cost. The construction and condition of the Richardson Sampler required a complex, time-­consuming cleaning approach that had to be reconciled with the owner-dealer’s finances. The client’s financial considerations were a part of the decision-making process. Because the client was a dealer for whom too much expense in treatment could have adversely affected the resale margins, he might have elected not to proceed. Fortunately, the developments in iron gall research and suction table technology helped offset the time drain by allowing more effective stain removal options that could be accomplished more quickly. While the sampler was mounted, the framing was postponed to reduce cost. Balancing the client’s financial imperative and the requirements of an effective and ethical treatment is important as the client base for regional centres becomes more economically diverse.

Professional maturity Textile conservators have always relied on research and support from the larger conservation community as well as adjacent fields to inform our approach. In the early years, practitioners often came into textile conservation from a range of disciplines as diverse as textile science, art history, anthropology, archaeology, museum studies and fibre arts, bringing with them adaptable methodologies from those fields. Today, most textile conservators are trained in graduate programmes with integrated curricula that impart competence in many areas of study such as chemistry and analytical science, art history and studio arts. This has consolidated a significant body of knowledge specific to textile conservation. 271

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In 2008, current research informed the treatment choices presented by the Richardson Sampler’s iron-tannate dyed embroidery threads and liquid-borne stains. We were able to take advantage of internet-based resources. For example, the website CAMEO (Conservation and Art Material Encyclopedia Online) had a link to the Iron Gall Ink Corrosion Page, which set forth general theory and treatment parameters for an object containing iron gall components. This afforded access to the, then current, topics under discussion by scientists and made it possible to chart a course of appropriate remediation. The most recent advances in specialized knowledge and emerging research are even more readily available in 2024. The field has many internet-based resources that comprise its current ‘bookshelf’. These actively participatory sites are always under construction, waiting to integrate new information. The global circulation of research, experience and technical information allows one to incorporate new thoughts and techniques with little lag time. Today, in addition to CAMEO and the original fora, such as the conservation distribution lists, AATA (Art and Architecture Technical Abstracts), CoOL (Conservation On-line), BCIN (Bibliographic Database of the Canadian Heritage Information Network), wiki discussion groups, niche publishing and subject-specific conferences have burgeoned. Online refresher courses, interactive bulletin boards, frequently updated catalogues from academic art conservation publishers, Zoom courses and webinars are now available to browse and inform. The sharing of ideas and practical experiences can help to alleviate the apprehension of the conservator or team working in relative isolation and enhance the sophistication and subtlety of a given treatment.

Conclusion Maturity in textile conservation over the last 45 years is a result of influences from connoisseurship, technology, science, economics and professionalism. Connoisseurship considerations determine the level of intrusion and restoration prescribed within each category, and conservators respond to a great many external cultural biases, concerns and attitudes by broadening and refining their treatment strategies accordingly. Technological advances have led to the development of suction equipment uniquely suited for textiles, giving rise to a specialized protocol for cleaning, flattening and drying. Scientific advancement continues to change the landscape of alternatives presently in the hands of conservators, sometimes abolishing previous standard treatments, such as contact cleaning a sampler, and sometimes widening the repertoire as exemplified by adapting phytate treatment of iron-tannates from paper conservation or the use of rigid gels as a delivery system for solvents. Economic considerations have always affected textile conservation, but now these are overtly factored in. The development of more refined treatments in textile conservation has been aided by the proliferation of web-based source materials as well as sharing of textile-related information. Modern methodology considers all of these elements to greater or lesser degrees depending on the object and client. Good contemporary conservation is comprised of two notions: judgements that balance the material risks and benefits, and decisions that consider all the non-material contexts associated with a particular textile. Today’s professional and knowledgeable practitioners consider these elements as not just theory for discussion but an active dimension in the decision-making process.

References AIC (1994). Code of ethics and guidelines for practice. Available from: https://www.culturalheritage.org/ about-conservation/code-of-ethics Angelova, L., Ormsby, B., Townsend, J. & Wolbers, R. (2017). Gels in the conservation of art. Preprints, International Academic Projects and Tate, 2017, London. London: Archetype.

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Suction table cleaning of a needlework sampler Appelbaum, B. (2007). Conservation treatment methodology. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Barker, K. (2002). Iron gall and the textile conservator. In V. Whelan (Ed.), Strengthening the bond: science and textiles, Preprints, NATCC, 2002, Philadelphia PA (pp. 7–13). Philadelphia: NATCC. Camp, A. & Cnossen, K. (2021–22). Mixing solutions; combining paper and textile approaches to treat ironmordanted printed cotton. Association of North American Graduate Programs in Conservation, 46th Annual Conference 2021. Available from: https://resources.culturalheritage.org/anagpic-student-papers/ anagpic-2021-student-papers-and-posters/ Castaneda, A. & O’Connor, C. (2019). Iron degradation in textiles: applying a paper conservation treatment to textiles. In A. Castaneda, N. Frankel, J. Urick, A. Barlow, G. Majors, L. Posada & M. Wilcox-Levine (Eds), Postprints, AIC TSG Vol. 29, 2019, Uncasville CT (pp. 65–82). Washington DC: AIC. Muñoz Viñas, S. (2005). Contemporary theory of conservation. Oxford: Elsevier. Neevel, J.G. (1999). The behavior of iron and sulfuric acid during iron-gall ink corrosion. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 1999, Lyon (pp. 528–533). London: James & James. Reissland, B. (2001). Ink corrosion: side-effects caused by aqueous treatments for paper objects. In Postprints, The Iron Gall Ink Meeting, 2000, Newcastle (pp. 109–124). Newcastle-upon-Tyne: University of Northumbria.

Notes * Published in 2010, revised in 2024 1 We, the authors, are conservators at the Textile Conservation Workshop, a collaborative team working in an American regional conservation laboratory in South Salem, New York. Founded in 1978 to provide comprehensive services for the preservation of textiles, the Workshop serves museums, historical societies, collectors, dealers and other private owners. 2 Until 1994, The Code of Ethics of the AIC contained a ‘single standard’ clause which read: ‘With every historic or artistic work he undertakes to conserve, regardless of his opinion of its value or quality, the conservator should adhere to the highest and most exacting standard of treatment. Although circumstances may limit the extent of treatment, the quality of treatment should never be governed by the quality or value of the object’ (AIC, 1994). 3 In the past, cleaning of historic textiles was considered compatible with the concept of reversibility, a bedrock tenet of conservation, as stated in the pre-1994 Code of Ethics: ‘The conservator is guided by and endeavors to apply the “principle of reversibility” in his treatments. He should avoid the use of materials which may become so intractable that their future removal could endanger the physical safety of the object. He should also avoid the use of techniques the results of which cannot be undone if that should become desirable’. After 1994, the revised Code replaces the notion of reversibility with a softer version which no longer mentions the word reversibility. It reads: ‘The conservation professional must strive to select methods and materials that, to the best of current knowledge, do not adversely affect cultural property or its future examination, scientific investigation, treatment or function’. Today we understand and accept that no cleaning techniques are truly reversible, yet we strive to make treatments as reversible as possible. 4 The felted structure of paper is dominated by capillarity along the individual fibres that are randomly arranged within the three dimensions of the paper sheet including its thickness. Outward wicking of cleaning liquids is great but can be exploited to the paper conservator’s advantage because capillarity can be extended into an adjacent blotter into which the stain can be drawn. Textile capillarity functions along the weave structure of the artefact and cannot easily be extended into the structure of an adjacent blotter. In fact, a blotter below the artefact is often a hindrance to stain removal as it cuts down on pressure. A thin textile, similar in weight and weave to the artefact, proves more successful. 5 A professional conference dedicated to iron gall ink corrosion on paper was held in the Smithsonian Museum Support Center in Suitland MD in 2001. Only a year later, the topic of iron gall on textiles was presented at the NATCC in Philadelphia (Barker, 2002). 6 With the introduction of a non-bleeding indicator test-strip, commercially marketed in the US by University Products after 2001, we have a qualitative test that is safe for artwork and can prove the presence of water-soluble iron (II) ions. This test has now been incorporated in our initial treatment reports at TCW and was used to prove without a doubt that soluble iron was indeed present in this sampler, concentrated in the areas of the ground fabric near the dark brown embroidery. Such easy access to chemical-level characterization of the object becomes a foundation for discussions about modified treatment choices.

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4.4 BACK FROM BLACK – CONTRASTING APPROACHES TO THE CLEANING AND CONSERVATION OF HISTORIC FIXED WALL HANGINGS AT KNOLE* Zenzie Tinker Introduction This paper outlines how conservation treatments can evolve over time due to discoveries made during the treatment and in response to factors beyond the conservator’s control. It focuses primarily on the differing approaches taken when cleaning two sets of fixed wall hangings at the National Trust (NT) property Knole; the vast caffoy wall hangings from the Cartoon Gallery and Reynolds Room forming one half of the discussion, whilst those from the tiny King’s Closet provide the contrasting treatment. Differences in their woven construction and the way the wall hangings were made were reasons for the cleaning methods chosen. The scale of the projects also required one set to be treated in situ whilst the other could be deinstalled. Both projects illustrate how vital it is to constantly review progress, particularly with large-scale, complex objects taking many years to complete. The building repair schedule and the NT’s desire to keep the property open throughout meant timescales were not in our control, so each project progressed both intermittently and concurrently over a five-year period. Careful management and focus were therefore necessary in leading the project and required great flexibility and commitment by the conservation team.

Background Knole, one of the largest stately homes in England and home to the Sackville family for more than four centuries, has been in the care of the NT since 1946. The failing historic structure of the building, outdated infrastructure and parlous state of the collections had long been a problem and required an ambitious refurbishment plan (Hill, 2016). Between 2013 and 2019 the NT, with the support of the Heritage Lottery Fund, undertook a lengthy £20 million conservation and renovation project, Inspired by Knole.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-33274

Cleaning and conservation of historic fixed wall hangings

Description and condition of the caffoy wall hangings The walls in both the Cartoon Gallery1 and Reynolds Room2 are lined with some 185m2 of crimson wool velvet known as caffoy3 dating from 1710 to 1720. This is at least the second set of textile wall hangings used in the Cartoon Gallery.4 The caffoy has a plain-weave foundation of linen with wool pile appearing on two levels caused by its stamped design, in this case a formal floral/foliate pattern. The 4.2m high hangings run around the three inner walls of both rooms, made from numerous seamed widths of the fabric hung from the cornice to the skirting board. The hangings are lined with a plain-weave linen that was hand-stitched around the perimeter of each wall piece prior to being hung. They were fixed to the wall via (original) closely spaced steel tacks along the upper and lower edges through a concealed hinge of linen tape. In both rooms, to avoid wastage the caffoy fabric was not used behind paintings; here just a layer of linen was attached directly to the wall (Figure 4.4.1). Structurally the caffoy and lining remained relatively strong, but there were still significant condition issues. The wall coverings were exhibiting very uneven tension caused both by their weight pulling downwards, creating bulging in the lower third, and because damp had caused differential shrinkage. These factors contributed to the wall hangings’ partial detachment from their tacks at both cornice and skirting levels and also caused horizontal splitting across bulging areas as the ground weave stiffened and cracked. The pile was abraded and worn away completely in key areas such as doorways, leaving it extremely brittle and weak with further splits and holes.

Figure 4.4.1 View of east wall of Cartoon Gallery, after conservation. Zenzie Tinker © National Trust. ­Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

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Most visually disturbing was the exceptional level of soil deposited on the surface of the pile; dark soot and grey dust had accumulated as well as numerous, only just perceptible, bleached orange mould speckles.

Initial treatment In late 2014 Zenzie Tinker Conservation (ZTC)5 was commissioned to come up with an in-situ treatment for the east wall caffoy of the Cartoon Gallery. An in-situ cleaning strategy was also required for the rest of the caffoy wall hangings at Knole, where their sheer size, weight, condition and ethical considerations made their removal impossible. The east wall hanging was one of the smallest panels but in the worst structural condition, having 56 caffoy mismatched patches applied over the main fabric. We surmised these had been added gradually over the years to hide newly exposed areas of linen as well as damage caused each time the picture hang was altered. The east wall had no Raphael cartoon hung upon it, so paintings were changed many times over the centuries6 and many of the resulting patches had fraying edges and were inadequately attached, giving an unkempt, distracting appearance to the wall in comparison with the rest of the room.

Cleaning tests Cleaning tests revealed soiling was predominantly located on the wool pile surface of the caffoy with more sooty ingrained soil at the top, whilst lower down the wall hangings there was more surface dust and fibre from visitors. Vacuumed test areas were noticeably cleaner, and the pattern became more distinct; a brush nozzle proved relatively successful at removing hairs and fibres, but many needed picking off with tweezers. Smoke sponge7 lifted the sooty soil quite well but the pile was vulnerable, and a compromise had to be found between reasonable dust removal versus risk of pile damage. After further tests to establish safe levels of suction and mechanical action, we settled on recommending surface vacuum cleaning combined with gentle use of smoke sponge.

The implications of exciting discoveries The cornice level fixings of the wall hangings were compromised, and we were concerned about further destabilizing vibration caused by cleaning in situ. Whilst investigating this to improve the existing hanging mechanism, we discovered an original early seventeenth-century decoration hidden behind the top edge of the wall hanging. This early polychrome frieze was thought visible above the previous ‘Hangings of blew printed Stuff’ mentioned in the 1706 inventory. This discovery created great curatorial excitement and prompted the request that we come up with a way of safely removing the entire wall hanging so that the NT could study the painting more fully. Thus, the conservation specification changed from an in-situ approach to the full removal and treatment of the east wall, still combined with in-situ treatments of the other caffoy wall hangings. The end of 2015 saw the removal of 22 of the least stable patches and then the wall hanging itself; concurrent removal of the original tacks from the upper and lower edges allowed the gradual rolling of the very large, heavy textile off the wall using a vertical roller. The NT then began the archaeology of the decorative scheme whilst the wall hanging was surface cleaned as a Conservation in Action8 project. This was undertaken by NT Conservation Assistants and volunteers using 276

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controlled vacuum suction and smoke sponge after training from our specialist team. Once removed, we replaced the original weak hanging mechanism with cotton herringbone tape, stitching it over the top of the original thus creating a stronger hinge to hang and re-tack through. Following more historical discoveries,9 the curatorial team asked us to devise a method for temporarily exposing the painted frieze around the entire upper walls of the Cartoon Gallery, adding time and more complexity to the treatment.10 However, the associated delay proved fortuitous, allowing the cleaning to evolve in a different and much improved direction. Cleaning the east wall caffoy had removed dust and some dark soiling, but it still looked dirty as the smoke sponge had been less successful at reducing the soil ingrained in the wool pile than we had hoped. Clearly, it needed to be solubilized, but we were anxious about wetting the linen ground structure or the linen lining. The use of alcohol or hydrocarbon solvent wipes, whilst promising in tests, was rejected as impractical on such a large scale from a health and safety perspective, particularly when considering the other larger wall hangings still needing to be treated in situ. In the meantime, the east wall panel had to be reinstated to keep up with the building schedule, so this was undertaken in Spring 2017.

A valuable collaboration While we were progressing with the east wall hanging, the NT Upholstery Conservator, Heather Porter, based at Knole, had begun researching ways of cleaning the matching caffoy upholstered furniture, and Textile Conservator Frances Hartog was researching piled carpet cleaning methods at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Collaboratively they were investigating the use of damp microfibre cloth on the surface of piled textiles. Porter and Hartog’s tests indicated that 80% polyester/20% polyamide microfibre cloth11 was most effective at picking up soil when used damp over a Ramer (PVA foam) sponge (Hartog & Porter, 2017).12 The author spent a day working with them and then began experimenting with the same microfibre cloth and Ramer sponge on the caffoy wall hangings. As with the upholstery, we found the soiled wool pile of the wall hangings responded well to this localized surface wet-cleaning method. As we needed to clean in situ, we began further refining the technique to avoid any danger of inadvertently wetting the ground weave or lining fabric which could not be accessed using the intermediary waterproof layers used by Porter. Using cotton towelling pads gave us the ideal drying component as with its capillary action it was excellent at absorbing the damp, loosened soil.

In-situ cleaning Based on our test results, we were given approval to proceed with in-situ wet cleaning of other walls, so work commenced vacuuming and surface wet cleaning the caffoy in the Cartoon Gallery during winter 2016–2017. Our team worked amongst the other contractors in building-site conditions that proved to be exceptionally challenging. We endured cold, dark conditions that were dusty and noisy but were spurred on by almost miraculous cleaning results. Out of the blackened caffoy emerged the beautiful two-toned, patterned crimson velvet, bright and lustrous once more.

Cleaning method The caffoy walls were divided into manageable timed sections which were vacuumed first. The surface pile was then carefully cleaned using microfibre wrapped around Ramer sponge to create a cleaning pad first lightly sprayed with softened water. This pad was alternated with dry pads of 277

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cotton towelling until each area of caffoy was clean and dry. Great care was taken to avoid damaging the pile of the velvet and to achieve an even result. As each section was completed, we had to step back and assess the evenness of the clean against the previous sections to ensure that our many hands were working as one. Then each night we had to cover everything with tissue and Tyvek to keep the constantly circulating building dust at bay. Never has a cleaning job been more challenging and more instantly gratifying (Figure 4.4.2). Over a three-year period working in tandem with the complex building programme and the demands of the property reopening rooms as we worked, we reinstated the east wall and cleaned the remaining five walls of the Cartoon Gallery and the Reynolds Room. Prior to working on each wall, we first stitched new hanging mechanism tape along the upper and lower edges of the wall hangings, replacing all the fixings with copper tacks, readjusting and tightening the hang of the loosened wall hangings as we went. Our team also undertook the stitched repair of splits and conserved gaps created by shrinkage, infilling with dyed linen.13 Comparing the reinstated (but only surface cleaned) east wall hanging with the rest of the Cartoon Gallery wall hangings after they had been microfibre-cleaned necessitated cleaning it again using the same process. Only then could the east wall be finished and the 22 patches reinstated. The cleaning of the caffoy wall hangings was transformative, as was the work undertaken by Porter on the matching suite of furniture. Once the rooms reopened to the public in 2018 it was then time to revisit our abandoned King’s Closet project, to complete it in time for the termination of the final phase of the Inspired by Knole project.

Figure 4.4.2 Detail to show extent of soiling with used microfibre and towelling pads in front. Zenzie Tinker © National Trust. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

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King’s Closet wall hangings In contrast to the vast 185m2 of caffoy wall hangings, one of the smallest rooms at Knole, the intimate King’s Closet, is hung with a mere 37.3m2 of initially uninspiring dark green wool. Closer examination revealed it to be a fascinating fabric of plain-weave wool with linen warp, stamped with an Amberly style pattern in two very similar designs, one thought to date from the 1680s and one from the 1720s.14 Originally vivid acid green in colour, stamped to look like damask, the dye has since altered to a dull dark green.15 Eighteen widths of the cloth were seamed together selvedge to selvedge to line the room, which also has a matching window pelmet (probably a later addition). The 2.6m high walls are covered in the fabric, ceiling to skirting board. Unlike the caffoy, the King’s Closet wall hangings were unlined and secured to roughly finished walls around the edges with the original steel tacks. These were hidden from view by almost 60m of the original striped gimp braid (woven in blue and graduating green wool with a central stripe of yellow silk)16 and a nineteenth-century tasselled wool trimming added over the top (Figure 4.4.3). The King’s Closet wall hangings were extremely compromised both structurally and visually, with some areas hanging in horizontal tatters, blackened by ingrained dust and mould. There were many splits where the weakened linen warp had snapped, numerous moth holes as well as torn areas around the rusted fixings. There was also loss of tension throughout caused by shrinkage as the fabric pulled away from the tacks. Wide gaps in the structure of the room had allowed much dust and damp to ingress, and, as with the crimson caffoy, the former extremely damp ambient conditions

Figure 4.4.3 The King’s Closet before conservation. Andreas von Einseidel © National Trust. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

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at Knole had taken their toll on these wall hangings. The original braid however was largely intact, possibly due to the protective nature of the later wool tasselled trimming placed on top.

Initial testing The decision by the NT to take down the King’s Closet wall coverings in 2013 was made early in the works schedule when the majority of large furnishing textiles including the caffoy were being protected and left in place. However, refurbishments of the rooms above the King’s Closet were dislodging debris, making it unsafe to leave the wall hangings in place. Their deeply soiled nature and weak structural condition suggested either solvent or aqueous immersion cleaning followed by stitched support, so there was no reason to delay removal. The disintegrating tasselled braid was removed first and archived followed by the original braid and then the wall hangings themselves; the same process as outlined for the east wall caffoy was used. Vacuum cleaning removed much deposited dust, but the stamped fabric remained visually disfigured and deeply ingrained with soil and old black mould.

Cleaning tests Initial aqueous cleaning tests in 2014 proved more effective than other solvents tried, so wet cleaning trials proceeded, achieving what was felt at the time to be satisfactory test results. However, due to the building works schedule our time was redirected onto cleaning the caffoy wall hangings, so the project was put on hold. It was not until four years later that we were able to resume work on these wall hangings, by which time our earlier test results seemed less satisfactory when compared with the now-cleaned caffoy hangings in the adjacent rooms. Unfortunately, the difference in the weave structure of the King’s Closet fabric as well as the deeply engrained nature of the soil meant that the same surface wet clean method used so successfully with the caffoy could not be applied here, but a bolder approach was certainly required. Full immersion cleaning still seemed to be the best option and testing resumed; there were a number of small fabric pieces from around the window and doorway which proved useful for trial wet cleans and comparison with earlier test results. This time we re-focused on adjusting the pH and length of time in the bath as well as our process methodology, but despite a seemingly improved wet clean the next trial piece still determinedly retained soil which was not released until final blotting. More testing followed comparing the use of deionized water and when to introduce it, the inclusion of a chelating agent, blotting during rather than after wet cleaning to remove more soil via capillary action, the use of vacuum suction through a protective silk screen, and the optimum length of each stage in the process including trialling overnight pre-soaking. Eventually, we formulated a wet-cleaning process that gave optimum results in terms of cleanliness whilst not over-cleaning or appearing to damage the fibres. The method was followed and carefully repeated for the eight batches of wet cleaning necessary to ensure evenness throughout the entire process. Despite a shorter wet clean generally being preferable, it emerged that the ingrained soil was only removable through a process that took an average of 12 hours from initial soak to final rinse. In the end, gentle almost continuous mechanical action undertaken through a soft nylon net proved key.

Cleaning Prior to wet cleaning, the wall coverings were divided into manageable sections of not more than three widths of fabric each, and templates were carefully made to ensure no dimensional changes. 280

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Weak, damaged areas were temporarily sandwiched and stitched into nylon net to prevent further loss, and all raw edges over-sewn. Following our tests, the surfactant Dehypon® LS 54 was chosen, prepared at a working strength of 1.3g/l + 0.05g/l carboxymethylcellulose as this performed best; warm ambient summer conditions and our relatively warm water suited the surfactant’s preferred working temperature of around 29°C. The inclusion of the chelating agent trisodium citrate (0.5g/l) proved essential in more effectively releasing the black soil and softened water (pH 6–6.5) and Ramer sponges were used throughout. Each wet-cleaning session involved two shifts of between three and five conservators, with the initial soak commencing at 7.00 am and final blocking out finishing at around 9.00 pm. The larger wall hanging panels had to be partially rolled in the bath, and it took four conservators to sponge the surfactant and two or three for each rinse. Four wash baths were undertaken; baths one and two at full working strength surfactant and baths three and four at half working strength to compensate for surfactant build-up. Baths two and three had a chelating agent added. Each wash bath was sponged from both sides of the textile, and with baths one and two, the bath was drained of dirty wash solution in between turns to reduce the risk of soil re-depositing. Rinses were predominantly running hose rinses used in combination with a wet/dry vacuum cleaner through a protective silk screen to pull out both released soil and surfactant. Some standing rinses proved useful particularly when combined with further gentle manipulation with a clean sponge to dislodge surfactant. The process culminated in a final soaking/running rinse, followed by blotting part way through to check all soil had fully released, and a

Figure 4.4.4 View of clean and soiled panel laid together. Zenzie Tinker © National Trust. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

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final blot to reduce water content prior to moving the textile onto the pinning out surface. Pinning out took two hours, aligning the weave and easing panels back into their original shape and size whilst cold air blowers aided air circulation. The template and wall hangings were pinned out over foam tiles17 that proved perfect for the purpose. The cleaning and blocking out process proved very successful, resulting in dramatically cleaner, brighter wall fabric with a far more defined design and, to our relief, no shrinkage (Figure 4.4.4).

Further treatment In contrast to the patch support of the caffoy, the King’s Closet wall hangings were fully supported onto custom-dyed linen with stitching. The original seam construction was replicated in the support, and a small amount of ease was added to allow for movement and the stretching that would be necessary when reinstating. Some very damaged areas that remained weak post-conservation had dyed nylon net overlays added after rehanging. The original braid was first spot solvent cleaned to remove paint stains and then wet cleaned whilst sandwiched in net. It was then given a full stitched support on dyed linen tape, and, as with the wall hangings, some weaker areas of the braid were also covered in dyed nylon net. Reinstalling the wall hangings,18 which had shrunk slightly prior to conservation due to the previous damp conditions at Knole, proved extremely difficult. We worked by gradually easing the supported wall coverings towards their final position using temporary staples applied through cotton tape as a holding device. When each was thus manoeuvred, the entire wall hanging seemed to finally slip into alignment and fit perfectly again. As with the caffoy, copper rather than the steel tacks used originally were utilized to re-secure the wall hangings, applied through narrow dyed linen tape to protect the conserved fabric and assist in any future removal process. The King’s Closet was one of the last textile projects to be completed in time for the final phase of reopening Knole to the public in 2019.19

Conclusion Running over five years, and collectively taking more than 3,000 hours of studio work and 222 conservator site workdays to complete, it is perhaps not surprising that such long involved projects can take different treatment paths to those originally anticipated. Whilst there were fundamental differences both in the type of weave structures and soiling found with these two sets of fixed wall hangings, as well as differences in the approaches taken with their cleaning and conservation, there were similarities too in the way both projects needed to be permitted to evolve naturally. Conservators by nature tend to plan and control their treatments, but being open enough to embrace an iterative approach can often benefit the treatment outcome. Sharing our collective experience and research findings, even if not fully formed, can be hugely beneficial. With long running complex projects in particular, pragmatism and a willingness to sometimes change our approach as treatments progress and as knowledge accumulates can be key. These projects illustrate that we should not be afraid to revisit decisions made at the outset if we want to achieve the seemingly impossible.

Acknowledgements Primarily, the author wants to thank and acknowledge the contribution of the entire ZTC team who worked on these projects both in situ at Knole and in the studio, namely Emily Austin, Kate

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Clive-Powell, Camilla Close-Brooks, Freya Gabutt, Ania Golebiowska, Mira Karttila, Geoffrey Major, Graham Marley, Rachel Rhodes, Jamie Robinson, Christobel Sambrook, Katy Smith and Natalia Zagorska-Thomas as well as our various students. Their combined skills and stoic enthusiasm whilst bringing their best work to the fore in such adverse site conditions were amazing. Thank you to Heather Porter and Frances Hartog for sharing their research. Thank you also to the NT, specifically Ksynia Marko, then Advisor for Textiles; Project Conservators Siobhan ­Barrett, Kate Berkenshaw, Martha Infray; Project Curators Emma Slocombe, Frances Paton; and the Knole team, who were a complete joy to work with.

References Daunt, C. (2016). A gallery of fame. The evidence for a Jacobean portrait frieze at Knole. In The National Trust historic houses and collection annual (pp. 28–33). London: Apollo & The National Trust. Hartog, F. & Porter, H. (2017). The powers of microfibre cloth. In S. Glenn & K. Smith (Eds), Postprints Icon TG forum, 2017 (pp. 41–48). London: Icon. Hill, F. (2006). Inspired by Knole. In The National Trust historic houses and collection annual (pp. 1–2). London: Apollo & The National Trust. Stoddart, O. & Alabone, G. (2022). Thomas Sackville’s Hall of Fame: displaced, reinvented and preserved at Knole. Notes and Records: The Royal Society Journal of the History of Science, 76(2), 253–272. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rsnr.2021.0044

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 The Cartoon Gallery has had various names, including the Cartoon Library (1799), the Matted Gallery (1687, 1706, 1765) and the Great Gallery (1817) referenced in various house inventories. The cartoons are 1624 copies of the original Raphael tapestry designs by Franz Cleyn, made for the Mortlake Tapestry Factory, and have hung at Knole since the early eighteenth century. 2 Also known as the Crimson Drawing Room. 3 National Trust Inventory numbers: 131075.1, 2&3 and 131076.1,2&3. 4 ‘Hangings of Crimson caffoy’ are listed in the Matted Gallery in the 1730 inventory, but ‘Hangings of blew printed Stuff’ are listed as being in place in the 1706 inventory. 5 Zenzie Tinker established her conservation business in 2003. 6 Interestingly, there seemed to be evidence suggesting that the caffoy hanging on this wall had originally been prepared to receive something the size of a painted cartoon, but that perhaps once framed it had then not fitted and had been used elsewhere in the room. 7 Smoke sponge is a vulcanized natural rubber dry cleaning sponge. 8 Conservation in Action is the NT term for undertaking conservation in front of the visitors as an educative and public relations exercise. 9 It was discovered that the painted decorative scheme had originally formed ‘frames’ around the early seventeenth-century Kings and Queens panel portraits now hanging elsewhere at Knole (Daunt, 20: 32). Analysis of fixing holes on the east wall cornice and the backs of the portraits was pointing towards establishing their exact hang around the entire gallery (Stoddart & Alabone, 2022: 258). 10 Scaffolding was erected to give a working platform on which a large padded, curved work surface was created. The wall hangings were first secured to the wall c.1.5m down from cornice level via padded battens. It was then safe to release the top edge of the wall hanging in its entirety without it slipping down the wall by bringing it forwards to rest on the work surface, thus exposing the painted frieze for study. From the scaffold we replaced all the weak hanging tape with new and surface cleaned thoroughly prior to reattaching to the wall with new copper tacks. 11 Paragon microfibre. Premium General Purpose Microfibre 0.13 denier, blue if bought by the metre. 12 Hartog and Porter’s paper (2017) explains the rationale behind microfibre cleaning and refers to using Ramer sponge.

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Zenzie Tinker 13 The cleaning and conservation of the caffoy wall hangings took a total of 182 conservator days in situ and 568 hours work in the studio over a three-year period. 14 NT internal memo, by Anne van den Berg, quoting textile expert Guy Evans advising on the King’s Closet wall coverings, 6 January 1999. Curiously these fabrics appear to be two versions of the same design, possibly the later one copying the earlier to provide enough fabric to use as wall hangings in this room. 15 No dye analysis was undertaken for financial reasons. 16 Finding and conserving the hidden original gimp braid proved influential in the curatorial direction taken with the redisplay of the room. 17 SoftTiles.com (10mm thick × 520mm2), soft interlocking medium density EVA. 18 The wall hangings were reattached over a wall lining of black Klober™ membrane selected by the NT. Klober™ membrane is a semi-permeable moisture barrier layer designed to insulate walls. 19 The conservation of the King’s Closet wall hangings took a total of 2,434 hours studio work and 40 conservator days in situ to complete.

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4.5 NEW CONSERVATION PRACTICES FOR A NINETEENTH-CENTURY CHENILLE CARPET AT THE NATIONAL TRUST TEXTILE CONSERVATION STUDIO* Aimée Grice-Venour Introduction This case study details the remedial conservation of a chenille carpet from Cragside, a Victorian country house that is part of the National Trust. It also includes information about chenille carpet production, a double-weave construction. Conservation of a carpet of this size, weight, and weave complexity was unprecedented within the National Trust Textile Conservation Studio. Because of this, new practices, treatments, and professional relationships were developed throughout the process in response to the project’s demands. The treatment included mechanical and aqueous cleaning, adhesive patch removal, and stitch stabilization. The display and future care of the carpet are also discussed. The care and conservation of historic carpets present many challenges to the conservator. Within historic houses which are open to the visiting public, carpets are often an intrinsic part of a room’s lavish textile display, and yet they are ‘underfoot and overlooked’ (Tetley, 2012a). Carpets can be exceptionally large and heavy and can require ingenuity to handle and conserve. Often the removal of the carpet from its setting means emptying the room of its contents, after which transporting, cleaning, stabilizing, conserving, and returning the carpet can be undertaken.

Background The National Trust’s Textile Conservation Studio (the Studio) is situated in Norfolk. Originally established in 1976 by Pamela Clabburn, the Studio has a team of professional textile conservators who care for a wide variety of textiles in National Trust collections. As part of the continuing preservation of National Trust collections, the Cragside chenille carpet was selected for treatment. It holds significance both as an important part of the property’s original collection and as an object of technological and manufacturing rarity. Cragside was home

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Figure 4.5.1 An overview of the chenille carpet after conservation, in situ in the Dining Room at Cragside, Northumberland. The use of a digitally produced Eyemat® as a drugget can be seen on the right of the carpet. © National Trust Images/Paul Harris. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

to William George Armstrong (1810–1900), a successful industrialist, scientist, and technical innovator (National Trust, 2007). The carpet was made to fit the dining room (6 × 9m) and dates to the 1870s. It is attributed to James Templeton & Co. in Glasgow.1 It could be one of the last few hand-woven chenille examples to be produced by Templeton before the production process became fully mechanized on power looms in 1884 (Sherrill, 1996: 228–232). By the mid twentieth century, the production of chenille carpets had ceased. As there are only 12 examples recorded on the National Trust collections database, it was decided that the technological and manufacturing importance of this carpet elevated the need for conservation.

Construction The carpet is of a rich and subtle design of foliage in a repeat palmette design delineated with brown wool set against a background of different shades of pink. Woven to fit the specific shape of the room, the design includes a border of lime green ground and individual palmettes of pink flowers (Figure 4.5.1). The woven structure for chenille is extremely specific with the production process being undertaken in two stages (Cole, 1924). First a cloth was woven on a loom, consisting of cotton warps and the required palate of coloured woollen wefts. This cloth was cut along the warp into fur-like chenille strips which resembled caterpillars (chenille is the French word for a caterpillar), which would later form the pile of the carpet. The loose edges of the wool weft of the chenille were folded together and heat-set to produce a double pile, projected upwards from the firmly woven centre or back (Figure 4.5.2). Second, the base of the carpet was formed when the chenille strips (each specifically related to a carpet’s individual design) were woven in a setting loom (Cleaver, 2021). The construction of the Cragside carpet consists of a wool main warp and weft foundation, the weft being offset, with one row sitting below the other and separated by a supplementary warp of jute (a ‘stuffer’ yarn). This adds body and thickness to the carpet and protects the chenille on the reverse. The chenille wefts form the face pile and are woven into the foundation of the carpet with a cotton supplementary warp (a ‘catcher’ warp).

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Figure 4.5.2 Chenille weave and construction diagrams: a) chenille strips are cut from a plain weave cloth of cotton warps with coloured woollen wefts; b) chenille strips are heated around a metal rod to form a ‘U’ shape; c) the carpet is manufactured by weaving the chenille strips as supplementary wefts onto a complex base weave. © National Trust/Aimée Grice-Venour.

Deterioration The carpet design is delineated with brown wool, which contributed to the carpet’s deterioration. The brown wool oxidized due to tannins and iron mordant used in the dyeing process. A breakdown of the fibres of the brown wool has revealed the lighter-coloured supplementary cotton catcher warps. With over 150 years’ use and wear, significant losses to the structure and design of the carpet have occurred. Areas of mechanical wear due to footfall were particularly visible between the dining room door, window, and around the centrally placed table. A condition survey (February 2013) noted areas of wear and loss, and a decrease in pile height. The wool warp, weft, and cotton catcher warps were exposed in areas, which led to exposure and breakages in the jute stuffer yarns. Repairs of varying ages could be seen on both the back and face of the carpet. Environmental impacts – sunlight damage, pest attacks, and historical water damage – were evident throughout.

Conservation aim Prior to the conservation treatment, staff and volunteers walked on the carpet directly and visitors walked on druggets placed on the upper surface of the carpet. Underlay cloths were placed both

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under the carpet and druggets. The overall aim of the treatment was to make the carpet stable enough for continued open display in its original historic house setting. Since the client was keen to keep some of the historical repairs, these were assessed on a case-by-case basis; those that were unstable or disfiguring were removed and the area conserved. Our aim was to bring a balance between the conflicting requirements of public access and the long-term preservation of the carpet through preventive conservation.

Challenges and considerations From the outset it was clear that the dimensions, weight, and construction of the carpet would enforce limitations on what would be possible. The carpet required a team of people to assist in its movement; at any given time, as many as six to ten people were needed to lift and roll the carpet due to its weight. It was never possible to view the carpet in its entirety during the treatment, its size preventing it being fully unrolled in the Studio. As human resources were limited, equipment used to handle the carpet had to be effective, simple in design, and low cost.

Treatment and decision-making Surface cleaning in situ – dry soil removal In 2014, a week of on-site work was undertaken to carry out initial surface cleaning to prepare the carpet for transportation to the Studio. Firstly, the druggets and drugget underlay on the visitor route were lifted, revealing a lot of lint on the carpet. The carpet was sectioned into a one metre square grid; a soft rubber grooming brush (a pet hair removal tool) was used to manipulate the surface pile to remove the lint fibres, using short strokes in the direction of the pile. Next, the entire carpet was systematically vacuumed for a total of 13 hours and 20 minutes whilst in situ. The carpet was then rolled within the dining room. The roller could be no wider than the carpet due to the limitations imposed by the dimensions of the room. A team of 10 staff rolled and packaged the carpet for transportation. On arrival at the Studio, Blickling Hall’s countryside team helped unload and position the carpet in the Studio.

Cleaning at the Studio The main challenge in wet cleaning the carpet was to identify the most effective methods and equipment whilst preventing further damage, particularly to the jute stuffer yarns within the weave which were brittle and sensitive to moisture. As a result, a working relationship was developed between the Studio staff, Glyn Charnock (commercial carpet cleaner and former Training Director of the National Carpet Cleaners Association), and Ksynia Marko (textile and carpet conservator and former Manager of the National Trust Textile Conservation Studio). Studio staff and collaborators undertook preliminary practical investigations; ideas were exchanged on the products, methods, and equipment that would be appropriate for cleaning the carpet. Although the carpet had been meticulously vacuumed on site, there remained gritty deposits deep within the pile. As gritty dirt can wear away at the structure of the carpet, additional mechanical cleaning was undertaken. Carpets are sometimes vacuumed whilst being rolled around a roller or tuber. Back-beating or ‘tamping’ the carpet with latex paddles is also another way to release gritty deposits from carpets. This carpet was unsuited for rolling whilst vacuuming due to the brittle jute yarns, and the 288

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limitations imposed by its size and weight. A ‘mechanical tamping’ method was developed using a rotary beater bar vacuum cleaner and a piece of modern carpet as padding: 1. The chenille carpet was placed face down on the Studio’s vinyl floor. 2. A piece of modern carpet was placed face-up on the reverse of the carpet. 3. The modern carpet was agitated to produce a vibration using a Sebo™ BS36 twin motor vacuum cleaner with beater bar. This prevented direct contact between the Sebo™ vacuum and the chenille carpet. 4. The reverse of the chenille carpet was cleaned using Nilfisk™ UZ964 vacuums with soft brush tools at 90mb suction. This was the first time that cleaning to the reverse surface of the carpet could be thoroughly undertaken. 5. The soiling released onto the floor from the carpet’s pile during agitation was then swept away whilst the carpet was being rolled. 6. Finally, the face of the carpet was again vacuumed. The quantity of dry soil removed by this process was disappointing, but it was deemed partially effective. Limitations of viewing the carpet whilst in situ meant it was not possible to fully assess the condition of the reverse until the mechanical tamping treatment. Numerous webbing clothes moth cases were found across the entire reverse. These had to be removed by hand and the reverse re-vacuumed.

Wet cleaning Traditional conservation techniques of immersive wet cleaning could not be undertaken due to the fragility of the jute yarns (Tetley, 2012b). Working collaboratively with Charnock, practical cleaning processes were developed by the Studio using commercially available equipment adapted for historic carpets. Conservation requirements and the environment were key considerations. After initial testing for efficacy and dye stability, a solution of 0.3% Dehypon® LS 45 (low foaming, non-ionic surfactant) and 0.05% SCMC (sodium carboxymethyl cellulose, used to prevent dirt re-deposition during wet cleaning) was prepared using deionized water. The carpet, laid face up directly on the Studio floor, was gridded out and cleaned section by section. Wet-cleaning process: 1. The cleaning solution was sprayed on with a handheld pressurized pump bottle. Areas with reduced pile depth or missing pile received less solution to prevent over-wetting. 2. The cleaning solution was applied using short strokes with a soft polypropylene pile brush. Deep-piled areas in stable condition were agitated both with and against the direction of pile, but worn areas only in the direction of the pile. Areas with no remaining pile or loose chenille weft and catcher warps were agitated through a fine polypropylene net screen. 3. The cleaning solution was allowed dwell time before being rinsed and extracted with a ­Sapphire Scientific™ Upholstery Pro hand tool. Jets of rinse water (7.8 pH and a maximum temperature of 22°C) passed over the pile before being extracted by vacuum action. Each wet pass to an area was followed by two to three dry passes, using vacuum only. An average of 1.5 litres of rinse water was used per square metre; rinse volumes were reduced in areas with low or missing pile to prevent excessive wetting of the foundation yarns. Approximately 90% of the total volume applied was recovered with this process. 289

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4. For drying, the Studio’s underfloor heating was set to approximately 20–22°C and the carpet was blotted using pieces of white cotton towel. A small fan with high velocity airflow was used to circulate air horizontally across the surface of the damp carpet. The entire surface of the carpet was cleaned twice over two days, with complete drying after the first cleaning. Informed by the positive results of the first cleaning, the decision was taken to treat the carpet for a second time to achieve a more thorough clean. The wet cleaning of the carpet resulted in the removal of a significant amount of potentially damaging soiling. The carpet improved visually and no longer had a harsh, gritty hand to the pile. An expected amount of degraded fibre from the pile was removed during the cleaning process, but no additional damage was caused. Once fully dry, a vacuum cleaning test was performed. This showed that considerable amounts of loose dry soil remained in the carpet, with more soil removed than in the initial in-situ vacuum. As a result, a final vacuum was undertaken to remove any further soiling that had been released.

Adhesive removal During a historic treatment, hessian tapes had been adhered in areas across the reverse with shellac and latex adhesives. These provided support where repairs had been worked from the front through to the reverse and where the weave had begun to fail due to moth attack. The adhesives, now hard and brittle, were failing and needed removal prior to conservation stitching. Extensive tests using different solvents, solvent mixes, and poultices were undertaken. The shellac adhesive was finally removed mechanically by applying pressure with hand tools followed by vacuuming. The latex was softened using white spirit (mineral spirit) applied with a brush but was difficult to remove from the textured weave. Using a dental tool, softened adhesive was methodically lifted from the carpet. Not all the residual adhesives could be removed, but the surface was no longer sticky and conservation stitching was possible. Unfortunately, after the adhesive patches were removed areas of damaged or lost brown woollen wefts were more evident.

Consolidation of reverse Laid couching stitches with polyester thread were used to stabilize and consolidate the reverse of the carpet. The laid stitches were parallel to the existing wefts, with holding stitches catching both the newly laid thread and the original broken weft. These repairs were worked into the carpet structure only. Where both the warps and weft of the weave construction were damaged, the resulting holes were infilled from the reverse with synthetic-dyed linen. These patches were stitched in place to provide a support for conservation stitching which could later be worked through from the front. The entire outer edge of the carpet was reinforced with a wide brown linen webbing tape applied flush to the edge.

Yarns and dyeing In the search for an appropriate infill yarn, many different wools were considered for desired properties of texture, strength, appearance, durability, and dye take-up. Bluefaced Leicester yarn was eventually chosen. All yarns for the conservation of the carpet were purpose-dyed using Lanaset® dyes to match the many varying colours and shades of the chenille. In all, 129 samples and 65 final colours and shades of wool were dyed.

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Figure 4.5.3 Conservation infill and stitching on the Cragside carpet was used to reintroduce elements of the design. Large areas of damage and loss (above) were stitched with channelled and laid coloured wool yarns which were secured with polyester thread stitched through the existing woollen weft and over the new coloured yarns (below). © National Trust/Aimée Grice-Venour. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

Infill and stitching of front With work to the reverse complete, the carpet was rolled onto a large (170mm) diameter pipe and set up over tables, allowing conservation stitching to begin on the front. The carpet was divided into 45 sections, each 200mm deep by the width of the carpet. The extent of the damage and wear to the carpet’s surface varied. At its worst, the loss of chenille strands was extensive, revealing large areas of the untidy brown sub-weave with light coloured cotton threads lying loose over the surface. Many different conservation techniques were considered, including the production and introduction of replacement chenille strands, though this was deemed too time-consuming and costly. The final techniques chosen and developed at the Studio for this project were combined to conserve the carpet and provide aesthetic infill to areas of loss, imitating the missing design as much as possible. To reintroduce elements of the design, coloured wool yarns were laid across areas of loss and channelled into the stronger surrounding area of the weave structure. Using a curved needle, a neutral-coloured polyester thread was passed under the original brown woollen weft and stitched over the coloured yarn (Figure 4.5.3). Spaced at 8mm intervals, this stitching followed the original weave of the carpet, imitating the light-coloured cotton catcher warp. In areas where the pile was worn, there was still a risk of the original cotton catchers failing; therefore, the same catcher stitch in polyester thread was used at 16mm intervals (every other weaving line). In some areas, the pile of the carpet had been completely lost and the foundation weave of brown woollen wefts had been worn away, exposing the jute stuffer warps sandwiched within the complex weave of the carpet. Worn and missing jute stuffer warps were replaced with new jute yarn and the damaged woollen wefts replaced with new brown-dyed wool yarn.

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Historic repairs Whilst working on the carpet, two deliberately cut holes were found matching the location of original underfloor electrical cables in the room, which were used to allow cables to pass through the carpet to lamps on the central table. Both holes had been previously patched. The larger hole had been repaired with a hessian patch applied to the reverse of the carpet, with pink woollen tufts worked through it to re-create the design. This patch was easily removed to reveal a circular hole which had been neatly bound with a narrow, rust-coloured webbing tape. The smaller hole had been heavily stitched with the addition of thick adhesive applied to the reverse. It would have been detrimental to have attempted to undo this repair and so it was left in place. At the time of conservation, the original historic electrical scheme within the dining room was being researched in the hope that it could be reinstated. To date, the installation of the table lighting has not gone ahead. It remains a long-term future ambition of the property.

Development of equipment Equipment used during the conservation treatment had to be effective but simple in design and low cost. The chosen working setup involved one roller carrying the carpet, set behind a table and a second roller situated in front. The carpet was brought across the surface of the table face-up (Figure 4.5.4). The table had central T-shaped legs so the rollers could be tucked beneath the tabletop on both sides to accommodate the conservator’s knees. The table was six metres long to accommodate the width of the carpet. Two custom-made, thick core cardboard rollers measuring seven metres long were purchased, since standard rollers do not exceed six metres. In addition, two narrower-gauge aluminium beams were custom made to carry these cardboard rollers, allowing them to be rotated more easily. Due to its weight and size, the carpet tended to rotate and slump on the roller during handling, resulting in a loss of tension. Fabric aprons were attached to the carpet using herringbone stitch, which in turn were secured with Velcro® to the rollers to control the tension during rolling. To make rolling to the next sections easier, the rollers and carpet needed to be lifted off the surface of the table. Four Sealey™ motorcycle scissor jacks were modified by strapping a wooden tapestry

Figure 4.5.4 Carpet set face up over a long table with two rollers. Both rollers are supported on aluminium beams, which in turn are carried on wooden tapestry blocks secured on top of four Sealey™ motorcycle scissor jacks positioned at each corner. © National Trust/Aimée Grice-Venour. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

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block to the top of each to support the aluminium beams. Simple wooden levers on straps were added to help rotate the rollers on the beams.

Return to display As Tetley wrote in 2012, ‘the process of conserving a historic carpet doesn’t end once it has been re-laid; deciding how best to protect and care for it thereafter is very much part of the process’ (­Tetley, 2012b). The conservation techniques adopted for the treatment of this carpet had to be very robust to withstand display in a high traffic area. A new drugget was created and placed in the area accessed by visitors. A floor mat from Eyemats Ltd. was printed with the carpet design to maintain visual integrity in the room. The photography for the Eyemat® was undertaken after the carpet was conserved and back in situ. A polyfelt underlay was placed between the floor and carpet, and a thin layer of polyfelt placed between the Eyemat® and the carpet. The following recommendations were made for the ongoing conservation care of the carpet: • Once a year, vacuum samples should be taken from four different metre-square areas to identify the effect of visitor numbers on dust levels and dirt accumulations. Results should be used to inform future actions. Routine maintenance may be restricted to annual surface cleaning or, preferably, less frequently. Those areas closest to the visitor route are more likely to require annual cleaning. • Some areas are very vulnerable, even where conservation stitching has been carried out. All weak areas are to be vacuumed through a tensioned net screen. • The exposed carpet should have no unnecessary foot traffic. Guides are encouraged to remain in front of the stanchion on the Eyemat®. • No outdoor shoes should be worn on the carpet. A soft shoe/slippers policy should be in place. • Monitor for pests, especially around the periphery of the carpet, under large items of furniture, and where the curtains touch the carpet. Moth activity should be closely monitored.

Project evaluation The full conservation treatment of the Cragside carpet took 15 months to complete, or 2,905 conservation hours. The project exceeded the original estimated hours for two reasons: not being able to see the true condition of the carpet in situ, especially the reverse; and underestimating how difficult it would be to undertake conservation stitching to the carpet. The cleaning methods developed during this project have proven so successful that they have gone on to be used on carpets at Felbrigg Hall and Saltram. We now know that large carpets do not have to be moved out of the property in order to be wet cleaned, meaning less handling and disruption to collections within room settings. The method of mechanical tamping developed within this project is now a practice promoted through a course hosted by The Institute of Conservation.2 Sampling and cleaning of the carpet as described in the conservation care plan has been undertaken within the property every two to three years, the timescale informed by both the results of the annual vacuum tests and the capacity of the property’s conservation team. The conservation care plan appears to have provided a sustainable maintenance programme. Since the carpet’s return to Cragside, its condition has been maintained with no signs of deterioration. Pest monitoring has revealed no ongoing issues. The use of an Eyemat® as a drugget with protective polyfelt layers has been very successful. The carpet beneath appears protected and the Eyemat® is holding up to the test of time and footfall, with no noticeable damage. The Eyemat® was cleaned in January 2021, ensuring the aesthetic of the room. 293

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Conclusion This case study has explained the treatment of one specific chenille carpet and how it brought its own set of challenges and considerations, the solutions to which produced new practices and treatments. It has touched on the professional relationships formed, and the equipment developed to undertake the conservation treatment. Since this project, the care of historic carpets within the National Trust has come to the forefront. Longer property opening hours, greater visitor numbers, and more extensive visitor access within showrooms necessitate that carpets be given far greater consideration then they might have previously received. This project, and subsequent projects undertaken at Felbrigg Hall and Saltram, have allowed greater consideration to be given to carpet conservation treatment. If a property is unable to accommodate wet cleaning in situ, we are now able to undertake wet cleaning within the Studio using the methods and equipment developed. The body of knowledge and experience gained from this initial project continues to be built upon, with every subsequent specialist collaboration and carpet conservation project undertaken.

References Cleaver, J. (2021). The interrelationship of carpet weaving technologies and design in the work of James Templeton and Company, Glasgow, carpet manufacturer, 1890–1939. Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Glasgow. Cole, A.H. (1924). The Chenille Axminster carpet manufacture. The Quarterly Journal of Economics, 39(1), 136–144. National Trust (2007). Cragside guide book. Swindon: National Trust. Sherrill, S.B. (1996). Carpets and rugs of Europe and America. New York: Abbeville Press. Tetley, H. (2012a). Underfoot and overlooked: conservation treatment of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century British carpets in historic houses. The Decorative: Conservation and the Applied Arts. Contributions to the Vienna Congress, September 2012. London: IIC. Tetley, H. (2012b). 18th-century British floor coverings. The Building Conservation Directory. Available from: https://buildingconservation.com/articles/floor-coverings/floor-coverings.htmhttps://

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 See Records of James Templeton & Co Ltd, carpet manufacturers, Glasgow, Scotland, 1802–1998. University of Glasgow Archive Services. Available from: https://archiveshub.jisc.ac.uk/search/ archives/9776d156–1921–3deb-a831–5c7c3d06caab 2 Icon Textile Group: Back to Basics – care of historic carpets, rugs and woven textile floor coverings. An approach to the structure, care and maintenance of historic carpets. July 2022.

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4.6 THE CONSERVATION OF FOUR 1760S CHAIRS* Revealing and reinstating original upholstery features during in-situ treatment Kathryn (Kate) Gill Introduction Historic chair frames with their original upholstery under-structures are quite rare, but rarer still is the survival of original top covers and trimmings. One exceptional example is a magnificent suite of seat furniture commissioned by Paul Methuen for his Corsham House residence in Wiltshire, UK. The majority of this suite remains on display at Corsham Court in the Picture Gallery, for which it was originally commissioned. The suite was probably supplied by George Cole of Golden Square, London c.1763–1774. The silk damask was supplied for furniture and walls between 1765 and 1769 by Morris and Young (Beard, 1997). The suite now comprises 30 open armchairs, two pairs of settees, three pairs of window seats and a winged armchair. The mahogany frames are upholstered with red silk damask top covers. The top cover seams are welted with a red wool and silk narrow-woven tape. Both the back and the seat upholstery are lightly tufted. The outer backs are covered in a red wool 3/1 twill weave with a napped finish. The front and each side of the seats have a double row of dome-headed brass nails. The under-upholstery comprises an open lattice webbing layer and a base cloth layer (both layers are of bast fibres, possibly flax and hemp) which support a loose filling of curled animal hair encased in linen(?) cloth. The encased hair is shaped with stitches of flax(?) twine. All underupholstery layers are fixed to the main frame of the furniture with hand-wrought iron tacks and further secured with single and double rows of dome-headed brass nails (Figure 4.6.1). The furniture is no longer used as seat furniture. In 2005 the condition of the upholstered element of the suite was assessed by the author.1 It was evident that many of the damask top covers had been repaired with patches of fabric, some of matching silk damask taken from the walls behind the paintings in the Picture Gallery at Corsham. The patches had been secured to the top covers and the under-upholstery layers with a combination of adhesive and stitching techniques. The patched damask top covers were largely covered in orange-red net. The patches and net covering had protected the top covers, testifying to the good in-house care that the suite had received over many decades. A large proportion of the original

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DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-35

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Figure 4.6.1 Three-quarter front view of one of the armchairs after conservation treatment. Image reproduced by kind permission of Corsham Court, Bristol Museums, Galleries and Archives and the Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow (TCC 2929).

covers and trimmings, as well as original stitching seams and structural elements of the underupholstery, remained intact, although largely concealed by the repair work. The condition assessment confirmed that some of the repair work was starting to damage the silk damask. Sixteen of the most fragile upholstered chairs were prioritized for conservation treatment, and the author undertook the conservation of the upholstered elements of a number of armchairs from the suite. This chapter discusses the aims of treatment and factors considered before and during treatment in order to assess the conservation needs of the suite and to determine the conservation techniques that would most effectively preserve, stabilize and re-establish the subtle original features of the upholstery and the upholstery profiles.

Condition of the upholstery Detailed condition assessment of the upholstery elements was restricted by the net overlays and patches, which largely concealed the red damask. However, it was possible to see that the condition of the red damask ranged from good to extremely fragile, and in some areas it had been completely worn away exposing the linen under-upholstery layers. The deterioration was largely due to two factors: first, the natural degradation processes which had rendered the damask more fragile than it was when the repair patches were first applied; second, some of the repair work itself was causing damage. For example, the tackiness of the exposed sections of the degrading adhesive patches meant these areas had become ingrained with soils and stains. The relatively sharp edges of the stiffened adhesive-impregnated patches had cut through the weakened fibres of the red damask. The original upholstery under-structures appeared to be in remarkably good condition overall. The seat webbing on some had failed and had been replaced or reinforced with a brown and white reverse twill webbing, probably of nineteenth-century date. Fortunately, this replacement webbing had been attached without removing or disturbing other layers of the original seat structure. 296

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However, a number of the tacks holding the replacement webbing had become detached from one frame.2 As a result it had lost any tension it may have had when first applied, resulting in a sagging seat, which if left unsupported would probably result in further collapse of the upholstery.

Treatment and decision-making process The overall aim of treatment was to make the chairs safe for continued open display in their original historic house setting. One of the main aims of the upholstery conservation treatment was to protect any original (and/or historically significant) materials still on the frame. Since original upholstery is quite rare, it was considered a priority to keep original materials with the frames wherever possible so that these important primary sources of material evidence were subject to minimal disruption. Consequently, it was decided that treatment would be carried out in situ3 on each chair. This approach was extended to the sagging seat of one chair, where a ‘non-interventive’ seat support was proposed. Many factors needed to be considered including: what elements should be removed and on what grounds; how should the revealed evidence be interpreted; with what should the removed elements be replaced; how well would the replacement elements visually integrate with the original damask; and how would the replacement elements be attached. How could all of this be achieved without removing any element of the original upholstery, including stitches, from the frame? As is often the case with many multi-layered, three-dimensional objects with concealed inner structures requiring conservation, a phased approach to treatment was implemented. It was recognized that assessment of condition of revealed components and the interpretation of their significance would inform the subsequent treatment phases.

Phase one – permanent removal of the net overlay Working in close collaboration with Bristol Museums’ curator, 4 it was decided that all existing net overlays would be removed. They were no longer providing protection or support, and they were causing abrasion to the original damask and concealing original features.

Shallow tufting As anticipated, removal of the net covering revealed several well-preserved original features. Of particular note was evidence of shallow tufting, beautifully welted seams and examples of the red silk damask top covers before and after fading. Shallow tufting, a series of spaced, individual stitches passing from the rear/underside webbing and base cloth layers, through both the hair filling and the front/upper filling cover, would be expected in chairs of this type and date. Upon initial examination, the extent of the shallow tufting was not fully evident since large damask repair patches, applied across some seats and backs, concealed any evidence of the indentations. In other cases, the original thread drawing the original silk damask cover onto the surface of some of the indented areas no longer existed, causing the damask to lift away from the indentation. Closer examination of the original silk damask cover revealed two stitch holes as evidence that the damask was once stitched to the indentation. This evidence was backed up by the presence of stitched indentations in the upholstery under-structure located directly behind the stitch holes, revealed by gently feeling for the contours of the inner back under-structure through the red damask. In addition, further examination of images of all remaining chairs in the suite suggested that originally each chair back and seat had eight tufts positioned symmetrically, as illustrated in 297

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Figure 4.6.2 Line drawing of one of the armchairs to show the location of the shallow tufting. Image by Kathryn Gill.

Figure 4.6.2. All 16 indentations have survived in the under-structure upholstery of eight chairs examined in more detail. No evidence has survived to suggest that the shallow tufted sections of the Corsham chairs were ever embellished with decorative tufts or buttons.

Welted seams The welted seams located around the perimeter of the seat and the inner back upholstery were also fully revealed following removal of the net (Figure 4.6.3 left and centre). They appeared largely intact and for the most part structurally sound. The welted edge comprised a narrow figured-weave tape of silk and wool, folded in half lengthwise over a fine cord and hand-stitched into the damask seam with an unbleached thread. The thread and the fine cord were probably of flax.5 The seam allowance had been positioned to the side edges, rather than the top face of the under-upholstery, making the line of the tape-covered cord very firm, straight and quite pronounced as shown in Figure 4.6.3 centre. Along with the single and double rows of close nailing, the welted edges are an important feature in accentuating the straight lines of the flat square-edged upholstery profile. The edges were surprisingly well preserved with the exception of sections of the top edge of the chair backs and the front edge of the seats, where repair stitching had concealed the welting. A decision was made to remove the repair stitching in these areas as it was causing damage to the welted edge as well as distorting the line of upholstery. A conservation treatment was required that would not reduce the impact of these two important features of the upholstery.

Phase two – permanent removal of damaging patch repairs The full extent and nature of the later repair work was revealed once net was removed. Repairs included red damask, some orange damask and many plain weave orange in-fill patches (the latter two fabrics were originally red, but are now faded to orange), attached to the reverse side and in 298

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some cases to the top face of the red damask with adhesive-coated white net. Some of the orange plain weave patches and white net repairs were causing damage to the red damask that they had protected for many years (Figure 4.6.3 centre). Where possible, they were permanently removed. None of the damask patches were removed as they were not causing damage to the original elements and, having been sourced from the walls of the Picture Gallery (unlike the orange patches), were considered to be a historically significant element of the suite (Marko, 1997). Once the damaging patches were removed, a more detailed condition assessment could be made. It was apparent that more of the original top cover damask had survived than had been originally thought; however, some areas were weaker than expected. In contrast, the welted seams were more stable than anticipated and suffered less loss than estimated. Furthermore, fewer areas of exposed linen were revealed than predicted.

Phase three – preserving and stabilizing the original upholstery and its profile This phase of treatment raised another set of questions. What materials and methods should be used to support the weak areas of damask? How well would the replacement elements visually integrate with the original damask? How would original and replacement elements be stabilized on the frame? How could all of this be achieved without removing any element of the original upholstery, including stitches, from the frame? To what extent would solutions found for one chair be applicable to others awaiting treatment?

The integration of old and new materials – compensating for loss The owner of the house and Bristol Museum’s curator (henceforth referred to as ‘the custodians’) had requested that the areas of loss in the red silk damask be camouflaged with patches in order that the exposed linen upholstery layers would be concealed. Interpretation of objects on display can be influenced by a number of factors, including role of object, its historical and social context, including the context in which it is displayed, the significance of later additions and individual preference of the custodians, not to mention resource constraints (Gill & Eastop, 1997; Eastop & Gill, 2001). Treatment options range from stabilizing the object as found, through removing damaging later additions, to replacing missing elements with new (Gill, 2004). In the case of the Corsham chairs, one option considered initially was to stabilize the loss but leave it un-camouflaged as the areas of loss would reveal some of the rare surviving original upholstery structure and materials underneath. In this instance the primary role of the object would be that of a historic document, a valuable study piece for upholstery scholars. This practice has been observed in historic houses and museums including the former upholstery bays at the Victoria and Albert Museum and also at Ham House, UK. On display in a room setting, such pieces have been presented in historically in-keeping case covers, a practice now well established in many historic houses and museums (Sandwith & Stainton, 1991). Understandably, at Corsham Court, this was not considered a desirable option by the custodians for the pieces currently undergoing treatment. However, there was some discussion about treating one of the remaining chairs in the suite (with a high percentage of damask loss) in this way. Following discussion of the options with the custodians, a decision was made to use a medium weight, plain weave habutai silk with crepeline overlay for the conservation patch infills. Habutai silk and crepeline of different shades of red were dyed to accommodate the varying tones observed across the unevenly faded damask of the top covers. The patches played an aesthetic rather than 299

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Figure 4.6.3 Detail of one corner of the armchair back: left, before conservation treatment; centre, during conservation treatment; right, after conservation treatment. Image reproduced by kind permission of Corsham Court, Bristol Museums, Galleries and Archives and the Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow (TCC 2929).

supportive role. They were positioned across the areas of loss and their edges were gently inserted behind the top cover and in most areas held with a few stitches to the well-preserved underlying linen upholstery under-structure layer. The linen layer provided a strong base and was a critical element in the success of the next stage of treatment.

In-situ conservation treatments – the important role played by net Numerous past successful in-situ upholstery conservation treatments have involved the use of semi-transparent conservation-grade nylon bobbinet to stabilize individual upholstery layers and entire upholstered seat or back units. The popularity of net as a protective overlay is due in part to its unique properties, including the stretchy structure, which, with subtle tensioning and easing and effective placement of support stitching, can be made to conform well to the undulating surface of the upholstered form. Its relative thinness and its resistance to fraying, if handled carefully, eliminate the need to hem edges and enable raw edges to be tucked behind trimmings or under the edges of decorative nails. If applied effectively, net can provide a full continuous support without interfering with the upholstery profile, and, in many instances, by gently securing the degraded top covers back in place, it can help to re-define the original profile. However, its success is largely dependent on the condition of the upholstery under-structure and the top cover itself. The net relies on being stitched directly to the upholstery under-structure; not an ideal solution, but preferable, in most instances, to temporarily removing the top covers for treatment. The style of seat furniture and upholstery also determines how, if at all, the edges of the net can be attached to the upholstery or the frame. Furthermore, the top covers have to be stable enough to withstand net in direct contact with the surface. If the cover is too fragile, even the threads of the conservation grade nylon net pressing against the degraded threads of the conserved textile can be too abrasive. For example, pile fabrics are particularly problematic, and net overlays are rarely successful as the net will at least permanently bruise the pile and at worst, over time, cause the pile to break off. 300

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Adaptation of original upholstery techniques to meet the requirements of conservation treatment Application of net overlays to serve as an effective support, rather than just as an overlay to protect the cover on open display and during surface cleaning, requires skill, experience and a thorough understanding of the upholstery structure and technical knowledge of how the upholsterer originally applied the cover to the upholstered form. Net was selected as an in-situ protective overlay and external support for the inner back seat and arm pad covers for the Corsham chairs as it could be manipulated around the shallow tufting, and the edges of the net panels could be securely anchored into the relatively stable welted seams. Following consultation with the custodians, the net was custom-dyed to a tone which more closely resembled the colour of the aged damask rather than to the colour of the damask when new. The purpose of this was to improve the visual integration between the patched top covers. The primary aim of the net application was to maximize support of the patched damask covers, including the welted seams, using a minimal amount of stitching across the surface of each panel. In order to achieve this across the undulating shallow tufted surface, the net was stitched through the original locations of the shallow tufting. To provide the tensioning necessary to maximize contact, the original technique used by the upholsterer was adapted and refined as follows. The heavy flax thread that would have been used by the original upholsterer was substituted with a finer polyester thread.6 Using a double-pointed upholstery needle, the individual anchoring stitches were passed through the original location of the shallow tufting and through all upholstery layers and the net. In the case of the seat the anchoring stitch, in effect a slip knot, was tied off on the underside of the seat. Due to the presence of the outside back cover the slip knot was tied off at the front; once the tension had been adjusted the thread ends were fed through, out of sight, into the upholstery interior. To reduce bulkiness and achieve better contact between net, damask and welted seam, the top and side panels of the seat and the back were covered in two separate panels of net rather than one continuous piece. The net edges were carefully and firmly manipulated around the welted seam and stitched close and adjacent to the original seam in order to realign and reinstate the crisp fine line of the upholstered edge (Figure 4.6.3 right). The net was trimmed around the close nailing. Most of the edges were anchored by stitching them to the silk and linen that survived in the ‘V’ shape sections between the nails. This fabric had been protected by the nails, so was considered strong enough to hold the stitches. In a few areas along the seat side panels, the net was stitched directly to the silk damask as a continuous layer of linen underlay did not appear to be present. Again, the edges of the net overlay were tucked between the nail heads and the wood to anchor them securely in position, offering further protection to the fragile silk.

A non-interventive seat support These core principles were applied throughout, but the condition of each chair was individually assessed and the treatment adapted slightly to provide the most effective support for that particular case. For example, additional support was required for one chair which had a sagging seat.7 A support system was required that would address four main needs. First, it needed to support the weight of the seat upholstery and reduce the risk of the webbing failing and the seat collapsing further into the seat frame. Second, it needed to raise the seat sufficiently to reduce areas of tension and 301

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Figure 4.6.4 Cross-sectional view of the non-interventive seat support. The support panel (1) is held in position with custom-made brass brackets. The panel is attached to the threaded element of the metal fixing (2) with a washer and wing nut. The metal fixing slips between the corner block of the seat rail (3) and the seat webbing (4). The wing nut enables the position of the support sheet to be lowered or raised as necessary. This diagram shows one of the threaded ties (5) which secure the net to the surface of the red damask (6). Image by Kathryn Gill.

distortion within the damask, and within the underlying upholstery layers and along the tack lines. Third, the support system needed to be as firm as the web-supported seat structures on the remaining chairs to accommodate the conservation stitching ties in the tufted areas, enabling the net to work as an effective protective overlay for the damask. Finally, the system needed to be affixed to the frame without disturbing the under-structure or introducing metal fasteners (such as tacks or staples) into the frames. Many successful non-interventive seat support systems have been designed and implemented in upholstery and furniture conservation, although they are not widely published (Anderson, 1988). A non-interventive seat support using the system illustrated by Gill (Gill & Doyal, 2003) was adapted slightly to meet the specific requirements of the Corsham chair. This seat support made for the Corsham chair comprised a vented Perspex™/Plexiglass® acrylic panel which had been cut to fit the exposed area of the webbed seat base (Figure 4.6.4).8 The acrylic panel was screwed to four custom-made brass brackets which rested on the top surface of the seat corner blocks.9 The acrylic panel support raised the seat sufficiently to allow the net to work as an effective protective overlay for the damask. Thread ties which secured the net to the surface of the damask at the original tuft locations were passed through the seat upholstery and through small predrilled holes in the acrylic panel. The exposed section of the threads were protected from the drilled edges of the acrylic by passing them through short lengths of fine silicon tubing before tying them off (Figure 4). The acrylic panel is not visible when the chair is on display.

Conclusion Case studies concerning in-situ upholstery conservation treatments are rarely published. Perhaps it is because such treatments are often regarded as relatively straightforward and well established

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within the textile conservation discipline, especially if the treatment involves encasing top covers with net, a treatment option often regarded as a relatively low-cost, short-term solution to project the upholstery on open display. Treatments focusing primarily on stabilization may also receive less attention because the issues, and the skills and knowledge required to execute them, may be considered less noteworthy (Gill, 2004). However, as this case study shows, in-situ treatments involving net as the main support material can be quite complex. The unique qualities of net can enable a sophisticated minimally interventive treatment to be undertaken to maximum effect, in this instance preserving, stabilizing and reinstating the subtle features of the upholstery and profile without removing original elements from the frame. Successfully executed in-situ treatments are not always straightforward; they can raise many issues and may require considerable experience in textile conservation and other disciplines, as well as a thorough understanding of historic upholstery techniques.

Acknowledgements I would like to thank Mr James Methuen-Campbell, Corsham Court, Wiltshire; Karin Walton, Bristol Museums, Galleries and Archives; and Nell Hoare, Director, Textile Conservation Centre for permission to publish this work. I would like to acknowledge the support provided by colleagues at the Textile Conservation Centre, University of Southampton. Special thanks go to Dinah Eastop for her invaluable editorial advice.

References Anderson, M. (1988). A non-damaging upholstery system applied to an 18th century easy chair. In (n.e.), Wooden artifacts group preprints (pp. 1–15). Washington DC: AIC. Beard, G. (1997). Upholsterers and interior furnishing in England 1530–1840. London: Yale. Eastop, D. & Gill, K. (2001). Introduction. In K. Gill & D. Eastop (Eds), Upholstery conservation, principles and practice (pp. 1–9). Oxford: Elsevier/Butterworth-Heinemann. Gill, K. (2004). The development of upholstery conservation as a practice of investigation, interpretation and preservation. Reviews in Conservation, 5, 3–22. Gill, K. & Doyal, S. (2003). Conserving other materials II, 16.3, Upholstery. In S. Rivers & N. Umney (Eds), Conservation of furniture (pp. 721–730). Oxford: Elsevier/Butterworth-Heinemann. Gill, K. & Eastop, D. (1997). Two contrasting minimally interventive upholstery treatments: different roles, different treatments. In K. Marko (Ed.), Textiles in trust (pp. 67–77). London: Archetype and the National Trust. Marko, K. (1997). Continuing conservation traditions at Uppark: the conservation of the saloon curtains. In K. Marko (Ed.), Textiles in trust (pp. 108–117). London: Archetype and the National Trust. Sandwith, H. & Stainton, S. (1991). The National Trust manual of housekeeping. London: Viking.

Notes * Published in 2010. 1 TCC unpublished report, TCC 2929, 9 May 2005. 2 TCC ref 2929.3; client ref [16]. 3 In this case study the term ‘in situ’, in reference to the conservation treatment, means all conservation procedures were carried out on the upholstered chairs, and that no elements were temporarily removed for treatment. 4 Sixteen armchairs, the winged armchair and the window stools from the suite were accepted by HM Government under the ‘in-lieu [of Inheritance Tax] in situ’ arrangement and allocated to Bristol Museums, Galleries and Archives.

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Kathryn (Kate) Gill 5 Fibre identification was based on visual examination only. 6 Gütermann™ MARA 50. 7 TCC 2929.3. 8 The templates were prepared by Kate Gill and fabricated by Alda Plastics following Kate Gill’s instructions. 9 The brass brackets were designed by Kate Gill and fabricated by Mike Halliwell.

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4.7 PROGRESS IN ADHESIVE TECHNIQUES – THE CONSERVATION OF TWO COPTIC TUNICS AT THE VICTORIA AND ALBERT MUSEUM* Lynda Hillyer Introduction The use of adhesives for the support of fragile textiles, and specifically thermoplastic adhesives, was for many years one of the most contentious issues in the field of textile conservation. It polarized the profession and created deep divisions. The two case histories in this chapter were carried out when this division was still current. They are also extreme examples. In current practice adhesives are rarely used for the support of archaeological textiles. The period that these two case histories cover saw significant advances in the evaluation of the use of adhesives. Analysis of the successes and failures of early adhesive treatments became the foundation of a more differentiated understanding of the importance of application techniques as well as the working properties of a wider range of materials. Scientific testing programmes, practical experimentation and open communication between different schools of textile conservation resulted in the freedom to choose the most appropriate adhesive and application technique for a specific condition as well as a more informed understanding of the limitations that adhesives can pose. Another advance in this period was the use of the scanning electron microscope. Photomicrographs revealed in graphic detail the degree of deterioration within very degraded textiles and the irreversible damage that can occur in wet cleaning. This case study describes the treatment of two Coptic tunics which were conserved at the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A) between 1986 and 1996, a period that was characterized by changes in approach and advances in techniques.

Conservation Archaeological textiles are rarely suitable objects for adhesive treatments, but in both cases the body of each tunic was considered to have enough tensile strength to withstand a light adhesive

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bond. The primary aim of each treatment was to give coherence to fragile areas which could not be supported adequately by stitching alone. A second function of the adhesive support was to minimize the overall amount of stitching needed to stabilize the object. In both cases the tunics were conserved for immediate display.

Coptic tunic dated 600–800 AD A seventh-century tunic (136–1891) was conserved in 1986 (Hillyer & White, 1998). It had been excavated from Akhim in Upper Egypt, an important centre for linen manufacture in the ancient world. The discovery of burial grounds to the east of the city in 1884 yielded large numbers of textiles. The seventh-century tunic (Figure 4.7.1) is a man’s garment and a typical example of daily wear in Coptic Egypt. It is T-shaped. The sleeves and upper part of the tunic were woven in one piece, and the garment was constructed with the warps of the linen running horizontally. The side seams and lower sections of the tunic are joined with run and fell seams. The sleeve seams were open when the garment came into the studio, but stitch marks indicate that they were once joined. The tunic is decorated with fine tapestry roundels and bands (clavi) woven with linen warps and wool wefts of red, blue, yellow, green and black, depicting men and animals. Crease marks around the central tucked seam indicate that the tunic was probably worn belted. The spread of Christianity in Egypt in the third and fourth centuries AD meant that many bodies were simply buried in the clothes they would have worn in life. By the seventh century embalming practices were carried out in a perfunctory manner. The condition of the seventh-century tunic

Figure 4.7.1  Coptic tunic dated between 600 and 800 AD. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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was a strong indication that the body had been prepared for burial with preservative oils or resins. Virtually the whole of the back of the tunic was impregnated with waxy deposits, resulting in a dark, inflexible appearance which obscured the weave of the linen (Figure 4.7.2). The back had been slit from neck to hem to remove the remains of the body, which had caused extensive staining, a phenomenon commonly seen on the backs of excavated Coptic tunics. The condition of the rest of the tunic varied. On areas within the sleeves and seams, the linen was soft and flexible and retained a creamy white colour. A range of colours on the face of the garment indicated different stages of cellulose deterioration. On the face of the tunic, between the two clavi, there was a friable area which contained several areas of loss. The edges of all areas of loss, where the linen had been exposed to greater oxidation, were predictably more brittle. However, in general the tunic was safe to handle and the linen on the front of the tunic was flexible. At some point in its history it had been given a full support of cotton rep fabric, which was attached with numerous small running stitches around each area of loss. Once the preliminary support had been removed, the conservation treatment followed standard studio practice. An eighth-century tunic had been conserved in a similar way in 1979 (Marko & Dobbie, 1982). The seventh-century tunic was wet cleaned, despite the hydrophobic nature of the back, a process which gave great clarity to the colours of the tapestry woven roundels and the clavi and raised the pH from 5 to 5.5. The whole object was then given a support of nylon net treated with three coats of Mowilith® DMC2 (vinyl acetate and dibutyl maleate co-polymer) in a 40% solution with deionized water applied on a custom-made net table (Landi, 1966). The adhesive bond was activated with a heated spatula iron. The main function of this treatment was to join the slit in the back of the tunic. There was a predictable problem of securing the adhesive bond; the surface of the object appeared rigid.

Figure 4.7.2 Back of the seventh-century Coptic tunic. The linen is impregnated with the remains of embalming fluids. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Photography Lynda Hillyer © V&A.

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The underside of the back was treated with a light application of 1.1.1.Trichloroethane in an attempt to reduce the waxy deposits, and the net support was given a further coat of adhesive. A dyed linen support was made, and areas of loss were couched to this secondary backing. Finally, a cotton lining marginally smaller than the conserved tunic was made for the final display in the gallery where the tunic was hung on a T-bar display stand.

Second-third-century tunic Ten years later, a very rare linen tunic (361–1887) was conserved for a loan to the British Museum. It too was excavated from the Akhmin burial grounds and is considered to be one of the finest and earliest tunics found at this site (Figure 4.7.3). It is a wide-sleeved garment or dalmatic, probably made for a woman. Several ancient repairs of thin linen patches indicate that it was well worn. The clavi or shoulder stripes and the sleeve bands have intricate interlaced patterns of plant forms woven in purple wool with flying thread brocading in undyed linen. A narrow gold and purple wool band, identified as Tyrian purple, on the lower front of the tunic indicates an object of high quality (Woolley, 1997). All seams of the tunic were open, but there was evidence of stitch holes and sleeve seams. Stitch holes across the width of the tunic at waist level suggest that originally there was a tuck that had been released to adjust the length. There were substantial areas of loss around the waist and across the shoulders. The linen surrounding these areas of loss was fragmented, brittle and stained. Throughout the rest of the tunic, however, the linen, although yellowed and degraded, was surprisingly supple. There was no evidence of embalming fluids or body deposits, and in general the tunic appeared to be remarkably clean. There were numerous creases associated with burial. At some point in its history it had been stitched to a heavy ill-fitting linen support with numerous small silk stitches in a similar manner to the preliminary support given to the seventh-century tunic. The stitching had caused the linen to break around the areas of loss, resulting in further damage. A Melinex® map of the object was created to record stitch marks, creases and areas of ancient repair. A number of treatment options were considered. Encapsulating the object in silk or polyester crepeline could have achieved a satisfactory result but would have obscured the surface texture and the varying tonal values of this fine and extremely rare linen. The object had to be available as a reference for study and stable enough for relatively long-term display. All original evidence had to be accessible. A stitched support could not have given adequate support to the most vulnerable and brittle areas of the linen. The condition of these areas eventually determined the choice of an overall adhesive support. The choice of adhesive and substrate and the application method reflect wider changes in the field. The tunic was given a full support using Vinamul® 3252 (vinyl acetate-ethylene copolymer) in a 20% solution applied to a Stabiltex® substrate. The linen was too vulnerable to consider a patched support but retained enough tensile strength and flexibility to make the adhesive support a viable option. The fact that all the seams of the tunic were unstitched meant that the garment could be opened out and this facilitated the application. The adhesive was activated using a spatula iron after preliminary placement of the fragments by hand. Vinamul® 3252 has a low glass transition temperature (Tg), which gives it pressure-sensitive qualities, a useful quality for fragmented objects. The tapestry-woven bands were treated separately and couched to untreated Stabiltex® supports. One of the most important considerations of the adhesive support was that the object should retain all evidence of creasing from burial. The softness and flexibility of this film meant that this was possible. Another important practical and aesthetic factor was that the adhesive could be easily removed from the substrate where it was exposed in areas of loss. A simple method was 308

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Figure 4.7.3  Second-third-century tunic after conservation. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

devised using long-fibre machine-rolled acid-free paper. Small sections of paper (about 50mm²) were laid on the exposed film and dampened with acetone using a cotton wool swab. The damp paper activated the film and removed the adhesive when the paper was peeled away. This method worked well on areas containing loose threads or exposed warps which had been used as a decorative feature. Microscopic examination of the linen, after a section of film was removed to create a ‘viewing window’ on the reverse of the tunic, revealed that there was no visible penetration of the fibres by the adhesive. The supported tunic was given a secondary support of dyed cotton lawn which enabled supplementary stitching to be carried out. A slightly padded mount which followed the outlines of the conserved tunic and gave additional overall support was constructed for display.

Re-evaluating treatment choices Both treatments were highly interventive, and the treatment decisions may well be questioned or rejected by modern conservators. Thirty-five years ago it was routine practice to wet clean many archaeological textiles. This practice continued until the late 1980s when conservators began to become more aware of the potential loss of evidence that wet cleaning can present and the vital necessity of preserving all forms of evidence for future research and study (Cooke, 1988a). Work at the University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology (UMIST) in the 1980s using the scanning electron microscope revealed dramatic images of the extent of fibre damage (Cooke, 1988b; Figure 4.7.4). 309

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Figure 4.7.4 Photomicrograph of unwashed Egyptian dynastic linen fragment. Magnification ×1250.  Image taken with a scanning electron microscope and shows transverse cracking and breakdown of fibre bundles. © University of Manchester. Image by Brenda Lomas, UMIST.

These graphic images were a major contribution to debate among conservators about the irreversible nature of wet cleaning. But perhaps the most contentious aspect of the treatment choices is the use of thermoplastic adhesive techniques on fragile archaeological material. In the case of the seventh-century tunic, it is unlikely that an adhesive method would be a treatment option today. The slit in the back of the tunic had directed the choice of treatment, but the condition of the back, impregnated with embalming oils, made adhesion problematic. There are alternative ways in which the back could have been stabilized for display without the use of an adhesive, eliminating the need to remove (however minimal) some of the original deposits, a treatment that might well be considered unethical today. The use of a T-bar stand would be considered inadequate for the long-term display of such a relatively fragile object. The development of sophisticated mounting techniques is another notable advance of the last 35 years; the importance of well-designed mounts is recognized as a vital part of the support system for many types of object and can often reduce the amount of intervention needed (Lister, 1997). By contrast, the third-century tunic was examined 20 years after its conservation and its treatment was still considered valid and successful.

Developing wider choices By the early 1990s there was wider agreement in the field about the use of adhesive techniques. They began to be considered as a valid choice rather than a last resort in the treatment of textiles which could not be adequately supported by traditional stitched supports (Keyserlingk, 1990). Textiles that had been given thermoplastic adhesive supports 20–25 years earlier began to be 310

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returned to studios for re-treatment. Inevitably this led to a re-evaluation of early techniques. Failures of treatments could often be traced to poor application even where the adhesives had been shown to have long-term chemical and physical stability (Keyserlingk, 1999). Nylon net had been used extensively as a substrate for the adhesive in early treatments at the V&A. The adhesive was usually applied to net stretched on a custom-built net table. The net could sometimes be overstretched on this apparatus, and a common cause of failure was a tendency for the net to distort and revert to its original dimension, thus breaking the adhesive bond (Gentle, 1998). Other causes were the use of high temperatures and pressures to secure a bond. Temperatures that were considerably higher than the melt point of the adhesive led to eventual mechanical breakdown of the bond. The use of a vacuum hot table ensured an even bond by utilizing all points of contact on a textile and guaranteed an even temperature and pressure; it was particularly useful for large textiles. However, high pressures were used routinely and this practice led, in very extreme cases, to an imprint of the net on the face of the textile. In the very early days of adhesive treatments, there was less understanding of the need for supplementary stitching and for an isolating layer behind the adhesive substrate. Adhesive supports were also used to support inappropriate weave structures such as brocades and brocatelles or on inappropriate objects, such as tapestries. Treatments failed eventually because of insufficient contact between the adhesive substrate and the textile and the lack of supplementary stitching. These failures (many of which were reversed or modified during the 1990s) motivated conservators to investigate the working qualities of a number of thermoplastic adhesives and the relationship of the adhesive film to the method of application (Hillyer, 1998). The method of application was recognized as important a factor in the conservation treatment as the selection of the adhesive on a scientific basis. In 1984, the Canadian Conservation Institute published the preliminary results of an extensive programme of testing of selected poly(vinyl acetate) and acrylic adhesives at the IIC Adhesives and Consolidants conference in Paris (1984). At the same conference Howells et al. published their research on a number of polymer dispersions. Largely on the basis of this work, Vinamul® 3252, a material which has high extensibility and flexibility, became the adhesive of choice for a number of studios in the UK. Both these studies have had a lasting influence on the choices made by textile conservators and coincided with the beginning of focused examination of the whole subject of adhesive applications in textile conservation. Communication between conservators from different schools of conservation opened up the field. The 1990s witnessed a series of workshops and conferences on the subject of adhesives. In the late 1980s the Conservation Distlist was established, giving conservators a forum to share difficulties and information. Interdisciplinary communication widened the field. Consultations with paintings conservators led to a review of the use of the vacuum hot table and to the introduction of much lower pressures, a development which had already occurred in the paintings conservation field (Gentle, 1994). However, textile conservators began to look for alternatives to the use of thermoplastic adhesives, and the 1990s saw the emergence of renewed interest in starch pastes. Collaboration with paper conservators led to experimentation in the use of new techniques and materials for the support of brittle silks (Kite & Webber, 1995). By the mid 1990s almost half of UK conservators had used Japanese paper as a support, highlighting an increased interest in the use of wheatstarch and the possibilities of cold lining techniques (Hillyer et al., 1997). At the British Museum, a banana fibre belt was supported using Japanese mulberry paper and a mixture of sodium carboxymethyl cellulose (Blanose™ 7MC) and arrowroot starch which was re-activated using a humidification technique on a low-pressure lining table (Cruickshank & Morgan, 1993). The same method was successfully used on fragile archaeological shroud fragments (Cruickshank & Morgan, 1995). 311

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The use of solvent-activated films began to appear in the mid 1990s. Klucel™ G (­ Hydroxypropylcellulose) was used on a silk crepeline substrate to protect the surface of a fragile ­twentieth-century embroidery (Gill & Boersma, 1997). By the late 1980s conservators began to use a combination of water-based acrylic dispersions, Lascaux 498HV and Lascaux 360HV. These adhesives could also be solvent activated. Both Vinamul® 3252 and the water-based acrylic adhesives were useful additions to the field because of their flexibility. Both have low Tgs, which gives them pressure-sensitive qualities and are useful in the preliminary placing of very fragmented textiles before final adhesion to a support. Klucel™ G (Hydroxypropylcellulose) became a popular choice because of its matt appearance when used to face textiles and for its solubility in both water and organic solvents. Both Klucel™ G and the acrylic adhesives have been used as substrate-free films (Haldane, 2000; Thompson, 2001).

Conclusion The two case histories in this chapter are part of the history of the use of adhesives at the V&A. The treatments were completed at a time when the whole subject was being constantly discussed and re-assessed. They need to be viewed in the wider context of this 40-year history (Hackett & Hillyer, 2019). In the last 20 years there have been fewer publications on the use of adhesives. This is due in part to a resolution of the controversy surrounding the use of adhesives and to a decrease in the number of adhesive treatments carried out. A plateau in the technical application of adhesives appears to have been reached. There have been no further major testing programmes of adhesives for textile conservation. Two interesting studies on the complex inter-relationship between object, adhesive and adhesive substrate (Pretzel, 1997; Karsten, 2002), indicated a different perspective. Not only are methods and choices more differentiated, but dialogues between conservators and scientists have led to investigations of techniques in greater depth. The response to the failures of some early adhesive techniques has been a positive and constructive examination of almost every aspect of the subject. Wider choices developed out of discussion and debate between textile conservators and a willingness to examine openly the successes and failures of treatments carried out over a period of four decades. The use of adhesives in textile conservation has become far less frequent but at the same time more differentiated and refined. In most studios the choice is seen as one of technique and materials rather than of principle. They are used infrequently. Sixteen textiles out of 400 prepared for the opening of the British Galleries in 2001 and only four out of 200 for the European Galleries which opened in 2015 were treated with adhesives. An Egyptian tunic was conserved at the V&A for the Medieval and Renaissance Galleries, which opened in November 2009. Its treatment is described in a case study in Chapter 6 of this publication. The tunic is constructed of wool fabric, and there was never any question of the use of an adhesive technique. However, the approach to its conservation reveals further developments in the field. The role of the object has changed, and it is displayed within a wider context. Extensive analysis was carried out to reveal what stories the tunic might reveal. The information gathered is of interest to both museum professionals and the general public. The conservation treatment was minimal. The support of the tunic relies not only on its conservation but on a custom-made mount which utilizes magnetic pads. The approach is more holistic; the object is seen as part of a much larger vista and made accessible to its public not only by the method of display but by the information that has been revealed. 312

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References Brommelle, N.S., Pye, E.M., Smith, P. & Thomson, G. (Eds) (1984). Adhesives and consolidants. Preprints, IIC, 1984, Paris. London: IIC. Cooke, W. (1988a). Creasing in ancient textiles. Conservation News, 35, 27–30. Cooke, W. (1988b). Research in textile conservation. In V. Todd (Ed.), Conservation today, preprints, UKIC 30th anniversary conference (pp. 34–35). London: UKIC. Cruickshank, P. & Morgan, H. (1993). Lining a banana fibre belt – a cool vacuum table technique. SSCR Journal, 4(2), 10–14. Gentle, N. (1994). The conservation of an early 18th century Indian chintz Qanat. V&A Conservation Journal, 11, 15–17. Gentle, N. (1998). A decade and a half of hindsight: two adhesive treatments reconsidered. In J. Lewis (Ed.), Adhesive treatments revisited. Postprints, UKIC TS third adhesives forum, 1997 (pp. 27–30). London: UKIC. Gill, K. & Boersma, F. (1997). Solvent reactivation of hydroxypropyl cellulose (Klucel™ G) in textile ­conservation: recent developments. The Conservator, 21, 12–20. Hackett J. & Hillyer, L. (2019). Adhesives in textile conservation: a survey of 60 years of adhesive use at the V&A. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned: textile conservation, then and now. ­Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau, Canada (pp. 200–218). NATCC. Haldane, E.A. (2000). Notes on a new method of application for Klucel G: substrate-free adhesive films ­developed for use on a fragile applique and embroidered textile. Conservation News, 73, 64. Hillyer, L. (1998). Re-evaluating adhesives – current work in the United Kingdom. In Á. Tímár-Balázsy & D. Eastop (Eds), International perspectives on textile conservation (pp. 18–22). London: Archetype. Hillyer, L., Tinker, Z. & Singer, P. (1997). Evaluating the use of adhesives in textile conservation. Part 1. An overview and survey of current use. The Conservator, 21, 37–47. Hillyer, L. & White, S. (1998). The conservation of two Coptic tunics. In J. Lewis (Ed.), Adhesive treatments revisited. Postprints, UKIC TS third adhesives forum, 1997 (pp. 4–11). London: UKIC. Howells, R., Hedley, G., Burnstock, A. & Hackney, S. (1984). Polymer dispersions artificially aged. In N.S. Brommelle, E.M. Pye, P. Smith & G. Thomson (Eds), Adhesives and consolidants. Preprints, IIC, 1984, Paris (pp. 36–43). London: IIC. Karsten, I. (2002). The properties and light stability of silk adhered to sheer silk and polyester support fabrics with poly(vinyl acetate) copolymer adhesives. Studies in Conservation, 47(3), 195–210. Keyserlingk, E. (1990). The use of adhesives in textile conservation. In N.K. Grimstad (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 1990, Dresden (pp. 307–312). Paris: ICOM. Keyserlingk, E. (1999). Case histories of textile adhesive treatments using acrylic resins poly (n-butyl methacrylate). Unpublished paper presented at the Symposium on the use of adhesives and consolidants in textile conservation. Textile Conservation Group, New York, January 1993. Kite, M. & Webber, P. (1995). The conservation of an English embroidered picture using an Oriental paper method: a joint approach. The Conservator, 19, 29–35. Landi, S. (1966). Three examples of textile conservation at the Victoria and Albert Museum. Studies in Conservation, 11(3), 143–157. Lister, A. (1997). Making the most of mounts: expanding the role of display mounts in the preservation and interpretation of historic textiles. In (n.e.), Symposium 97. Fabric of an exhibition: an interdisciplinary approach. Preprints, CCI & NATCC, 1997, Ottawa (pp. 143–148). Ottawa: CCI. Marko, K. & Dobbie, M. (1982). The conservation of an 8thC AD sleeveless Coptic tunic. Studies in Conservation, 27(4), 154–160. Pretzel, B. (1997). Evaluating the use of adhesives in textile conservation. Part II. Tests and evaluation matrix. The Conservator, 21, 48–58. Thompson. K. (2001). LascauxTM – its use as a substrate-free film. Conservation News, 74, 45–46. Woolley, L. (1997). Catalogue entry. In Ancient faces, mummy portraits from Roman Egypt. London: British Museum Press.

Note * Published in 2010, revised in 2024.

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4.8 THE ADHESIVE TREATMENT OF AN EARLY NINETEENTHCENTURY STRAW-EMBROIDERED SILK NET DRESS* Lauren Osmond, Katy Smith Introduction An early nineteenth-century silk net dress was donated to the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A), London, in 2018. Of classic Regency style, the dress has a waistline that sits directly below the bust, a plunging square neckline, and short puffed sleeves; its volume is created through heavy ruching fastened with drawstring ribbons and intricate darting. The original under-dress has been lost. The dress is constructed from white, heavily starched, single press point silk net, with an all-over pattern of flowers, the hem decorated with flounces trimmed with imitation ears of wheat (Figure 4.8.1). The embellishments incorporate split-straw embroidery, trims of braided and whole straw elements, and blown glass beads filled with coloured wax. Unique for its exquisite use of materials, the dress represents a rare survival and was acquired despite being rated in ‘very poor’ condition and vulnerable to further deterioration. As such, conservation was prioritized upon entering the collection, and was a requirement of its acquisition. The state of preservation, and inherent vice of the object, with fragile silk net and heavy embroidery, meant that a radical and time-consuming approach was required. With generous funding from the Samuel H. Kress Foundation, the restoration of this dress was completed by a visiting conservation fellow under the supervision and mentorship of a V&A senior conservator to develop and refine skills through hands-on practice. With an emphasis on the decision-making process, this case study will outline the highly interventive conservation treatment required to stabilize the dress, allow its preservation, and make it available for study and display. Adhesive treatments have been used to conserve textiles at the V&A for the past six decades, with a one-size-fits-all approach in the earlier years (Hackett & Hillyer, 2019). In the 1990s more research was undertaken to refine and legitimize the use of adhesive treatments, resulting in a significant diversity of material choices, advances in techniques and methods, and a more calculated approach to evaluating the suitability of adhesive treatments on specific textile-based objects (Hackett & Hillyer, 2019; and see Hillyer’s case study in this chapter). Continuing to learn from past adhesive treatments at the V&A, this case study will also serve as an example of a textile-based object that could not be effectively stabilized through techniques other than the use of adhesive-backed support fabrics, deconstruction, and reconstruction. DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-37314

Adhesive treatment of a straw-embroidered silk net dress

Figure 4.8.1 T.2428-2021 Given by the V&A Americas Foundation through the generosity of B. Okumura. Net dress, front view, laid flat, before conservation. In this image, the drawstring under the bust has been left untied in order to document the construction and condition of the dress, and also to reduce the strain on the fragile ruched silk. For scale, the length of the dress from shoulder to hem is 1.34m. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

Condition of the dress The silk net was clean with no prominent stains or soiling, but with slight yellow discolouration caused by photo-oxidation. The net was brittle, with many splits throughout the dress, typically running parallel with the direction of the net. The extreme degree of splitting in some areas, such as the small, yet voluminous, bodice and heavy skirt flounce, had resulted in large areas of loss to the net. Induced by previous handling and folded storage, this structural damage was a result of the weakening of silk fibres, the methods of manufacturing, the ageing properties of the heavy wheat starch dressing, the design of the dress, and the weight of the embroidered elements. There was very little visible evidence that the dress had been worn. The style of net is a single press point net which was produced on a stocking frame (c.1770s– mid nineteenth century) whereby silk threads were hand fed into the machine to create rows of transferred loops. This type of net required the application of pressed starch or gum dressing to keep its shape and impart strength for further embroidery (Farrell, 2007). Micrographs of a fragment of the net from the dress were taken via scanning electron microscopy (SEM) and show the dense application of wheat starch to the bundles of silk filaments (Figure 4.8.2). The micrograph also shows the boundary of significant weakness created at the loop points where the starch has been lost through abrasion and the silk filaments are left bare. 315

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Figure 4.8.2 FEI Quanta 650 FEG scanning electron microscope (backscattered mode at ×84) image of silk net from T.2428-2021 showing abraded wheat starch dressing. © The Trustees of The Natural History Museum.

The severe weaknesses within the net substrate rendered it unable to support the heavy embellishments of the beaded and embroidered design. The flounce and trims had become detached from the dress in many areas due to the loss of underlying net. The two bands of trim on the skirt, with beads on woven silk ribbons, bordered with plaited straw, were also shattering, leaving long strings of beads to float precariously and the straw braids to unravel and break. Several of the glass beads were crushed and missing, some had signs of crizzling, and in areas the yellow wax filling showed stress cracks.

Decision-making and material choices for treatment A reactive and proactive treatment approach was required to consolidate the weakened net, stabilize the splits and detaching embellishments, and enable the dress to be mounted onto a bustform figure with a replica underdress for record photography followed by display in the V&A galleries.

Support fabric for silk net Taking a closer look at the construction and condition of the silk net using SEM imaging provided a visualization of the structural weakness and justification of the need for the dress to be fully backed with a support fabric using an adhesive method of application. A support fabric bonded to 316

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the silk net with an adhesive would reduce the movement of the silk filament bundles, preventing breaks in the areas of weakness, and rejoining the split area to restore structural integrity (Karsten & Vuori, 2015). Open-weave silk crepeline and polyester crepeline (e.g., discontinued Stabiltex®, Tetex®) remain as a go-to support fabric for adhesive treatments at the V&A (Hackett & Hillyer, 2019). Nylon net support fabrics were used for decades in the V&A’s foundational adhesive treatments, before going out of favour in the 1990s for woven textiles. More recently, net has generally not been considered for adhesive treatments due to frequent failure and reduced strength of the adhesive bond (Karsten & Kerr, 2011; Hackett & Hillyer, 2019; Hillyer case study in this chapter). However, for the stabilization of this silk net dress, an adhesive-coated nylon net remained a valid support fabric due to its compatibility with the silk net artefact (Hillyer et al., 1997; Hartog & Tinker, 1998). The transparency of the silk net dress is a distinct design element of the Regency era, and it was important to preserve this quality. Nylon net (20 denier monofilament, Dukeries N8000) was selected as a support fabric for its extremely low thread density (9–10 yarns/cm, i.e., very transparent) and for its flexibility, which would allow it to conform to the three-­dimensionality of the dress. Since both the silk net artefact and the nylon net support fabric have such low thread density, the number of contact sites between the two would be very low, naturally creating a weaker adhesive bond. This was to be counteracted by applying a higher percentage of adhesive and greater amount of supplementary stitching.

Adhesives for applying nylon net support fabric to the silk net artefact Vinamul® 3252, a vinyl acetate/ethylene copolymer adhesive, was selected for its physical properties, working properties, and for its compatibility with the nylon net. Its flexibility and high peel strength make Vinamul® 3252 ideal for use on three-dimensional textiles due to these objects’ increased handling and movement, and studies have shown it to be an effective adhesive on nylon fabrics, which require a stronger adhesive due to the chemical and structural properties of nylon fibres (Karsten & Kerr, 2011). Vinamul® 3252 has a 3°C glass transition temperature (Tg) and, as such, it remains tacky as a dry film at room temperature. This tackiness was considered desirable because, prior to adhesive reactivation, it would help hold the silk net in place during the long process of fragment realignment (Karsten & Vuori, 2015). Generally, the ageing properties of Vinamul® 3252 are good, except that it is known to become less reversible over time (Horie, 2010). Though the principle of reversibility is generally an important consideration when selecting an adhesive, in practice, the extremely poor condition of this dress would never allow for a completely reversible treatment without damage, even if a more reversible adhesive was used. The ideal properties of Vinamul® 3252 and its application techniques would theoretically result in a conservation treatment that would be less likely to fail and require retreatment. Vinamul® 3252, like other thermoplastic adhesives, can be reactivated by heat and specific solvents, which would allow for the dress to be retreated in the future, if need arose. The authors selected to use heat reactivation because of its ability to maintain a film between the silk net and support fabric, and for its quick application. Solvent reactivation was not pursued as an option given the large quantities of solvent that would be required and the associated health risks and precautions necessary.

Assessing and testing materials and techniques As Hillyer describes in the previous case study, textile adhesive treatments have been refined by learning from the successes and failures of previous treatments. To inform the choices made for the 317

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conservation of this silk net dress, the authors consulted two similar Regency-era silk net dresses from the Museum of London (MOL) collection that had undergone a comparable adhesive treatment in the 1990s (Hartog & Tinker, 1998). The conservators were also consulted. The MOL dresses were conserved using a 25% Vinamul® 3252 adhesive film on nylon net, applied by heated suction and finished with minimal supplementary stitching using Piper’s silk. The degree of stitching varied from dress to dress. However, the conservation records and the conservators described some of their choices as stemming from very tight timelines; in some cases, the supplementary stitching was to be applied post-exhibition due to inadequate conservation time in the exhibition planning schedule (Hartog & Tinker, 1998). After a period of roughly two decades, the support fabric was still intact and serving its purpose; there was no visible delamination and discolouration. However, some areas of the dresses were sticking to the packing tissue and had accumulated dust. The silk net felt brittle, but the conservators mentioned that the hand of the silk net had felt like this prior to treatment. Generally, it was thought that the MOL adhesive treatments were well executed and had aged well. To further understand the relationship between the chosen adhesive, support fabric, and artefact, mock-ups were created using Vinamul® 3252 cast onto nylon net and heat reactivated onto historic starched silk press point net sourced from the V&A’s Textile and Fashion Conservation Studio’s didactic collection. Percentages of 10%, 15%, 20%, and 25% Vinamul® 3252 weight per volume (w/v) in deionized water were tested. These mock-up samples were empirically analysed using SEM to understand how delivery of the adhesive onto the net differed at each percentage (e.g., how well the yarns were coated and if adhesive had formed a fill in the voids of the net), and also to visualize the degree of bond sites in net-on-net applications. Generally, SEM images of the 10% film showed the adhesive to be very thin and stringy as if it was being stretched. In contrast, the 25% showed a more thickly applied adhesive with a webbed film formation at cross-points of the nylon fibres (i.e., partial filling of the voids). There was not much difference between the 15% and 20% films; however, the 20% performed best with the peel test while also maintaining great flexibility. The decision was reached to use a 20% adhesive and to apply a significant amount of supplementary conservation stitching. With the majority of work being completed by a Kress conservation fellow, there was no time pressure on the project – a consideration noted by Hartog and Tinker (1998). Additional supplementary stitching was particularly important because pressure-sensitive dispersion adhesive films can creep when used in structural applications (Down, 2015). Given that this dress was to be displayed on a mannequin for at least five years, it was important that the adhesive-applied support fabric would be able to withstand the pressures that would be put on it.

Support fabrics and adhesives for silk woven trims The silk woven trims, which are totally embellished with split straw work and glass-wax beads, also required a full support fabric backing. Silk crepeline ribbon was selected as a substrate as it had a compatible weave structure to the silk woven trim, and did not contribute much bulk or weight. A mixture of 20% Lascaux 303HV and 498HV (1:2), a poly(ethyl acrylate)/poly(methyl methacrylate) copolymer, w/v in deionized water was selected as the adhesive for its physical, working, and aging properties. The larger quantity of 498HV, which has a Tg higher than room temperature, formed a dry film that is less elastic than a 1:1 quantity and gave the desired strength for the applied embellishments. Lascaux 303HV:498HV mixture has a slightly lower heat reactivation temperature than the melting point (mp) of the wax in the glass beads, which was identified as beeswax (mp around 65°C, partially soluble in acetone and ethanol) with Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy. It was felt that the use of a heated micro-spatula was easier to control than solvent vapour reactivation and would therefore pose less risk to the wax interior of the beads. 318

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Supplementary stitching threads Polyester threads pulled from Stabilitex fabric were used for the supplementary stitching throughout the net and were chosen for their transparency, strength, and good colour match. Polyester Gütermann Skala thread was used for the laid couching over the dense straw braids along the trim. It was chosen for its semi-transparent qualities and the compatibility of its strength with the wiry nature of the straw braidwork.

Deconstructing the dress It was essential to achieve a good bond to reduce the potential need for retreatment in the future due to a failed adhesive (Tinker, 2011). In order to get a good bond, the dress had to be partially deconstructed so that the tight ruching could be relaxed and flattened, and so that the applied support fabric could extend into the seamlines (e.g., the horizontal waistline where the skirt meets the bodice). The latter would ensure that the nylon net support fabric was taking the weight from the weak silk net. Although this involved removing original elements of the dress, sacrificing the original stitching on select seamlines was necessary for treatment to be carried out and this would extend the object’s life. It would not have been possible to apply the adhesive support fabric to the silk net with the dress in a three-dimensional form; the support would not have offered full coverage if it did not extend into the seams. Prior to deconstruction, the seams to be unpicked were photo-documented, and colour-coded tacking threads were applied to aid in the reconstruction process. Measurements of the entire dress were also taken to allow for the drafting of a pattern. The deconstruction was as follows: the two trims and the flounce were removed (Figure 4.8.3), the bodice was removed from the skirt, the

Figure 4.8.3 Detail of the flounce removed from the net dress, during treatment. The effect of the heavy straw embroidery and yellow glass beads can be seen in the adjacent large horizontal splits. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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sleeves were removed from the bodice, and one vertical side seam on the skirt was unpicked so that the skirt panel could lie flat.

Humidification and blocking The dress could not be completely wetted out without disturbing the wheat starch finish on the press point silk net. This could potentially cause distortion of the net structure, and also swell the straw-work and wax within the beads. An ultrasonic mister with deionized water was used to humidify all elements of the dress. Sandbag weights were placed on top of the straw-work trims for several weeks. Insect pins were used to block out the silk net and realign the splits. The skirt was completed panel by panel using bright thread guidelines taped to the table to keep the net straight. The bodice and sleeves required foam and/or tissue supports to maintain the three-dimensional shapes during blocking; the sleeves were blocked one side at a time.

Application of adhesives Casting the adhesive onto the support fabric The patterns taken before the dress was deconstructed were adjusted when the dress was disassembled and blocked out. They were used to cut the nylon net support fabric and to prepare the underdress (outlined below). The pre-cut nylon net pieces were placed on top of the polyethylene covered table and lightly misted with deionized water. This encouraged contact between the net and the polyethylene and allowed the net to be blocked out correctly. To create a more uniform film, a humidity chamber was built over the table using polyethylene sheeting and an ultrasonic humidifier. This maintained a slightly raised humidity to slow the drying of the adhesive. The adhesive was applied to the net using a polyurethane foam roller. Adhesive films were left to dry for 12–24 hours.

Nylon net support fabric: reactivating adhesive on flat parts of the dress Following experimentation with test samples, a heated suction table was used with the temperature set at 70°C and pressure at 40 millibars. A timer was set for one minute to control the reactivation of the support fabric to the skirt panels. Prior to transferring from the worktable to the heated suction table, the adhesive-coated support fabric was rolled onto the silk net skirt panels and positioned in place using insect pins, and then the excess support fabric was trimmed back. In some areas where there was significant loss to the silk net ground or where there were many friable threads of net, the support fabric was lightly hand tacked with the heat spatula to reduce the risk of shifting during transfer onto the heated suction table. The silk net skirt panels were positioned right side up on the heated suction table for adhesive reactivation (i.e., the nylon net support fabric was between the table and the artefact).

Nylon net support fabric: reactivating adhesive on three-dimensional parts of the dress A spatula heated to ~70°C was used to apply the nylon net support fabric to the sleeves, bodice, and flounce. Due to the three-dimensional nature of these pieces, which were not completely deconstructed, some areas required unique applications. For the darts on the bodice, the nylon net

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support fabric was sliced down the middle of the dart, one side was fed under the dart and one side over, and secured with a zig-zag stitch. A soft bridge apparatus to hold and manipulate the sleeve was built out of padding and Plastazote® foam so that the net support fabric could be applied in the round.

Silk crepeline support fabric: reactivating adhesive on woven silk trims The silk net fragments and all embellishments were first positioned onto the adhesive support fabric and then stitched into place with sequential rows of laid couching. The stitching was carried out using a fine curved needle, and with the trim flat on the workbench. Despite this, a certain amount of movement and flexing took place with handling and stitching. For this reason, the reactivation of the adhesive was carried out secondarily to the stitching, to ensure that the activated film was not disrupted, causing the layers to separate. A heated spatula was used to reactivate the adhesive. To avoid crushing the glass beads during this process, a support with a soft cushioned inset channel was created out of a rigid foam block.

Supplementary stitching Supplementary stitching was applied to the silk and nylon net using a variety of stitches. Running stitch lines, spaced 10mm apart, traced the edges of the splits, narrowing to 5mm wide spacing in severely friable areas (e.g., the bust and shoulders of the bodice). Staggered ‘tramlines’ of open running stitch were applied to the skirt panels to ensure that the support fabric remained in place should the adhesive fail, providing an all-over secondary support. Zig-zag stitching was used in three different areas: over the seamlines, where the support fabrics joined, and all finishing edges. The trims required sequential rows of laid couching as described above.

Reconstructing the dress The dress was put back together following construction notes and tacking threads that were applied during deconstruction. The thread chosen to restitch the seams was similar in colour, thickness, and ply to the original stitching thread. To better differentiate the conservation thread from the original, a polyester was selected rather than cotton. Stitching through the silk ribbon trims followed the original stitching holes. Stitching through the silk net followed the size and spacing of the original stitches. The bodice was reconstructed first. Flounces and trims were attached to the skirt before stitching the proper right back seam and then reattaching to the bodice.

Mount making and storage In consultation with the responsible curator, an underdress was constructed using the patterns taken from the dress. Staying true to the design aesthetic of the Regency era, the underdress was created from an off-white silk habutai fabric, the colour being a sympathetic choice, allowing the embroidery and embellishments to stand out. The net dress was to be displayed over the underdress on a bustform, padded to the correct shape, and with underpinnings created by V&A display specialists (Figure 4.8.4). It was advised that post-display the dress should be stored with the underdress in situ. The underdress would prevent any physical damage that could result from the manipulation of the dress during dressing and undressing, and also prevent the dress from potentially sticking

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Figure 4.8.4 Net dress, front three-quarter view, on the display mannequin after conservation. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

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to itself or to internal tissue padding when in long-term storage. Recommendations to collections management staff were made to protect the dress from potential dust accumulation, which could adhere to any excess adhesive, by keeping it on closed display and storage (e.g., in a vitrine case and a storage box).

Conclusion Following conservation, the dress is in good, stable condition. It has been fully backed onto a new nylon net support fabric, giving it a strength and robustness not obvious from its appearance. Losses in the historic silk net are visually infilled, and the weight of the heavy decoration has been transferred to the new net support. In 2021 the dress was installed into the V&A’s Europe 1600–1815 galleries for the public to enjoy, and high-resolution images were made available on the online catalogue. Having carefully evaluated the condition of the silk net dress and the compatibility of conservation materials and techniques, this highly interventive treatment was the only option to preserve and transform the dress for study and display in its intended form. Developments in textile adhesive treatments at the V&A have moved away from the use of nylon net as a support fabric. However, through assessing past treatments, mock-ups, and the outcome of this conservation campaign, this case study demonstrates that a net-on-net adhesive treatment can be an effective method especially for preserving textiles with a very low thread density. Having taken over 400 hours to complete, the time-consuming processes in this treatment could only be carried out in the museum context by a funded conservation position which afforded time for research, experimentation, and extensive practical work.

Acknowledgements Lauren Osmond’s contributions to the work here described were completed during a conservation fellowship generously funded by the Samuel H. Kress foundation. The authors wish to thank Alex Ball (Imaging and Analysis Centre, Natural History Museum, London), Emily Austin (Museum of London), Zenzie Tinker (Zenzie Tinker Conservation Ltd.), Frances Hartog and Elizabeth-Anne Haldane (V&A), Joanne Hackett (V&A), and display specialist Gill MacGregor (V&A).

References Down, J. (2015). The evaluation of selected poly(vinyl acetate) and acrylic adhesives: a final research update. Studies in Conservation, 60(1), 33–54. Farrell, J. (2007). Identifying handmade and machine lace. Dress and Textile Specialists in partnership with the Victoria and Albert Museum. Available from: https://dressandtextilespecialists.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/Identifying-Handmade-Lace-and-Machine-Lace.pdf Hackett, J. & Hillyer, L. (2019). Adhesives in textile conservation: a survey of 60 years of adhesive use at the V&A. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned: textile conservation, then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau, Canada (pp. 200–218). NATCC. Hartog, F. & Tinker, Z. (1998). Sticky dresses – the re-conservation of three early 19th century dresses. In J. Lewis (Ed.) Adhesive treatments revisited. Postprints, UKIC TS Third Adhesives Forum (pp. 12–26). London: UKIC. Hillyer, L., Tinker, Z. & Singer, P. (1997). Evaluating the use of adhesives in textile conservation. Part I: an overview and survey of current use. The Conservator, 21, 37–47. Horie, V. (2010). Materials for conservation: organic consolidants, adhesives and coatings. Second edition. Abingdon: Routledge.

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Lauren Osmond, Katy Smith Karsten, I. & Kerr, N. (2011). Peel strength of silk and nylon textiles adhered to sheer support fabrics. In Proceedings of Symposium 2011. Adhesives and consolidants for conservation: research and applications (pp. 385–404). Ottawa: CCI. Karsten, I. & Vuori, J. (2015). Choosing adhesives and/or consolidants for conservation treatments: textiles. In J. Down (Ed.), Adhesive compendium for conservation (pp. 149–155). Ottawa: CCI. Tinker, Z. (2011). Pragmatism with past adhesive treatments. In Proceedings of Symposium 2011. Adhesives and consolidants for conservation: research and applications (pp. 503–516). Ottawa: CCI.

Note * Published in 2024.

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4.9 THE RESTORATION OF THE TAPESTRY BATTLE OF RONCEVAUX FROM THE MUSEO NAZIONALE DEL BARGELLO IN FLORENCE* A bridge between tradition and innovation Marta Cimò, Claudia Cirrincione Introduction: context and methodology This case study describes the restoration of a large tapestry fragment from the second half of the fifteenth century, carried out by the Tapestries and Carpets Conservation Department and Restoration Laboratory of the Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro (OPD) in Florence. The OPD Laboratories are part of the Italian Conservation and Research Institute of the Ministero della Cultura. In Italy there is only one other similar government-led institute, the Istituto Centrale per il Restauro (ICR) in Rome, which specializes in textiles but not in tapestries and carpets. Textile conservation projects are led by these two government institutes and by other important centres of conservation, private, semi-private and public. The OPD develops conservation projects and research for Italian public and private cultural heritage, focusing on outstanding works of art and artefacts mainly belonging to government museums. The institute’s long-term goal is to improve previous restoration techniques and create new conservation materials and strategies, respecting the Italian principles of restoration defined in the twentieth century by scholars Cesare Brandi and Umberto Baldini (Brandi, 1977; Baldini, 1988; Ciatti, 2009). As a research institute, the OPD has the opportunity to invest resources and dedicate time to developing individual projects. The institute consists of 11 highly specialized departments, including the Textile and Leather Conservation Department and the Scientific Laboratory. The latter has a fundamental role in assisting all departments to analyse materials and artefacts. The Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche also offers the possibility of studying other aspects of artworks, thanks to a long-standing productive collaboration with the OPD. Founded in 1986, the Tapestries and Carpets Conservation Department (the Lab)1 has a long experience of tapestry conservation; the OPD restored the gorgeous masterpiece of the series Story of Joseph, designed by Bronzino, Pontormo and Salviati and commissioned by Cosimo I de’ Medici, (Innocenti, 2013a),2 as well as many other important ancient tapestries from several Italian museums (Innocenti, 2016).

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Since the foundation of the Lab, its conservation methodology has undergone a constant evolution. It has applied both conservative (Innocenti & Bacci, 1999; Bacci, 2015) and integrative approaches, according to the needs of the artwork, in agreement with the owner and the Soprintendenza, the Italian authority for the protection and safeguarding of cultural heritage. The Lab is part of an Italian conservation framework in which the use of both these methodologies can be found. Once the approach is selected, different techniques are chosen, after careful evaluation of many aspects such as the artefact’s condition (including previous interventions), display options, available funds and aesthetic aspects of the work of art. If the integrative technique is selected, the missing areas are infilled by inserting warps and the spaced reweaving of wefts (Innocenti, 2013a: 109–126). This method, called ‘loosely woven weft’, allows conservators the advantages of both respecting the original fibres and allowing the treatment of the restored areas to be recognisable. In the last 20 years a specific integration strategy has been carried out, in terms of execution technique and aesthetic choices. These working methods were applied in the Battle of Roncevaux case study and are explained in further detail below. This challenging intervention was conducted from November 2013 to January 2021, thanks to the collaboration of 25 specialized staff experts, including two scientists, nine conservators, five art historians and seven students.3

The case study The medieval tapestry Battle of Roncevaux (Figure 4.9.1) is a large textile fragment crafted in the second half of the fifteenth century, of French/Flemish manufacture, in all probability from Tournai. Belonging to the Carrand Collection of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello in Florence (inv. 2196C), the tapestry is about 3.9 metres high and 4.6 metres wide. It is part of the set of the Stories of Charlemagne and Roland, of which at least nine other fragments are preserved throughout the world, including one at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London and another at the Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire in Brussels. According to scholar Marthe Crick-Kuntziger, the Bargello fragment is thought to be part of a larger tapestry about 13 metres long (Crick-Kuntziger, 1931). Studies of the surviving fragments allow us to deduce that the set was replicated at least three times. In fact there are three editions of the Battle of Roncevaux, and the tapestry in the Bargello is probably the earliest edition (Michel, 2017). Made of wool and silk, this tapestry represents an important medieval artwork, one of the few medieval masterpieces present in Italian museum collections. The hanging depicts the initial phase of the Roncevaux battle between Christians and Saracens narrated in the epic poem La Chanson de Roland, composed in the late eleventh or early twelfth century. A complex tangle of horses and knights is portrayed, with a total of 55 characters. Six of these characters can be identified by the inscriptions on their armour: Godebue (King of Frisia), Baligant (Emir of Babylon), Marsille (King of the Saracens), Tyery, Olivier and Rolant (Paladins of Charlemagne). Roland is the figure in the right foreground on a prancing horse, holding the sword Durlindana; he is fighting the Emir of Babylon, also on horseback. Two cartouches in the upper border describe the scene through verses in old French vernacular; originally there were probably eight cross-rhymed decasyllables (Crick-Kuntziger, 1956: 17–19). The artwork arrived at the Bargello through the Carrand donation to the museum. In 1948 it was moved to Turin to be shown at the Palazzo Madama Torino exhibition (Viale Ferrero & Viale, 1952: 16–21). In 1950 the tapestry was moved to the Galleria degli Uffizi Gabinetto Restauri for restoration. Thanks to a photograph,4 we know that at least until 1981 the Battle of Roncevaux was displayed as fine art in what is now called the Islamic Room of the Bargello, on the left wall next to the tapestry Final Assault on Jerusalem (also from the Carrand Collection). In 2006 the 326

The restoration of the tapestry Battle of Roncevaux

Figure 4.9.1 The Battle of Roncevaux tapestry: above, after removing the ancient and heavy lining and wet cleaning; below, after restoration. © Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro, courtesy of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence.

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OPD was commissioned to carry out a survey of the only three huge tapestries preserved in the Bargello Museum, two of them from the medieval period. The museum no longer exhibited these tapestries due to their state of conservation. This project was supervised by Clarice Innocenti5 and Maria Grazia Vaccari,6 and directed by Gianna Bacci7 with the support of students from the OPD Conservation Course. The intention was to assess the conservation state of the artworks in order to improve their storage conditions. It was on this occasion that the idea of planning the restoration of the Bargello’s medieval tapestries was conceived, allowing them to be displayed in rotation. The Bargello Museum has a copious textile collection but few tapestries; for this reason it was decided to invest major resources to fulfil this outstanding project. The museum’s purpose was to enhance these wonderful artworks and make them available for viewing, through the recovery of the physical state and, where possible, of the appearance of the art object. Both these tapestries were huge fragments in poor condition; the Final Assault on Jerusalem was in better condition than the Battle of Roncevaux, the reason why it was decided to restore it first. This artwork arrived at the Lab for intervention in 2007. It was the subject of two dissertations in 2008 and its restoration involved more than five years of work (Cimò, 2013; Innocenti, 2013b). The excellent results obtained with the restoration of the Final Assault on Jerusalem laid the groundwork for undertaking the challenge of restoring the tapestry of the Battle of Roncevaux, which was in worse condition. The restoration of the Battle of Roncevaux (the Battle) began in November 2013.

State of conservation The Battle was in very poor condition as seen in Figure 4.9.1, above. The whole tapestry was affected by severe widespread capillary degradation, consisting of lacunae, missing wefts and two large cuts. The entire surface and interstices of the weave were affected by intense dust particles that darkened the image and dried the fibres, accelerating degradation. All through the original weaving, numerous unsewn and previously mended slits were detected. The artwork’s colouring had suffered a decrease in intensity due to photodegradation by prolonged exposure to light. The tapestry was found to be fully stitched to a canneté fabric lining. The jagged, irregular edges corresponded to unravelled and particularly fragile wefts, probably due to cuts to the tapestry edges at an earlier period. The perimeter had numerous large missing areas, especially at the corners. Some areas were poorly mended; this was the reason for many of the weaving deformations that had caused the loss of orthogonality of the original warps and wefts. At the edges of the lacunae, large portions of degraded weaving were folded back to redefine the margins. The whole support had been painted in the areas of loss with a tempera paint, including the tapestry itself in the perimeter of the missing areas. Throughout the tapestry there were previous ‘integrative’ interventions, made in brown wool yarns. These areas of reweaving had, in many cases, undergone chromatic discolouration, deformation of structure and loss of orthogonality.

Preliminary studies and cleaning The first step in the preliminary study was the photographic documentation of the state of conservation in visible light and transmitted light, to help comprehend the microdegradation. The ancient heavy lining was removed because it created tensions and deformations; it was necessary to remove the repairs stitched through the support. The removal of the lining allowed the opening of the folds at the edges and the recovery of several centimetres of original weaving. Before and 328

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after the removal of the repairs, surface cleaning was performed on the artwork; vacuuming tests permitted the conservators to establish the suction parameters. The objective was to remove dirt that had adhered to the entire surface. The Scientific Laboratory led diagnostic research to identify the nature of the fibres using stereoscopic and optical microscopy. Samples taken from the back of the artwork were analysed: the warp is a wool fibre, the wefts are made of wool and silk fibres, whereas cotton, linen and artificial threads were used for the repairs. The heavy lining was made of jute warps and linen wefts. Before starting the restoration, all information obtained was officially registered and documented: an Identity and State of Artefact form was filed along with graphic mapping, useful for recording and sharing information over the long term. Following the surface cleaning procedure, it was deemed necessary to perform further cleaning by immersion in a 0.02% solution of non-ionic surfactant. To do this, the lacunae were supported with a plastic net. This operation was essential both to assist in moving the artwork and to avoid the loss of yarns. Another important and crucial step is checking the stability of the dyes to avoid risks during cleaning. The Lab stresses some yarn samples at high temperature, checking that the dyes do not release colour. All the repairs made with the purple cotton yarn lost colour during stability testing (Cimò & Tosini, 2017) and needed to be removed. After that, the wet cleaning could begin. This process eliminates dirt and helps restore lost elasticity and softness to the fibres. It is carried out in the wash bath with purified water and consists of a series of steps (Innocenti, 2013a). The assistance of scientists, throughout the whole process of immersion, was fundamental in defining the correct way to conduct the cleaning to minimize any risks.

Consolidation: integration of lacunae The stabilization of missing areas depends on the conservation condition and on the extent and location of losses, and varies from tapestry to tapestry. For this case study the Lab applied the methodology and technique developed during the Final Assault consolidation, selected together with the Bargello’s staff. Using the integrative technique for the Battle allowed a remarkable aesthetic recuperation and the recovery of a general ‘potential unity’ (Brandi, 1977). It was possible to apply this technique thanks to the tapestry condition, the technical features of the weaving and the shape of the areas of loss. This methodology enabled the Lab to restore the structure and at the same time to recover the clarity of the design, employing only tapestry needles and threads with slow but long-lasting handwork. The materials used for conservation were of the same sort as the original, in order to respect ‘the principle of compatibility’ and were prepared in the Lab. Complex lightfast synthetic metal dyes with good wash-fastness were utilized, both for wefts and warps. The restoration yarns were dyed in a way that guarantees a balanced match between modern and ancient materials that is certain to last agelessly, well into the future. The consolidation consisted of two steps: the insertion of new warps and the reweaving of wefts, without the use of a support. Rewarping respected the original warp count (5–6 yarns/10mm): dyed wool warps8 were inserted into the tapestry around the losses. The new warps were extended by about 10–20mm into the undamaged area of the tapestry; they were secured by passing the new warp through the channel of the original. The new wefts consolidated the original structure with the integrative technique of ‘spaced reweaving’. The thread count of the new weft (a medium value of 10–12 wefts/10mm) is lower than the original (16–20 wool wefts/10mm; 24–28 silk wefts/10mm), so that it is possible to recognize and differentiate the integration treatment closeup. In the field of the integration method, a particular technique has been developed called chromatic mélange. It allows the lacunae to be filled, without reconstructing the details of the scene. 329

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Figure 4.9.2 Detail of the tapestry: above, before treatment; below, after treatment. The shoulder of the character Gondebue was consolidated using the integrative technique called ‘loosely woven weft’; three areas of chromatic mélange are juxtaposed. © Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro, courtesy of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence.

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However, by exploiting the juxtaposition of two different areas of chromatic mélange, it is possible to redefine the overall pattern of forms as seen in Figure 4.9.2. In this case, before inserting the mélange into the missing areas, the perimeter wefts were consolidated by inserting new wefts about 10–15mm into the original; therefore, the mélange is completely reversible. These areas of chromatic mélange are made of two wool yarns9 or two silk yarns;10 a mélange of both silk and wool yarns has only been used on rare occasions. In lacunae where it was not possible to identify the detail of the missing areas, only one chromatic mélange was inserted into the pre-consolidated area. In this context, the colour chosen was the prevalent tone surrounding the loss. This technique is called ‘chromatic prevalence’, and it was used, for example, to consolidate the huge central lacuna located under the two inscriptions. The weak previously stitched slits were consolidated and the open slits were re-sewn with cotton thread11 in a button-hole stitch from the front.

Treatment of the edges, support, galloon and lining The integrative approach was used for all the missing areas within the tapestry, maintaining their uneven edges. The irregularities and gaps along the outer edges were reinforced by a new edging weft matching the perimeter colour. This weft was inserted into the weave, every three or four warps to anchor it. This fastening thread, as seen in Figure 4.9.3, was invisible both from the front and the back. The tapestry was supported by 20 sections of linen fabric,12 each one metre wide and of different heights, to cover the whole back. The sections were seamed, to the height of the tapestry, using very fine cotton thread.13 This operation gave greater stability to the tapestry. The support was shaped to follow the irregularity of the edges. After the full support of the back, the perimeter was stitched onto a blue galloon as seen in Figure 4.9.4. This tapestry, like the Final Assault, was a special case, in which the galloon functioned as both support and frame for the fragment. The intention was to make the perimeter stable and to permit a future hypothetical replacement of the

Figure 4.9.3 Diagram of the detail of the consolidation of the outer edges. The fastening thread runs within the original structure, reinforcing the original wefts. © Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro.

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Figure 4.9.4 Above, the back of the tapestry: the new support and galloon are visible. Below, a diagram showing how the sections of the galloon are joined, with measurements in metres. © Opificio delle Pietre Dure e Laboratori di Restauro, courtesy of the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence.

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galloon. Further restorations, if needed, could be done by disassembling the grid of fastenings, without compromising the conservation state of the artwork. New galloons were woven on the loom in the Lab. The new warp is a wool yarn,14 similar to the original; the wefts are also wool yarns15 of different hues of blue, to obtain a noticeable ‘vibrating’ chromatic effect rather than a flat colour. Designing the new galloons was a challenge. To avoid making a single heavy galloon, it was decided to create a new galloon composed of seven parts of different sizes, as seen in Figure 4.9.4, below. The gaps in the edges were analysed to select the size of the new textiles. Each portion was woven individually and later assembled with the others in the correct position. There were seven joins to be made: four for the corners and three for the horizontal galloons. An anchoring system between the seven parts was tested so that it was structurally strong and aesthetically pleasant. Finally, cotton sateen16 bands were sewn on the back of the galloon and tapestry perimeter to protect and secure the edges and to aid in moving the piece. A strip of the loop side of Velcro® was machine-sewn to a cotton strip.17 The cotton and Velcro® band was then hand-sewn to the upper part of the tapestry with horizontal and vertical rows of stitches. A cotton sateen lining, covering the whole back of the tapestry, was secured to the lower side of the hanging band as a dust cover.

Conclusion The conservation project of two medieval tapestries carried out by the OPD and the Museo Nazionale del Bargello enhanced two remarkable masterpieces and enabled them to be displayed once again. The intent was to recover the ultimate purpose for which these artworks were created: for the public to enjoy two of the most important medieval tapestries of the Italian collections. This work was made possible thanks to the ability of the OPD to conduct conservation projects that focus on a single yet extraordinary artwork, such as the Battle. Every work of art is a ‘patient’ to become acquainted with and then to know in great depth from both the historical and scientific points of view. This is why it is necessary to spend time analysing all the conservation aspects to optimize the future of the artefact. Attention should be paid not only to the action of restoration but also to the conditions in which the artwork will be conserved; the planned maintenance and monitoring of conservation parameters are the responsibility of the safeguarding and protection authorities in the form of the museum. The project of the Battle of Roncevaux offered the opportunity to improve conservation knowledge of medieval tapestries, as they are so different from later examples. This study was achieved thanks to in-depth bibliographic research and through comparison with the other fragments of the Battle, preserved in other museums. The restoration, which required over seven years to complete, enabled the recovery of the textile structure without sacrificing the aesthetic result, as seen in Figure 4.9.1, below. This involved a considerable financial commitment supported by public and private institutions.18 The project represented an ambitious challenge for the Lab to further develop the integrative methodology for the treatment of missing areas; such large lacunae had never been integrated before. It was also the occasion to develop a method for consolidating huge fragments, through research into a new use for the galloon. This case study is an excellent example of modern restoration through multidisciplinarity; the presence of many experts working together as a team was fundamental in obtaining an optimum final result.

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The medieval masterpieces the Battle of Roncevaux and the Final Assault on Jerusalem, now restored, are displayed vertically, in rotation, in the Museo Nazionale del Bargello’s Hall of Arms and Armour.

Acknowledgements The authors would like to acknowledge all the experts who made this intervention possible. The project directors: Gianna Bacci, Marco Ciatti, Ilaria Ciseri, Paola D’Agostino, Emanuela ­Daffra, Riccardo Gennaioli, Clarice Innocenti, Beatrice Paolozzi Strozzi and Sandra Rossi; the conservators and restoration collaborators: Costanza Albi, Rita Banci, Federica Favaloro, Martina ­Panuccio, Alice Papi, Patrizia Vaggelli and Rebecca Giulietti; the students and the interns: Chiara Biribicchi, Sara Bonadio, Elena Gualandris, Patrizia Labianca, Jasmine Sartor, Federica Ursino and Beatrice Campanella; the graphic designer Culturanuova S.R.L., especially Massimo Chimenti; and the photographers Luca Lupi and Giuseppe Zicarelli. The authors would also like to thank the Museo Nazionale del Bargello. Thanks to Kirste Milligan and Rita Banci for assistance in translating and editing the article.

References Bacci, G. (2015). Il restauro dell’arazzo in seta su disegno del Bachiacca [Restoration of the silk tapestry from a Bachiacca design]. OPD Restauro, 26, 319–328. Baldini, U. (1988). Teoria del restauro e unità di metodologia [Restoration theory and methodology unit]. Florence: Nardini. Brandi, C. (1977). Teoria del restauro [Restoration theory]. Second edition. Turin: Einaudi. Ciatti, M. (2009). Appunti per un manuale di storia e di teoria del restauro. Dispense per gli studenti [Notes for a handbook on the history and theory of restoration. Handouts for students]. Florence: Edifir. Cimò, M. (2013). L’Assalto Finale a Gerusalemme del Museo Nazionale del Bargello. Il restauro di un grande frammento di arazzo medievale [The Bargello National Museum’s Final Assault on Jerusalem. The restoration of a large fragment of medieval tapestry]. OPD Restauro, 24, 249–256. Cimò, M. & Tosini, I. (2017). Le indagini preliminari alla pulitura per immersione in soluzione acquosa dell’arazzo La Battaglia di Roncisvalle [Preliminary investigations into wet cleaning of the tapestry The Battle of Roncevaux]. OPD Restauro, 28, 193–202. Crick-Kuntziger, M. (1931). Les compléments de nos tapisseries gothiques. II. Un fragment inédit de la Bataille de Roncevaux [The complements of our gothic tapestries. II. An unpublished fragment of the Battle of Roncevaux]. Bulletin des Musées Royaux d’art et d’histoire, III, 104–113. Crick-Kuntziger, M. (1956). Épisodes de la Bataille de Roncevaux. Catalogue des tapisseries (XIVe au XVIIIe siècle) [Episodes from the Battle of Roncevaux. Catalogue of tapestries (14th to 18th century)]. Brussels: Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire de Bruxelles. Innocenti, C. (Ed.) (2013a). Gli arazzi con storie di Giuseppe ebreo per Cosimo I de’ Medici. Il restauro [The tapestries with Stories of Joseph for Cosimo I de’ Medici. The restoration]. Florence: Polistampa. Innocenti, C. (Ed.) (2013b). Un arazzo medievale del Museo del Bargello: l'Assalto Finale a Gerusalemme. Storia e restauro [A medieval tapestry from the Bargello Museum: The Final Assault on Jerusalem. ­History and restoration]. Florence: Edifir. Innocenti, C. (Ed.) (2016). Il restauro degli arazzi. Le Antologie di ‘OPD Restauro’ [The restoration of tapestries. The ‘OPD Restoration’ Anthologies]. Florence: Centro Di. Innocenti, C. & Bacci, G. (1999). La fermatura su supporto nel restauro degli arazzi [Fastening on support in tapestry restoration]. OPD Restauro, 10, 162–169. Michel, J. (2017). La tenture de Roland ou un puzzle de tapisseries en cours de reconstitution [The Roland tapestries or a puzzle of tapestries being reconstructed]. In G. Delmarcel (Ed.), L’Art de la Tapisserie. Tournai-Enghien-Audenarde [The art of tapestry. Tournai-Enghien-Audenarde] (pp. 121–139). Tournai: Wapica. Viale Ferrero, M. & Viale, V. (1952). Arazzi e tappeti antichi [Ancient tapestries and carpets]. Turin: ILTE.

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Notes * Published in 2024. 1 Located on the walkway of Palazzo Vecchio in Piazza Signoria, Florence, Italy. 2 From the Medici manufactory, 1545–1553. 3 Conservation courses in Italy are led by government institutes, universities and academies: both the OPD and the ICR offer diversified higher education conservation courses. During the five-year course of Conservation of Textile and Leather Materials, students acquire scientific and historical knowledge and practical restoration skills. 4 Photo negative n. 332546, dated 14 May 1981. Gabinetto Fotografico of the Gallerie degli Uffizi, exArchivio storico della Soprintendenza Speciale PSAE e per il Polo Museale della città di Firenze. 5 OPD’s Tapestries and Carpets Department Director until August 2016 and Supervisor of the Battle of Roncevaux project until June 2018. 6 Then Assistant Director at the Museo Nazionale del Bargello. 7 OPD’s Tapestries and Carpets Restorer Technical Director until 2016. 8 Wool yarn, S twist, linear density tex 125, 3-ply; wool yarn, S twist, linear density tex 63.97, 3-ply; wool yarn, S twist, linear density tex 97.24, 2-ply. 9 Wool yarn, S twist, linear density tex 38.13, 2-ply; wool yarn, S twist, linear density tex 17.24, 2-ply. 10 Shappe silk: silk yarn, S twist, linear density tex 16.502, 2-ply; Bourette silk: silk yarn, S twist, linear density tex 27.7, 2-ply. 11 Cotton thread, Z twist, linear density tex 18.42, 3-ply. 12 Plain-weave linen fabric, natural colour, thread counts 32 warps/10mm, 20 wefts/10mm. 13 Cotton thread, S twist, linear density tex 10.67, 2-ply. 14 Wool yarn, S twist, linear density tex 125, 3-ply. 15 Wool yarn, S twist, linear density tex 104.1, 2-ply. 16 Cotton sateen, beige colour, thread count: 80 warps/10mm, 36 wefts/10mm. 17 Plain-weave cotton fabric, natural colour, thread count: 28 warps/10mm, 13 wefts/10mm. 18 Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali (Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Opificio delle Pietre Dure), Cariaggi Lanificio S.p.A., Lions Club Firenze Bargello, Fondazione Cassa di Risparmio di Firenze.

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4.10 CONSERVATION OF AN AUBUSSON RUG* Melinda Hey, Louise Shewry, Kelly Grimshaw

Introduction The Landi Company, founded by Sheila Landi, previously Head of the Textile Section at the Victoria and Albert Museum, is a private limited company specializing in textile conservation, based at Burghley house, Stamford. The studio offers a full range of textile conservation services for individual clients, large institutions and historic houses. In the autumn of 2020, a large flat-weave Aubusson rug, measuring 3.66 metres wide × 6.60 metres long, came into The Landi Company studio for treatment. It presented the team with a challenge both in terms of its size and the extent of damage. A novel approach to its treatment was required, given that the combination of warp direction and size meant it could not be worked on with the company’s standard equipment. A major characteristic separating Aubusson’s tapestrystyle rugs from those of other makers is that they are woven with the warps running across the width rather than down the length. A fixed budget also dictated the extent of treatment. Discussion with conservators experienced with handling this type of object ensued, and ultimately a simple yet highly effective solution was found. In this paper, the Aubusson will be referred to as a rug rather than a carpet, as it is a moveable object rather than being fixed down in situ.

Aubusson The district of La Marche, central France, has produced textiles, now referred to as Aubusson, since the sixteenth century (Thomson, 1930; Campbell, 2006). Already famous for tapestries, rug manufacturing in Aubusson began in 1743 (Campbell, 2006) due to the growing popularity of Savonnerie designs for Louis XV. Originally, Savonnerie-designed rugs were for the king’s sole use, but his Intendant des Finances, Henri-Louis Orry de Fulvy, declared that Aubusson should start to produce rugs to feed the growing rise in their popularity amongst the French elite (­Thomson, 1930; Campbell, 2006). The two major towns associated with the manufacturing style of these rugs were Aubusson and Felletin; to distinguish between the two, objects woven in Aubusson had a blue galloon, while those in Felletin were brown (Thomson, 1930; Campbell, 2006).

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-39

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The name Aubusson has become synonymous with the flat-woven French rug technique used within the La Marche district, but two styles of rugs were produced there: knotted-pile, woven on vertical looms (Thomson, 1930), and tapestry-woven, introduced in the late 1760s, woven on horizontal looms (Campbell, 2006). Early products were, in the main, imitations of Turkish models, or later à grande mosaïque, which were of French style featuring a central medallion of flowers (Campbell, 2006). After production slowed during the nineteenth century, as baroque and neoclassical styles fell out of fashion, popularity rose again in the twentieth century due to the adoption of contemporary artistic styles such as cubism, art nouveau and art deco (Jarry, 1969; Campbell, 2006). The subject of this paper is a large tapestry-woven rug, dated to the early twentieth century, as suggested by its design and colour. Whilst still retaining the floral motifs and colour palette1 characteristic of earlier examples, the florals are combined with a geometric motif echoing the more contemporary design styles of the early twentieth century. It is constructed with a cotton warp and wool weft and finished with a narrow galloon in dark brown wool. The warp count ranges from 35–40 warps per 100mm.

Condition The rug had been in regular use and was heavily soiled, with much of the dirt compacted into the weave, cementing the fibres. Upon receipt, the rug was crumpled and badly stained in several places. A heavily stained and deteriorated lining was still partially attached to the back, holding in debris. Areas of weft had worn away, probably due to footfall and friction. The brown wool in particular had degraded, resulting in further loss with numerous warps exposed, many of which were broken. Damage was more concentrated at one end. Old repairs were widespread, some in the form of crude laid couching and others by stitching through to patches of thick cotton or linen scrim. Many of these repairs were causing distortion. Some areas had been professionally rewoven, although the colours used were poorly matched, possibly due to their fading at a different rate to the original yarns. Multiple threads remained from previous linings and efforts of repair. Given the level of damage seen, the number of woven slits was minimal, probably due to the rug’s method of construction. Normally, the joins between different coloured wefts in tapestry weaving create slits which are often stitched together, giving rise to inherent weakness in the structure. In Aubusson weaving, the warps run the width rather than the length, resulting in fewer colour changes and therefore fewer joins.

General approach The rug was conserved within the framework of British Conservation Standards B/560 (BSI, 2022) and The Institute of Conservation (Icon) Professional Standards and Ethical Guidance (Icon, 2020; 2022) with particular focus on Icon’s Standard 2: Conservation Options & Strategies and Professional Judgment & Ethics v, vi and xiv, which are concerned with the evaluation of conservation options. Treatment was undertaken in the knowledge that the rug would be placed back into a private room within a lived-in historic house, a ‘working’ environment. As such, the treatment would need to withstand significant footfall and require an interventive treatment option that involved large amounts of brick couching, rather than laid couching, to impart strength and stability. As an object of use, emphasis on pictorial design and definition, alongside stabilization, was crucial. Full

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reweaving of the design would not be carried out; however, a suggestion of design in the areas of loss would be inserted, restoring the fragmented rug to a unified whole. Currently the methodology for the treatment of tapestries, particularly within the UK, emphasizes pictorial redefinition alongside structural stabilization. These two techniques are combined through one methodology. Where the image has been altered by previous interventions and/or the loss of yarn is substantial, and where there remains evidence of the original intent, pictorial redefinition is commonly undertaken. This approach for tapestry conservation was adopted in the second half of the twentieth century (Marko, 2020). This balance works well and was adopted when planning the treatment of this rug. Rewarping would stabilize the object, whilst brick couching would maintain the appearance, design and structural integrity.

Methodology and equipment Due to the large size, the warp direction and the condition of the rug, it was impossible to tension the rug in the correct direction using the studio’s existing vertical tapestry frame. The usual practice is that woven textiles are rolled in the direction of the warp, but the frame was only 5m in length, falling 1.6m short of the 6.6m needed to tension the warps. Thus, an alternative novel and collaborative approach was required. Initially a straightforward treatment option to work on the rug flat was considered; however, brick couching was needed to return some aesthetic qualities and strength, which would have been difficult to achieve working with the rug flat against a surface. Access to the centre of the rug would have been extremely difficult, affecting the accuracy of stitching. The rug needed to be tensioned in the correct direction, in this case across its width. To enable brick couching, it was agreed that the rug needed to be elevated, so that both back and front were easily accessible. The warps needed to be tensioned whether horizontally or vertically, but suspending the rug would have led to a constant fight with gravity, both further pulling apart the warps and causing difficulty in creating equal tension across the rug. It became apparent that a horizontal frame would be an easier solution and require a smaller working space in which to evenly tension the warps. To keep costs down, a custom-made tapestry frame was not possible and so a solution needed to  be found by adapting existing studio equipment. Two pairs of wooden stands were used together to form a new horizontal tapestry frame, each supporting a roller. The stands were placed parallel to each other with a 1.8m gap. This setup allowed the rug to be tensioned, in the weft direction, between two rollers and elevated to allow working from both front and back. Aprons, approximately 4m wide and 1.5m long, made from an open leno-weave polypropylene (commonly used within the rug industry for backing), were attached to either end of the rug’s length, anchoring it to the two rollers (Figure 4.10.1, above). To tension the warps across the width, additional aprons were attached along the sides of the rug. The side aprons were held in place using wooden frameworks which attached to two large tables, placed end to end and clamped together to create one long table. The floor was marked to ensure they remained aligned. The table was placed between the parallel wooden stands supporting the two rollers (Figure 4.10.1, below). The two inexpensive wooden frameworks were created following consultation with a carpenter and engineer. Each framework consisted of two long struts of wood that hooked over the far edge of the table and were clamped to prevent the timber structure from twisting when the aprons were attached. At the front of each framework, a hinged solid plywood board sat between the table edge and the front roller. Hook Velcro® was stapled along the inner edge of the long struts 338

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Figure 4.10.1 Diagrams of the custom horizontal frame setup. Above: side view. Below: view from above. © The Landi Company.

and corresponding plywood boards (Figure 4.10.2, left). The gap between the roller and the table created a 0.5m workspace that allowed access both above and below the rug. The wooden frameworks allowed the side aprons to be anchored, maintaining even tension across the warps within the workspace between the roller and table edge. The table edge was padded to protect the rug when it was rolled across the table. Pipe lagging could have been used; however, for sustainability spare cardboard tubes were repurposed and proved just as effective. The side aprons were initially prepared using polypropylene; however, this fabric was found to have too much give to properly tension the width of the rug. Therefore, densely woven cotton satin was used as an alternative as it was known to have minimal elasticity. Two parallel strips of loop 339

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Figure 4.10.2 Left: detail of timber framework and plywood board, with hook Velcro® attached to the inner strut. Right: detail of the side aprons being stretched and attached to the Velcro® on the timber frameworks, creating tension across the warps in the working space. © The Landi Company.

Velcro® were stitched along the length of each side apron, on the outer edge. Two strips were used to accommodate both the varying width of the rug and any stretch in both the apron and the rug. The other edge of each side apron was stitched to the edge of the rug, and, as it was rolled, these were moved along accordingly (Figure 4.10.2, right).

Treatment Cleaning The lining was removed, and a vacuum test to monitor fibre loss was undertaken. Due to the fragility of the rug, from both mechanical and chemical degradation, care needed to be taken to avoid removing large amounts of fibre, especially of the brown wool, during this process. A fine layer of muslin was attached to the nozzle of the vacuum, and the rug was vacuumed front and back. The muslin was regularly checked, and when the ratio of fibres was greater than that of dirt, the vacuuming moved to the next section. The Aubusson would have benefitted from washing prior to treatment due to years of ingrained dirt. However, before consolidation the rug would have been too weak to withstand washing due to the risk of large losses of both warp and weft; the strain its own weight would have placed on it when wet would have damaged it further. Washing was to be reassessed after consolidation. However, areas of the rug were almost solid and too stiff to pass a needle through so required softening before stitching. As standard practice, a dye bleed test was carried out. The results suggested that one of the blue dyes may have been slightly fugitive. Although there was a slight risk, the dye bleed was not significant and it was decided spot cleaning could be carried out with preparation, quick drying and an appropriate water pH. Deionized water and a minimal amount of non-ionic surfactant were applied to particularly cemented areas and worked gently with a cotton terry towel. 340

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The surfactant was rinsed away with deionized water. The spot cleaning resulted in the stiff areas softening a little, enough to pass a needle through.

Consolidation and conservation A digital reconstruction of the rug’s pattern was created in Adobe Photoshop™ to help with recreating the design. There was no full pattern repeat. Whilst the geometric motifs repeated across the rug, the floral motifs surrounding the geometrics were randomly placed. Large amounts of wool yarn and various new colours of thread were needed for this project. To place an economic order, colour matching was carried out. Quantities of each colour were calculated, and any similar colours were amalgamated. Appletons™ wool and Gütermann™ 70 mara threads were used. All previous repairs were removed, including couching, poor reweaving which distorted the design and weave, inadequate slit stitching and applied patches. This allowed the rug to relax and be prepared for conservation. Both a measured centre and pictorial centre line were marked. Interestingly, the pictorial centre line was approximately 10mm from the measured centre line; thus, it could not be relied upon when framing up. As the rug was to be put back into use, a sturdy support fabric was required. The support lining would have a dual purpose: firstly, as a support for conservation stitching, and secondly, to encase the edges of the rug which had suffered significant loss. Creation Baumann Ultra V fabric was selected due to its ecological manufacture, dense weave and suitable Oddy test result. A sympathetic ochre colour was chosen to meet its dual purpose. The support fabric was gridded up by pulling threads at 290–330mm across the width, depending on the distortions in the rug versus the amount of ‘bag’, or excess, necessary in the support fabric to allow for movement without strain. Threads were also pulled along the length for the measured centre line, and two corresponding vertical lines at 915mm either side of the measured centre line. For efficiency and to avoid fabric wastage, the support fabric was cut with sufficient excess to turn over onto the front of the rug by 30mm on all edges. There was not enough room to include a roller for the support fabric beneath the main rollers holding the rug, as is often used for tapestry conservation. Therefore, with the rug face down on the table and tensioned with the side aprons to the custom timber frameworks, the support fabric was pinned into place. Four and a half widths of support fabric were pinned to the reverse of the rug sequentially, and each one attached to the previous width using a herringbone stitch. Having the rug laid face down on the table allowed for the right amount of ‘bag’ to be worked into each section of support fabric. Once fully pinned, the rug was placed right side up, and, using the workspace between the roller and the table, grid lines were stitched using running stitch across two warps on the front, fixing the support fabric in place. Vertical grid lines were stitched 900mm from either side of the measured centre line, and horizontal grid lines were stitched at 300mm intervals along the length of the rug, 22 rows in total. Areas of loss were rewarped using a cotton yarn of similar gauge to the original warps. Either full warps were inserted for lost warps or weaver’s knots were used to reattach broken warps. Weak areas and splits were pinned and pulled together with thread to realign the warps. Large distorting slits were stitched together. Two forms of couching were used: brick couching and laid couching. Brick couching was applied in large areas of loss to add strength and reinstate the design (Figure 4.10.3). Laid couching was predominantly preventive, being used on areas that were weak and at risk of future deterioration. Although the rug would have benefitted from brick couching across its entirety, given that it was going back into use, laid couching was less labour intensive, allowing the project to meet the deadline and fall within the fixed budget. Three conservators completed this part of the treatment over a five-month period. 341

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Figure 4.10.3 Left, detail of damaged area; right, the same area after support with brick couching stitching. © The Landi Company.

Washing Following consolidation, the rug was considered strong enough for washing. Washing was carried out with deionized water only, and sponges were used to help push the deionized water through the rug, encouraging the shifting of dirt. The single blue colour that had caused concern proved to be non-fugitive during washing. Once washed, the rug was tented under tension to allow air to circulate and speed up the drying process.

Further conservation Once dry, a thorough inspection was undertaken across the entire rug and supplementary conservation stitching was added where necessary. Following the completion of conservation stitching, attention was turned to the edges; these needed to be protected as much of the galloon was missing. As planned, the support fabric was turned to the front of the rug by 30mm and stitched through all layers. This secured the edges and was also aesthetically pleasing.

Lining A sturdy off-white coutil cotton2 was selected for the outer lining. Due to the sheer size of the rug, it could not be entirely rolled out to attach the lining along its length; therefore, the lining had to be 342

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attached across its width. The lining was not stitched together prior to attachment as it would have been too heavy and unwieldy to handle as one piece. Instead, it was attached to the rug in sections, and each section attached to the previous one with a slipstitch (Figure 4.10.4). The lining was stitched to the interlining at 600mm intervals across the rug with a running stitch, making sure not to stitch through to the front. To help reduce movement between the rug and the lining, the lining was more firmly attached by stitching at right angles along the three vertical grid lines through all three layers: lining, support fabric and rug. Finally, the lining was further stitched through all three layers 10mm from the outer edges.

Discussion The conservation of this rug presented some challenges regarding its setup, but the aim of the treatment and the requisite result were always clear. The rug needed to be stable, and the restoration of the design was essential to maintain the overall appearance. It was apparent from the outset that this treatment had to satisfy the balance between conservation as a purely structural support and the need for design definition which in some areas proved challenging. By recreating the missing areas and inserting an impression of the design, we maintained the rug’s original character while making it fit for purpose. The method used to carry out the treatment was regarded as a success. The rug’s immense size meant that working as a team was essential. Collaborating with conservators, a carpenter and an

Figure 4.10.4 The lining being attached to the reverse in sections by Melinda Hey and Kelly Grimshaw. © The Landi Company.

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engineer to come up with solutions throughout the project proved beneficial, giving a different and successful perspective on the treatment approach. The equipment used was largely repurposed from existing workshop equipment and tools, helping to work to a fixed budget and ensuring a sustainable approach. The equipment solution enabled the team to work on and manoeuvre the large rug with ease and efficiency. The adaptable equipment can be kept and used for the treatment of another Aubusson rug or other projects. Whilst the design of the framework used in the treatment proved relatively simple, the thought process and collaboration required to reach this solution was far more complex.

Acknowledgments The authors would like to express their thanks to Sheila Landi, Ksynia Marko and Mark Davies.

References BSI (British Standards Institution) (2022). B/560 – Conservation of tangible cultural heritage. Standards ­Development.Available from: https://standardsdevelopment.bsigroup.com/committees/50001857#published Campbell, G. (2006). The Grove encyclopedia of decorative arts. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hagan, E. & Poulin, J. (2021) Statistics of the early synthetic dye industry. Heritage Science, 9(33). Icon (2020). Icon professional standards. Available from: https://www.icon.org.uk/resources/resources-forconservation-professionals/standards-and-ethics/icon-­professional-standards.html Icon (2022). Icon ethical guidance. Available from: https://www.icon.org.uk/resources/resources-for-­ conservation-professionals/standards-and-ethics/icon-ethical-guidance.html Jarry, M. (1969). The rugs of Aubusson. Leigh on Sea: F. Lewis Publishers. Marko, K. (2020). Woven tapestry: guidelines for conservation. London: Archetype and the National Trust. Thomson, W.G. (1930). A history of tapestry: from the earliest times until the present day. London: Hodder and Stoughton.

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 It is interesting to note that the blue dyed wool yarn appears too vivid to be indigo, suggesting that it may be a synthetic dye. Synthetic dyes were not produced until 1856 (Hagan & Poulin, 2021), becoming widespread by the 1860s. To date, no dye analysis has been undertaken to confirm this. 2 Coutil (or coutille) is a form of twill-weave cotton. It can be used to line, add strength, or for fusing to other fabrics. It is very strong and durable and is able to stand up to tension.

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4.11 THE CONSERVATION AND REPLICATION OF THE BANNER-COVERED CEILING IN THE STIBBERT MUSEUM, FLORENCE, ITALY* Mary Westerman Bulgarella Introduction In recent years textile conservation trends have rapidly changed, and the advances made in theory, science, and practice have caused modifications in both the conception and implementation of our work. To be current, conservators must acquire new experiences and knowledge through a continuous exchange of information with colleagues. An example of this revised approach is the conservation and replication of the banners which covered the ceiling of one of the historically evocative rooms in the Stibbert Museum in Florence. Here, at the end of the nineteenth century, 13 silk flags were draped together to create a tented pagoda-style ceiling decoration (Figure 4.11.1). These banners date between 1826 and 1859 and are the oldest in existence in Italy; they represent 12 of the 17 Sienese contrade (districts or wards) of the famous Palio horse race (Santi, 1998; Ceppari Ridolfi et al., 2001). The ground-floor room was designed to recall a neo-Gothic style and measures approximately 5 × 5.5m. The walls are covered with gilt leather panels. One wall has a large stained-glass door encased in carved wooden mouldings which create Gothic Revival arches. At about 3.5m from the ground runs a wooden carved decorative cornice from which the banners rise and are draped up towards the centre of the ceiling at a height of approximately 4.5m from the floor. Due to their unconventional hanging method and over-exposure to light and dust, they were badly deteriorated and in urgent need of conservation. From the onset it was understood that the banners would have to be removed from the ceiling and that, even after their conservation, they could never be repositioned there. It was uncertain, however, just how the fragile and damaged banners should be taken down and, after their removal, what could or would replace them. It was apparent from the condition of the banners that an intervention of some sort would be required before they endured more damage. Prior to initiating any type of treatment, it was necessary to acquire historically accurate information. Of equal importance was the acquisition of the technical knowledge required to complete the long-term (2002–2006) task.

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Figure 4.11.1 The banner-covered ceiling before the conservation and replication project began. The ­Stibbert Museum, Florence. 

After consulting with conservation and scientific colleagues, historians were also consulted and preliminary research was conducted. The information gathered was certainly applicable to conservation interventions. It was also valuable in arousing interest in the banners’ historic and cultural significance and securing financial sponsors. When trying to establish conservation procedures and estimating expenses, an array of variables and constraints had to be considered. The physical condition of the banners enforced the decision of their removal and subsequent treatment. Limitations of time and budget were also determining factors. A further restriction was the desire to employ and collaborate with Sienese textile conservators if at all possible. Added to all of this was a contractual stipulation that the conserved banners would be on display, as a complete set, in Siena under a ten-year renewable loan contract. Once this agreement was made between the Stibbert Museum and the Municipality of Siena, the Monte dei Paschi Foundation of Siena became the financial sponsor. The project’s magnitude required the collaborative efforts of a team of specialists including individuals and firms from Florence, Siena, and Prato. To start, a Florentine company, Opera Laboratori Fiorentini, with years of experience working with historic upholstery fabrics, was asked to join forces with a textile conservator (the author) while she analysed the job and planned for the banners’ documentation, removal, conservation, and replacement with facsimiles. The first analysis was purely visual, climbing up to the cornice on a ladder to understand the construction of the tented fabrics. The banners were hung separately, and each was individually lined. The tears and gaps in the silk were visible from ground level. When a raised

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platform was constructed that allowed close enough access to thoroughly document the extent of the damage, it was determined that the primary problems were: 1) how to safely remove the banners from the ceiling, 2) what methods and materials would be employed in conserving the individual banners, and 3) the problematic aesthetic and ethical query of what to substitute for the originals. A range of experiences acquired in other textile and conservation-related fields helped to work out a solution to the facsimile problem. Most notably, the possibility of creating the facsimile by photographing the banners and printing them onto a suitable seamless fabric emerged as a solution for the reproductions.

Removing the banners from the ceiling The bannered ceiling was photographed in its entirety from floor level. Each wall was photographed, and topographical drawings were made to document the locations of all the artworks before they, and all of the furniture in the room, were removed. The leather wall decoration was covered with protective padded sheeting. The enormous Murano glass chandelier was removed from the ceiling and stored suspended in a specially made apparatus. Removal of the decorative metal shield that covered the centre of the ceiling revealed the original colour and condition of the underlying central banner. Once the room was emptied, and the walls protected, a ‘suspended laboratory’ was constructed out of metal tube scaffolding with wooden floor and siding. A portion of the suspended floor could be momentarily removed to lower the individual banners to the ground on temporary supports without tilting them. A ladder leading to a ‘trap door’ in the floor made the laboratory accessible. While standing room was only available in the centre of the suspended room, low stools on caster wheels made it possible to glide around the entire area. The laboratory was equipped with lighting, again on wheels, and a series of wheeled carts served to hold tools and materials. Documentation of the condition of the banners and the work processes was accomplished by video recording all procedures throughout the project. A professional documentary film producer/ director oversaw this work and produced a digital video of the entire process (Beccatini, 2008). Documenting the tented ceiling’s added decoration, which included suspended lances tied in place with a complex system of cords and tassels, was accomplished by mapping and numbering all the elements and their location. After all these elements were removed, the removal of the individual banners began. In addition to the visibly deteriorated silk of the exposed portions of each banner, the hidden areas which were either folded back or stuffed into the cornice were probably damaged as well. Protecting the fragile silk from further breakage during the detaching phase was necessary. Attaching some lightweight, semi-transparent patches pre-treated with a pressure-sensitive adhesive was considered, but these adhesives leave a non-removable residue. Therefore, the visible portion of each banner was protected with tulle netting tacked to the ceiling frame where the banner was attached. Unreachable areas were not protected. A temporary core-board support, cut to the size and shape of the banner, was suspended at the height of the ceiling’s cornice. Once the nails that held the individual banner to the ceiling were eliminated, the released banner was lowered onto the support, which was then lowered through the suspended laboratory’s temporary floor opening to ground level. From there it was placed in a specially constructed shallow wooden box, laid flat in a van, and transported to the Textile Conservation Laboratory at the Pitti Palace for treatment.

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Conservation treatment of the banners From here the treatment of the individual banners began, as did their documentation and programming of their reproductions. Fortunately, the laboratory at the Pitti Palace is large enough to accommodate two banners at once since the measurements of each flattened and conserved banner would average 2 × 2m. To expedite the job, two teams of two conservators each were employed to work simultaneously on two separate banners. The first two banners (Onda and Lupa) were conserved respectively by the Sienese companies L’Arcolaio and L’Ermesino. All subsequent banners were conserved by L’Arcolaio and Tela di Penelope of Prato. All technical and backup support was given by the author. During the initial phases of a banner’s conservation, the aim was to document the condition, remove the lining, flatten it out as much as possible, and superficially clean the exposed side in preparation for its photograph. It was necessary to have a good digital image of the entire banner before proceeding with the work of replication. While the conservation work proceeded, the work on the replicas continued as well. When a banner was completed, it was temporarily stored and then another one was removed from the ceiling and brought to the laboratory for treatment in a sort of ‘assembly line’ production. Nothing was standard; each banner presented a series of unknowns as conservation progressed. For example, the Onda banner was perhaps in the worst condition since much of what was stuffed into the cornice was in either a severely deteriorated state or missing altogether. It, like many of the other banners, had been ‘restored’ in the past, and often this made it even more difficult to understand the original layout or design. The Drago banner was also in a very precarious state due to the fact that it had been adhered to another support, perhaps in Frederick Stibbert’s time, using a wax-based adhesive which had become insoluble. Therefore, the mechanical removal of the old support was a difficult and time-consuming procedure. This was done using controlled hot air to soften the adhesive and peeling off the added support in small strips. The adhesive residue was also heated and removed by mechanical scraping. Nonetheless, all the fabrics of the banners could be flattened, cleaned, and consolidated. The consolidation techniques varied according to the banners’ individual conditions. With the exception of one banner, all were treated using a solvent reactivation adhesion method. The degraded silk of the Lupa banner was in part supported with the heat-set application of a crepeline substrate which was pre-treated with a low concentration of polyvinyl acetate (Mowilith® DMC2). This treatment consisted of the application of pieces of silk crepeline, dyed with Ciba- Geigy Irgalan™ dyes to match the colour of the area to be treated and pre-coated with Klucel G® (hydroxypropyl cellulose), adhered to one side of the banner’s silk, and the reactivation of the adhesive with alcohol vapour. The banners are made up of an assemblage of fine multi-coloured silk taffeta shapes which had been pieced together and bordered with double-edged stitching. This technique was done in such a way that both sides of the banner appear the same and therefore there is no front or back. The central portion of the banner has the symbol of the contrada painted on both sides of the same silk ground. The paint was applied directly to the silk with no primer. Although samples were not taken from each banner, the paint analysis carried out by Editech, Florence, under the supervision of Maurizio Seracini, hypothesized that the medium was casein. Some areas around the centre were also painted to add shading or definition to the decoration. All of the banners, with the exception of Drago, were completely void of any original suspension system. Instead, they were simply sewn on to a lining of non-dyed cotton calico on all four sides and with long basting stitches at regular intervals throughout the interior. It was at this time that the banners’ front and back sides were 348

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Figure 4.11.2 A detail of the many repair stitches which passed through the banner’s silk onto the cotton lining. The Stibbert Museum, Florence. Image by Mary Westerman Bulgarella.

affirmed. The linings were added when the banners were put up on the ceiling, as was much of the previous restoration work done by stitching the ripped, torn, and broken areas of the original onto this lining (Figure 4.11.2).1 The first intervention was the partial opening up and flattening out of the banner to permit removal of the old lining. An ultrasonic humidification was carried out to relax the fibres so that the folds could be gently opened and the fabric extended. The lining removal was an extremely delicate task primarily because the silk was so deteriorated, dry, and dirty that it continued to shatter with the slightest manipulation. Added to this was a large quantity of old repair stitches that passed through the original silk onto the cotton lining, all of which had to be removed in order to separate the two layers. When the banners were released from their position on the ceiling, they were face down, and turning them over at this stage was not only difficult, it may have caused further damage. Therefore, it was decided to unpick the stitches from the reverse side in order to subsequently release and remove the lining. Once the lining was removed, with further humidification the fabric could continue to be flattened and broken areas could be recomposed until the entire banner was extended, being held flat under weights and/or pinned out with a slight tension. This intervention was done on a specially constructed large support of core-board covered with Melinex™, which allowed not only for a flat, non-stick working surface, but was also a means into which pins could be fixed when necessary. At this stage it was still impossible to turn the banner over, and until the fragmented silk was consolidated this would remain the case. We were fully aware that the dust and soot accumulated on the ‘front’ could not be removed until the banner was consolidated and turned over to the other side. Any type of washing intervention was discarded as the risk of losing yet more silk 349

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was implicit, and the characteristics (size, composition, and materials) of the banners did not lend themselves to such a treatment. Removal of the superficial dirt was postponed until after the consolidation process. In any case, micro-vacuum cleaning was carried out on the entire back side before any other treatment was initiated. After the banner was completely vacuumed and subsequently flattened out and partially reshaped, it could be turned over. To do this, two joined strips of Melinex™ were laid over it, and, with the aid of a long and large-diameter cardboard tube, the banner, now between the two layers of Melinex™, could be gently rolled over the tube and slid along the underlying plane of core board until its underside was uppermost.

Replication From the front, more work could be done to alleviate the superficial dirt, again using the microvacuuming method. Many loose fragments were repositioned and the banner further flattened. Once this was done, the banner, now on its core board support, was lowered onto the floor of the laboratory and digitally photographed in its entirety from above. As conservation continued on the individual banners, their photographs were uploaded onto a computer to digitally enhance these images. This work was done in collaboration with a computer technician who set up a work station in the conservation laboratory to allow continual consultation while the photographic enhancement was being carried out.2 In fact, it was essential for the technician to be present and to fully understand the scope of the enhanced images in order to satisfy the prerequisites for their subsequent printing on fabric. It was equally important that the lacunae be integrated correctly with the precise same colour and quality of their surrounding areas. Continuous colour controlling was done while resisting the temptation to ‘restore’ the silks’ original colours or brightness. We were intent on reproducing the colour and the visual quality of the banners’ silk as they were, not as they had been originally. To this end, a Pantone® was used to establish the colour formulas which were then fed into the computer and reproduced. When we were satisfied with the enhanced image, it was printed to scale 1:1 on photo paper so that it could be compared side by side with the original and any necessary adjustments made. The final digital image was then sent to a specialized fabric printing company in Holland where a trial banner replica was made.3 When the trial copy arrived, it was first compared to the original and then temporarily hung on the ceiling in the Stibbert Museum so we could evaluate the final effect. Our response was one of amazement at the incredible accuracy of detail of the reproduced banner. The reproductions of the remaining banner facsimiles were ordered.

Adhesive support Parallel to the creation of the replicas, the conservation of the original banners proceeded. Much work went into the preparation of the substrate material to be adhered to the banners’ degraded silk. Silk crepeline was dyed specifically to match the colours of the silks to be consolidated. The dyed crepeline was positioned over a sheet of Melinex™, and a 4% concentration of Klucel G® was brushed onto it and allowed to dry. The shapes of the areas requiring treatment were traced onto transparent sheeting, transferred to the substrate and carefully cut out, allowing for the slight overlapping of the edges between one area and another. The Melinex™ was then peeled away and the treated crepeline was placed, adhesive side downward, on top of the area to be consolidated. This was covered with a similarly shaped piece of absorbent blotting paper which had been spray dampened with alcohol, again covered with Melinex™ and pinned and/or weighted down until 350

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all of the alcohol had evaporated. It was during the evaporation phase that the adhesive on the crepeline was reactivated and a bond was created with the underlying silk. After the adhesive was dry, and the weights, Melinex™, and blotting paper were removed, the treated sections were completely supported and consolidated. This type of treatment proved suitable for the majority of the banners for several reasons, the first being its less invasive method of application, requiring neither heat nor impregnation of the original fabrics. Second was its straightforward preparation and trouble-free reversibility; third was the ease in which the excess adhesive could be removed from exposed areas; and last, but not least, the appearance of the original silk in the treated areas remained unaltered. An important consideration in the decision to use hydroxypropyl cellulose as the adhesive is that it does not create a very strong bond. Since the conserved banners were to be displayed horizontally on a flat support, a stronger adhesive bond was not required (Gill & Boersma, 1997).

Redisplay While the conservation of the original banners proceeded at the Pitti Palace laboratory, all 13 reproductions (12 of the contrade plus one from the ceiling centre) arrived at the Stibbert Museum. Before they could be hung, the ceiling was covered with a heavy cotton calico fabric which serves as an underlining for the replicas. The copies were then rearranged over the underlining precisely in the same manner as they were before being removed. This concluding phase of the replication work was carried out by the upholstery firm, as they are specialized in the artistic and technical skill of hanging wall and ceiling fabrics. The cording, tassels, lances, central shield, and chandelier were cleaned and conserved before being replaced in situ (Figure 4.11.3). Again, the entire operation was videoed and documented for future consultation. At this point, the author’s task was to direct the work of the finishing details and make sure that the entire room returned exactly as it once was. The project proposal for the display of the original banners was approved and rooms in the Sienese museum complex of Santa Maria della Scala were allotted for this purpose. Here every banner was to have its own individual display case, equipped with internal reflected fibre optic diffused low lighting (under 50 lux) and extractable trays in the base of each case for the insertion of silica gel packets. Each banner was to be positioned horizontally on a fabric-covered support panel constructed with conservation state-of-the-art materials. The case cover was to be of a single sheet of tempered glass placed over the banner without resting upon it. Apart from the 12 banners in their cases, the display was to include explanatory panels and audio visual material not only illustrating the historic and artistic significance of the Palio banners but also their physical characteristics and conservation. In September of 2009 the 12 original banners were prepared for travel to Siena to go on display in the S. Maria della Scala exhibition entitled Il Sogno del Medioevo. For this purpose, large cylinders (500mm in diameter and 2.2m long) were specifically constructed. Each banner was sandwiched between separate layers of MelinexTM and then rolled onto the cylinder, two banners on each roller (Figure 4.11.4). The prepared banners on the cylinders were suspended by means of a custom-made support system which allowed the rolled banners to ‘float’ freely and not rest on any surface while being transported in a large lorry to Siena. Upon their arrival, they were carefully unrolled, and each banner was placed in its own specially designed horizontal case, each with LED lighting around the perimeter and tempered-glass protection suspended well above the banner it contained. This allowed for a pleasing aesthetic, easy viewing, and proper conservation display criteria. The display was accompanied by descriptive panels as well as several 351

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Figure 4.11.3  The Flag Room after conservation. The Stibbert Museum, Florence.

videos illustrating the history of the Palio, information about the banners, and their subsequent conservation. The original concept for the display of the banners was in lieu of a ‘Palio Museum’, but unfortunately this has not come to fruition. Therefore, when the ten-year loan stipulation expired, the ­banners returned to the Stibbert Museum, again being rolled on the large transport cylinders. The same ­custom-made support structure used for their protected suspension during travel now serves as the 352

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Figure 4.11.4 The original banners in their permanent storage system. The Stibbert Museum, Florence. Image by Mary Westerman Bulgarella

storage system for the original banners in the depository of the Stibbert Museum. It is still our hope that both the original banners and the replicated ceiling can be enjoyed by many for many years to come.

Acknowledgements Special thanks for their unending support during all phases of the presented work go to Kirsten Aschengreen Piacenti, then director of the Stibbert Museum, Simona Di Marco, curator, and Bruno Santi, art historian and ex-commissioner of fine arts in Siena and of conservation in Florence. Particular thanks for their collaboration to Antonio Frenna, and the technicians of Opera Laboratori Fiorentini, film producer Massimo Becattini, the conservators of Tela di Penelope, Arcolaio and Ermesino, the photographers and computer technicians of Industrialfoto, and the staff of the Stibbert Museum and of the Textile Conservation Laboratory in the Pitti Palace. Further thanks to Jane Down, Senior Conservation Scientist at the Canadian Conservation Institute, for her information regarding pressure-sensitive adhesives, and to all the personnel in Siena involved in the realization of the Palio banner project.

References Beccatini, M. (Dir. & Ed.) (2008). Il restauro della Sala delle Bandiere. Frederick Stibbert e il suo museo [The restoration of the Frederick Stibbert Banner Hall and its museum]. DVD. Florence.

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Mary Westerman Bulgarella Ceppari Ridolfi, M.C., Ciampolini, M. & Turrini, P. (2001). L’immagine del Palio: storia culture e rappresentazione del rito di Siena [The image of the Palio: culture history and the representation of the ritual of Siena]. Siena: Monte dei Paschi di Siena. Gill, K. & Boersma, F. (1997). Solvent reactivation of hydroxypropl cellulose (Klucel G®) in textile conservation: recent developments. The Conservator, 21, 12–20. Santi, B. (1998). Bandiere in ‘Terra Guelfa’ [Banners in Guelph Territory]. Il Carroccio di Siena [The ­Carroccio of Siena], XIV(74), 30–32.

Notes * Published in 2010, revised in 2024 1 Frederick Stibbert received a bill dated 26 July 1887 from the Florentine upholsterers Gaetano Cavalensi and Giuseppe Botti, for having restored and hung the 13 banners. Frederick Stibbert Archive, P.S. (1888). 2 All digital photographs were taken and subsequently digitally enhanced by Industrialfoto of Florence. 3 After extensive research and trials in Italy, the same company that printed the works of the Dutch fabric artist Wilma Kuil was contacted. Print Unlimited (www.printunlimited.nl) specializes in textile printing on demand in limited quantities on a variety of substrates and in very wide widths.

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CHAPTER 5

Preventive conservation

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OVERVIEW Preventive conservators are now our collective front-line collections’ advocates. Due to their broad backgrounds and training, they have key positions in the care of collections, be it in museums, historic houses/sites or important cultural institutions. The case study by Silence, a former textile conservator who has transitioned to preventive conservation, discusses the big-picture issues affecting all The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation collections. They must be the protectors of all types of collections, objects and buildings. An institution can produce ‘guest’ surveys, but who speaks for the artefacts? The preventive conservators must do that; they must lobby on behalf of the collections. Whatever management structure conservators work under, be it registration departments, conservation or curatorial departments, custodial departments or are a singular unit devoted to conservation, the job is immense. The case study by Rendell focuses on the preventive needs of textiles and the importance of inhouse record keeping which marries with the needs of all these departments. Worldwide, the term preventive conservation is sometimes used synonymously with collections care. Preventive conservation/collections care includes tasks such as risk

Figure 5.0.1 Preventive conservation aides engage in daily housekeeping activities in the museums, including dusting and cleaning casework. Regular cleaning reduces risks associated with the accumulation of soiling and presents opportunities for careful examination of objects on display. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 

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management, environmental monitoring and mitigation, pest management, storage and display design, basic cleaning (Figure 5.0.1), event protection, disaster preparedness and recovery. Systems design and maintenance may also be a part of the skill set demanded of preventive conservators.

Development In the UK, preventive conservation evolved after the two world wars from a housekeeping expertise, based on the traditions of the housekeeping staff who originally took care of the great houses (Sandwith & Stainton, 1984). The responsibilities of the housekeeper and butler were enormous. These responsibilities are now codified as preventive conservation, with some essential early publications such as The Manual of Housekeeping by the National Trust (2006)1 that established and maintained the term. In the last 15 years, the preventive field has grown distinctly (Staniforth, 2013). An early pioneer for preventive conservation in the US was Carolyn Rose and her teaching programmes at George Washington University (Pearlstein, 2005). Preventive conservation or collections care may be performed by any institutional professional from the top down. A director procuring funding for a new building helps create a space where environmental demands are minimized. A maintenance technician adjusting the HVAC systems to better control temperature and humidity is practising preventive conservation. In 2012, The American Institute for Conservation added a professional group to the organization called the Collection Care Network; in 2022 it was rebranded as the Preventive Care Network. Their mandate is ‘to be a resource and provider of the many specialities that support preventive conservation in all its many forms’ (Marcus, 2023: 34). The Icon Care of Collections Group is equally dedicated to the same inclusive principles (Icon, 2023). These organizations effectively overlap with the Sustainability Committees and the Equity and Inclusion Committees. The Preventive Conservation Working Group of ICOM-CC and other forums present cutting-edge developments in preventive conservation research.

Education In the UK there are several academic opportunities: the MA programme for Preventive Conservation at the University of Northumbria, MSc in the Care of Collections from Cardiff University and a two-year MA programme in Collections Care and Conservation Management from West Dean. In the US the Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation offers ‘preventive’ as a major in the graduate programme. Plenty of coursework for preventive and/or collections care exists in the US and internationally within museum studies, history, art history, archival programmes and textile conservation programmes at other collegiate institutions (Figure 5.0.2). This makes it evident that these institutions feel that collections care should be introduced to all future museum employees.

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Figure 5.0.2 Students monitoring relative humidity in textile storage area. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow. 

Risk management The practice of risk management can provide valuable insights for making informed decisions in many areas of collections care. It has been on the preventive radar since its introduction by Ashley-Smith and Waller in the late 1990s (Ashley-Smith, 1999; Waller, 2003; Waller et al., 2016: 33–41). Since then, it has been regularly updated by other specialists in the field. More recently Garside et al. (2018) show how risk management supports preventive conservation.

Environment Essentially the buildings need to be assessed first. If a building isn’t safe or sound, nothing inside will be – including staff and visitors. The preventive care team needs to engage a broad community of support for this assessment. Following assessment, mitigation plans, initial response and recovery, follow-up care and treatment plans must be developed (Iannuccilli, 2017; Reynolds Hall, 2021).

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Inside the building, preventive conservators focus on monitoring and stabilizing environmental conditions. IIC and ICOM-CC tackle the subjects of environmental conditions in museums and have produced joint guidelines for safeguarding collections, the IIC/ICOMCC 2014 Declaration on Environmental Guidelines; ‘The conservation profession has come together and agreed a position on environmental guidelines’ (Bickersteth, 2016). International concern for climate change called for a review of museum environmental standards regarding sustainability (Marshall, 2023). Again, the front-line collections care professionals are addressing these evolving issues. The field previously had very precise dictates as to what the perfect temperature, humidity and light levels were for maximum protection (Maekawa et al., 2015). With energy costs rising and the depletion of natural resources, these parameters are being re-evaluated. All are looking for what will be sustainable for the long term for collections and buildings (Saunders, 2022). Some specific everyday topics include the management of light levels and pest control, a never-ending problem for textile and paper artefacts. Preventive staff can control the lighting dynamic by monitoring (Vlachou-Mogire et al., 2020). The case study by Meneses Lozano describes a novel approach to using light for display while being mindful of preventive conservation parameters. Minimizing the impact of insects is enhanced with an integrated pest management scheme (Nilsen & Rossipal, 2019; Figure 5.0.3).2

Figure 5.0.3 Regular cleaning, careful examination and monitoring for pest activity are fundamental to the care and preservation of the artefacts and reproductions displayed in historic interiors. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

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The case studies by Howard and Sato bring to light another internal environmental danger in the collections: the modern materials that objects are themselves made from. Some of the degradation products emitted from ageing textile materials can present exhibition challenges, be a danger to other collection items and affect collections storage environments, as well as personnel (Babin et al., 2010). Maintaining their preservation, as well as possible disposal, can be a sustainability challenge (Palmer, 2006; Stevens, 2019).

Climate change and sustainability As mentioned previously, the envelope and surrounding landscape of an institution must be sound and a protective barrier for the collections (Staniforth et al., 2004). Our buildings and the internal environments are subject to extreme weather events spurred on by climate change. The three international conservation organizations, IIC, ICCROM and ICOM-CC, agreed to a significant initiative on climate change, the Joint Commitment for Climate Action in Cultural Heritage (IIC, 2021). This document can assist in supporting collections personnel in their preservation efforts. As Chapter 1 showed, climate change has brought increased risks from extreme weather events. Disaster planning is key to risk mitigation. Disasters cannot be stopped but preparation is essential. Natural disasters probably initiated the increased specialization of preventive care and collections management. Conservators are now much more conscious of the demands of environmental sustainability. The accessibility of the collections, the installation of displays, object movements, and oversight of storage and loans (Taylor & Boersma, 2018) are also being assessed under the sustainability umbrella. The products or materials being used can be collectively researched by collections care staff for maximum protection (Finch, 2022). Preventive conservators work with and share responsibility with all staff members on these projects.

Increased access The past decade has seen increased pressure on historic house contents, particularly as the prioritization of access has led to longer opening hours and increased interaction with house interiors (Staniforth & Lloyd, 2012). Also, in an ever-increasing need for revenue, institutions are becoming party, wedding and performance venues for the general public or backdrops for the ever-growing film industry (Fry et al., 2022). This has the significant benefit of engaging new communities. To facilitate these events and protect buildings and contents, the preventive staff must work with a wide range of management structures, including frontof-house staff, event planners and marketing. The care is always co-dependent with whoever the stakeholders are. Milne gives a first-person account documenting her institution’s transformation into ‘haunted houses’: ‘conservators can rest assured that if events and activities are carefully evaluated and the risks are mitigated, there can be a variety of new and innovative activities to draw in new and old visitors’ (Milne, 2019: 48, 60–61).

Conclusion Who oversees preventive care? In small institutions, it could be everyone from the director to the cleaners. Ultimately all the staff should be involved and take responsibility for the care of the site, buildings and collections. Today, it could very well be a textile conservator. 361

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Preventive conservation must not be ignored by any conservator. Whether one chooses to pursue a specific discipline or remain object specific, it is part of everyone’s life as a conservator.

References Ashley-Smith, J. (1999). Risk assessment for object conservation. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Babin, A., Hinkamp, D., Makos, K., McCann, M. & Pool, M. (2010). Chemical hazards. In Health and safety for museum professionals (pp. 227–349). New York: Society for the Preservation of Natural History Collections. Bickersteth, J. (2016). IIC and ICOM-CC 2014 declaration on environmental guidelines. Studies in Conservation, 61(sup1), 12–17. Finch, L. (2022). Low cost/no cost tips for sustainability in cultural heritage. Self-published. Available from: https://lfcp.co.uk Fry, C., Tomlin, C., Marsland, V. & Barnes, A. (2022). Lights, camera, conservation! Managing the risks when filming in historic locations: adapting to growth, a pandemic and the need for sustainability. Studies in Conservation, 67(sup1), 77–86. Garside, P., Bradford, K. & Hamlyn, S. (2018). The use of risk management to support preventive conservation, Studies in Conservation, 63(sup1), 94–100. Iannuccilli, C. (2017). A textile conservator’s contribution to disaster preparedness at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Postprints, AICTSG, 26, pp. 89–97. Icon (2023). Icon Care of Collections Group. Available from: https://www.icon.org.uk/groups-andnetworks/care-of-collections/about-us.html IIC (2021). IIC, ICCROM, and ICOM-CC agree joint commitment for climate action in cultural heritage. IIC. Available from: https://www.iiconservation.org/content/iic-iccrom-and-icom-cc-agreejoint-commitment-climate-action-cultural-heritage Maekawa, S., Beltran, V.L. & Henry, M.C. (2015). Tools for conservation: environmental management for collections: alternative conservation strategies for hot and humid climates. Los Angeles: GCI. Marcus, G. (2023). The preventive care network: mitigating risks to collections. Papyrus, 24(1), 34. Bel Air MD: International Association of Museum Facility Administrators (IAMFA). Marshall, A. (2023). As energy costs bite, museums rethink a conservation credo. The New York Times, 1 February. Available from: https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/07/books/climate-change-bookpreservation.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare Milne, J. (2019). Responses to changes in visitor expectations at National Historic Sites of Canada. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned: textile conservation, then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau, Canada (pp. 48–62), NATCC. Nilsen, L. & Rossipal, M. (Eds) (2019). Integrated pest management (IPM) for cultural heritage: proceedings from the 4th international conference in Stockholm, Sweden. Stockholm: Riksantikvarieämbetet. Palmer, A. (2006). ‘A bomb in the collection’: researching and exhibiting early 20th century fashion. In C. Rogerson & P. Garside (Eds), The future of the 20th century: collecting, interpreting and conserving modern materials (pp. 41–47). London: Archetype. Pearlstein, E. (2005). Introduction. Carolyn Rose 1949–2002. JAIC, 44(3), 157–158. Reynolds Hall, L. (2021). Preemptive strategies and collaboration for emergency planning: lesson at Vizcaya in Miami. APT Bulletin, 52(203), 15–23. Sandwith, H. & Stainton, S. (1984). The National Trust manual of housekeeping. London: Viking. Saunders, D. (2022). A methodology for modelling preservation, access and sustainability. Studies in Conservation, 67(sup1), 245–252. Staniforth, S. (Ed.) (2013). Historical perspectives on preventive conservation. Los Angeles: Getty Publications. Staniforth, S., Kerschner, R., Ashley-Smith, J., Druzik, J. & Levin, J. (2004). Sustainable access: a discussion about implementing preventive conservation. Conservation: The GCI Newsletter, 19(1), 10–16.

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Staniforth, S. & Lloyd, H. (2012). Use it or lose it: the opportunities and challenges of bringing historic places to life. Studies in Conservation, 57(sup1), 286–294. Stevens, A. (2019). Trouble in store. Museums Association. Available from: https://www.museumsassociation.org/museums-journal/in-practice/2019/04/15042019-plastics-collections-trouble-in-store/ Taylor, J. & Boersma, F. (2018). Managing environments for collections: the impact of international loans on sustainable climate strategies. Studies in Conservation, 63(sup1), 257–261. Vlachou-Mogire, C., Bertolotti, G., Hallett, K. & Frame, K. (2020). Developing ‘smart’ solutions for light management for historic collections. Studies in Conservation, 65(sup1), 333–341. Waller, R. (2003). Cultural property risk analysis model: development and application to preventive conservation at the Canadian Museum of Nature. Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis. Philadelphia: Coronet. Waller, R., Stauderman, S. & Tompkins, W. (2016). Risk assessment and assignment of environment parameters. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution.

Notes 1 The Manual of Housekeeping, first published in 1984, was completely revised and expanded in 2006. 2 https://museumpests.net/about-us/

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5.1 PREVENTIVE CONSERVATION AT THE COLONIAL WILLIAMSBURG FOUNDATION* Patricia Silence

Introduction The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation is comprised of many buildings on over 300 acres (­described in Guidess’s case study in Chapter 2) with a large, remarkable collection. A comprehensive preventive conservation programme is essential to ensure appropriate care of these resources. The Foundation’s programme is designed and directed by a former textile conservator. The programme covers several general types of collections: archaeological, historical, fine art, and architectural. Note that textiles and fibres are found in all these categories. The approach is necessarily collaborative and engages every department and trade of this large institution. Catastrophic risks, such as fire or severe weather, and damage due to environmental problems are addressed through careful preparation, education, monitoring, and communication, as well as active, routine engagement with the collection. The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation’s textile collections are stored at the Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg as well as at the Bruton Heights Wallace Collections Building. Study and conservation take place at Bruton Heights. Additionally, superbly crafted reproduction textiles are displayed (and worn) throughout the Foundation’s Historic Area, enhancing the interpretation of the oldest and largest living history museum in the United States. It is well understood that exposure and use of textiles accelerate damage, yet their function as educational tools and documents mandates that they are accessible. Antique textiles are very rarely displayed in the Historic Area due to the rigours of open display and their irreplaceable nature. While reproduction textiles can be replaced, a tremendous amount of highly skilled labour is required to make them. The fabrics, trims, and other components are expensive and often difficult to acquire. The Foundation embraces the concept of preventive conservation for several practical reasons, not the least of which is the cumulative benefit to these textiles. The backbone of the programme is the preventive conservation team of approximately two dozen technicians and aides. These individuals don’t necessarily come from formal museum or collections study training programmes. They are typically local, entry-level employees with a wide variety of skills and interest in learning on the job. Each day they inspect, clean, and gather data everywhere collections are kept. They perform materials testing, light management and

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Figure 5.1.1 Preventive conservation staff members caring for the collection and maintaining A Rich and Varied Culture: The Material World of the Early South exhibition at the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

monitoring, and collections handling for storage, movement, and installation. The members of this team interact with colleagues in the curatorial, conservation, architectural preservation, and museums departments as well as staff throughout the Foundation (Figure 5.1.1).

Why preventive conservation? A background in textile conservation provides one with a broad and deep understanding of ‘agents of deterioration’. Textile conservators are also keenly aware that conservation treatment, particularly efforts to restore appearance and structural properties close to original condition, are labour intensive and rarely result in an object suitable for use. In collecting institutions, the expense of long treatments and prioritization of time spent towards preparing textiles for display limit the list of what can be treated. In the case of conservation or disaster triage for privately held collections, the monetary value of a textile may be weighed against the cost of treatment, and many important objects are not conserved at all. Prevention is in fact less expensive than bench conservation. Its global approach might be seen as democratic, preserving far more cultural property than individual treatments. Preventive care of collections held in public trust by an educational institution ensures that cultural heritage material is available for future generations to study and assess as collections grow, taste changes, and value judgements evolve.

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Disaster preparedness and response Tidewater Virginia is susceptible to intense storms, particularly hurricanes, and all sites have the potential of structural or mechanical failure resulting in disaster. The Foundation has an emergency response plan that considers both man-made and natural disasters. In the plan, each building is considered, and aspects of response and who is responsible for these tasks are clearly described. The preventive conservation team keeps emergency bins stocked with supplies at several locations so that immediate response by staff is possible to prevent further damage. Training in object handling is performed with all collections staff members, ensuring that necessary collections protection and moves can be done properly and quickly when an emergency occurs. Triage decisions, such as freezing or controlled drying, are made by specialist conservators and curators. Hurricanes are fairly predictable, and several days prior to possible landfall are spent tracking the storm and making preparations to protect the collection. Textiles are removed from harm’s way and packed in our most secure storage sites. Most collections are left in place following assessment of risk of damage due to handling and movement. We rely on our structures – old and new – to protect the collection from harm (Figure 5.1.2). Shutters or plywood are secured over windows. Sorbent materials are placed in areas with known susceptibility to leaks, such as fireplaces. Generators are in place (and kept fuelled) in case of power failure, which can last for several days in Tidewater Virginia. This emergency power supply only runs essential pumps, egress lights, and

Figure 5.1.2 A carpenter secures traditional shutters, used for protection of an eighteenth-century structure during a storm. Image by David Doody, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

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a few outlets that might be used for fans or dehumidifiers. Historic Area sites may reopen to the public when the power is out, and recovery of the area is in progress. The museums and collections storage areas are kept closed and secure, as conditions will stay fairly stable until power is restored (Smithsonian Cultural Rescue Initiative, 2022).

Fire and associated damage Fire and associated water damage present a significant risk to collections. After every effort to prevent fire is employed, fire detection and means of suppression must be in place. The Foundation uses a wide variety of fire detection and suppression throughout its many buildings, as each building and its use must be carefully evaluated for these important elements to fit and function properly. In the new museums and collections sites (commissioned since the 1980s), wet-pipe fire suppression is in place, replacing failed original pre-action and dry-pipe systems. Pre-action systems are designed to prevent accidental discharge by requiring activation of both a heat or smoke detector and an automatic sprinkler before operating. Dry-pipe systems are comprised of air-filled pipes designed to fill with and discharge water following the activation of a local sprinkler head. Wetpipe systems are maintained full of water. Pipes used in systems that maintain air pressure are quite susceptible to corrosion. All fire suppression systems require careful and regular maintenance to operate as required. Many textile conservators are adamant that water above their collections presents too great a risk in the event of the activation of the fire suppression system. However, the Foundation has concluded that the benefit of stopping a fire as quickly as possible reduces the risk of catastrophic loss to people and collections. Less water is used to suppress a blaze in the early stages, and therefore less material is susceptible to smoke and charring. Most of the textile collections in storage are kept within cabinets that will limit water damage, should the system go off. While gaseous suppression is sometimes used in small and self-contained textile storage areas, it is rarely an option in more open exhibition spaces. Water backup for these systems is still recommended in case the suppression agent is exhausted before a fire is extinguished. Mist systems are very expensive and require significant maintenance and space for equipment within the building. A properly installed wet-pipe fire suppression system is effective and the least expensive type to install and maintain (National Fire Protection Association, 2021).

Building and mechanical systems design Textile or preventive conservators have a great deal to offer in building design, whether new construction, remodelling, or repair. Conversations and collaboration should begin with the initial concept and continue throughout design and construction. This allows for integrating conservation concerns into the process, reduces expensive change orders and retrofitting, and gives the conservator an understanding of how the building and its mechanical systems work. This is the model employed at The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. Rather than asking the conservator to write specifications that may be unrealistic or impractical, or the architectural team to create a highly functional exhibition, storage, or treatment space without understanding the nuances of working with collections, ongoing mutual education ensues. The result of this inclusive design process is essential simplification and economy, based on priorities of collections safety and institutional sustainability. Those who use and maintain the building are familiar with the rationale for materials, mechanical, and safety equipment, such as the aforementioned fire suppression. 367

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Although mechanical engineering is typically beyond the scope of conservation training, it plays a significant role in the collections environment. The Foundation has reaped benefits from including their preventive conservator in HVAC (heating, ventilation, and air conditioning) design, operation, and repair discussion and decisions. All parties have increased empathy and understanding of each other’s professional challenges and goals. Established rapport that allows for questions and sharing concerns has been instrumental in creative problem-solving. An example is management of the environment during periods of equipment shutdowns, due to maintenance or failure. The conservator has viewing access to the buildings’ automation systems and provides suggestions for reducing the impact on the mechanical plant, such as closing certain galleries or turning off hot exhibition lights. Collaboration of this sort assures Foundation colleagues that proper collections care will continue as fuel prices rise and greenhouse gas reduction becomes more important. Changes and compromises are made with the confidence that all sides of the issues have been explored and considered. Technological advances will improve mechanical performance, and excellent building design enhances efficiencies. Conservators must continue material science research to provide practical temperature and relative humidity guidelines, including the establishment of a realistic standard for the desired rate of change in both aspects. These guidelines should account for and vary depending on the climate of the region where the collections reside.

Lighting management and design Textiles are particularly susceptible to damage from light in every range, from infrared to visible to ultraviolet. The challenge for conservators, designers, and building managers is to use only the light that is needed for optimum viewing of collections and safe egress in the building. There are several arguments for reducing light to essential levels: energy savings, less heat, fewer intrusions for changing bulbs, and an improved environment for light-sensitive objects. If a careful assessment of desired light levels combined with the duration of exposure is employed, exhibits can stay up longer, reducing labour and exhibition expenses. The Foundation employs several methods to reduce light in exhibition environments. In the Historic Area, shutters, eighteenth-century-style Venetian blinds, filtering plastic film and Plexiglass®, and, where appropriate, twentieth-century-style insect screens all help to reduce natural light that comes through windows of the buildings (Figure 5.1.3). Where an eighteenthcentury experience is desired, traditional covers and seasonal protection (such as mosquito netting) for household items help protect furnishings. Interiors are lit at night or on dark days with candles or high-quality electric candles which have bulbs that provide the equivalent of one foot-candle (10.764 lux). The Art Museums have an automated lighting control system that is programmed to turn on ‘walk-through’ lights when staff are in the building and ‘exhibition’ lights during the hours the Art Museums are open to the public. Small windows on the north side of the building are equipped with blackout shades that open only when the Museums are open to the public. A large clerestory window provides natural light to one gallery. It is equipped with louvres that adjust more or less open, based on readings from four light meters on the walls of the room. Light monitoring in these special situations has resulted in an understanding of where light and dark pockets can be found. The exhibition designers use this information, provided by the preventive conservator, to create exhibits that can last more than a few months without overexposing collections.

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Figure 5.1.3 Reproduction of eighteenth-century Venetian blinds serves to manage natural light in a historic structure. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

Attempts to reduce light at the more immediate viewer level are described in Peterson-Grace’s case study in Chapter 6. These efforts can allow for either higher foot-candles (better viewing experience) or longer exhibition time (saving exhibition labour and materials) – or a combination of both.

Pest prevention and treatment Biological agents, from fungi to insects and rodents, can damage or destroy textiles. The first line of defence against these threats is to maintain an environment that does not support them: typically dry and clean. Recent acquisitions and items with suspected biological activity are quarantined and treated, if necessary, before being brought into the collections environment to prevent crosscontamination. Monitoring serves to discover and eliminate pest problems while they are small. Staff education encourages everyone to report noted problems and maintain clean and food-free collections areas. This integrated and communicative approach results in less pesticide use and a safer work environment. Since 2010 the Foundation’s preventive conservation team has included an integrated pest management (IPM) specialist who manages the Foundation-wide IPM programme, addressing pests that damage all sorts of collections, from textiles to structures. The exhibition and collections storage buildings are routinely monitored. Records of activity are kept, and trends are noted.

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Figure 5.1.4 Joel Voron, IPM specialist, checks for evidence of structural pests in The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation’s Historic Area. Image by Tom Green, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

Recommendations and solutions, such as sealing building fabric, pruning vegetation, and minimal use of pesticides, are carried out or supervised by Foundation staff (Figure 5.1.4). Tidewater Virginia can be a very hot and humid place, and mould is everywhere. Keeping collections clean, particularly in the Historic Area, helps prevent spores from growing on susceptible objects. When an outbreak of mould is discovered on a textile, the specialist textile conservator treats the object. Following treatment, every effort is made to correct deficiencies in the environment. When objects that can withstand freezing require treatment for insect pests, a dedicated pharmacy-grade freezer is used. Reproduction textiles from the Historic Area are routinely frozen as a prophylactic measure prior to returning to storage. Anoxic treatment, using oxygen scavengers in barrier film bags, is employed when items are too large for the freezer or might be damaged by low temperatures. A leak detector is used to ensure the necessary seal of the oxygen barrier film (Integrated Pest Management Working Group, 2022).

Conclusion Preventive conservation has always been an important part of the textile conservators’ skill set. Whether performed by a collections manager, textile conservator, or preventive conservator, it remains the key to sustainability of collections and institutions. Its success relies on communication and cooperation between stakeholders and experts both inside and outside the cultural heritage world, making it a more social endeavour than most bench conservation. 370

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Of course, technology plays a major role in modern preventive conservation. Monitoring, data collection, analysis, and again, communication are all enhanced by employing powerful new tools and computer programmes, including robust collections management software. These tools help the preventive conservator interpret interconnected aspects, such as duration of exposure, building design, and environmental conditions. The survival of many textile collections depends on this understanding of ‘big picture’ elements combined with a clear vision of optimal collections care (Ashley-Smith, 1999).

References Ashley-Smith, J. (1999). Risk assessment for object conservation. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Integrated Pest Management Working Group (2022). Integrated pest management for cultural heritage. Available from: https://museumpests.net/ National Fire Protection Association (2021). NFPA 909. Code for the protection of cultural resource properties – museums, libraries, and places of worship. Available from: https://www.nfpa.org/ codes-and-standards/all-codes-and-standards/list-of-codes-and-standards/detail?code=909 Smithsonian Cultural Rescue Initiative (2022). About HENTF (Heritage Emergency National Task Force). Available from: https://culturalrescue.si.edu/hentf/about-hentf/

Note * Published in 2010, revised in 2024.

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5.2 PREVENTIVE CONSERVATION SOLUTIONS FOR TEXTILE COLLECTIONS* Caroline Rendell

Julia, Lady Calverley, worked a set of needlework panels in the 1710s for Esholt Hall, the family seat; in 1755 they were brought to Northumberland in the north-east of England by her son. Today the panels are a highlight of the Needlework Room at Wallington, in the care of the National Trust (Figure 5.2.1). The Needlework Room is the most complete surviving room of the eighteenthcentury house. The ten needlework panels rise from the dado rail to the ceiling and are set within rococo frames. The central panel on the north wall is dated 1717. In the Pigeon Hole, next door, a fine six-leaf needlework screen made by Julia, Lady Calverley, in 1727 is displayed, and her portrait hangs opposite the screen (Trevelyan, 2004). Wallington has approximately 500 textiles in the collection, of which the eighteenth-century textiles are the most significant. All are cared for using the National Trust principles of preventive conservation, good housekeeping, day-to-day condition monitoring and managing visitor access. The National Trust is a registered charity which cares for more than 300 historic properties for the benefit of the nation. The National Trust definition of conservation is: ‘the careful management of change. It is about revealing and sharing the significance of places and ensuring that their special qualities are protected, enhanced, understood and enjoyed by present and future generations’ (Staniforth, 2006: 35). Thomson’s pioneering publication, The Museum Environment (1978), identified the causes of deterioration to collections and presented solutions to mitigate that damage. The National Trust has applied what are now termed ‘preventive conservation’ standards to its collections since that time. However, it is worth noting that the best traditional housekeeping practices are akin to the science of preventive conservation. For example, covering furniture and keeping light at bay by closing rooms when country houses were not in use were part of a traditional good housekeeping routine. A mixture of science and tradition is evident in the National Trust’s management of its collections today (Lloyd, 1995). Preventive conservation can therefore be described as a systemized form of risk management – a stitch in time which saves nine. By carrying out surveys such as Preventive Conservation Audits, threats to textile collections can be identified and preventive conservation measures taken to monitor and control the relevant agents of decay to minimize further damage. Advising on preventive conservation is the responsibility of the portfolio conservator and the conservation adviser. A conservator works with their portfolio properties, giving advice on preventive conservation and

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Figure 5.2.1 The Needlework Room. Light is managed with UV film, wooden shutters, double blinds and replica festoon curtains. The light dose is measured using a data logger and blue wool dosimeter. Dust is recorded at different locations within the room using dust slides. Images by Andrew McGregor, courtesy of the National Trust, Wallington. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

being the champion for all aspects of collections care. Conservators come to the National Trust with different conservation specialisms. A conservator who may have had their training in easel paintings, for example, will be advised on the care of textiles by the National Trust strategic lead on textile conservation, who provides expert advice, guidance and expertise on all aspect of textile conservation; they have a unique national overview of all of the textile collections owned by the National Trust. A specialist textile conservator, for example on the conservation treatment of painted textiles, is called upon when necessary. The National Trust collections are on continuous, permanent and open display, and such items as carpets are still in use (Marko, 2006). There are very few collections which are able to rotate items. Often items in store are of secondary rather than primary importance to the story of the house and its presentation. This creates particular challenges in retaining the atmosphere of houses. Wherever possible, the aim is for textiles to remain on open display in their room settings. Daylight is regarded as the best means to appreciate a historic house interior, rendering colours accurately, and introducing attractive variations according to weather, season and time of day. While visible light is necessary to enable visitors to see the objects, the high ultraviolet (UV) content of daylight causes the active deterioration of the organic materials present. Therefore the

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management of the light, i.e., the reduction of daylight illumination, is the first preventive conservation strategy to be put in place and takes precedence when the Trust is developing a preventive conservation policy. The policy must also embrace the individuality of each house. Providing glazed protection and illuminating textiles using artificial light at otherwise unachievable low light levels can be very intrusive, lending a ‘museum’ quality to the presentation of a house. Where the textile is of great significance, it is sometimes unavoidable; state beds at Knole, Erddig and Calke Abbey are now displayed inside environmentally controlled glazed ‘rooms’, whilst the Calverley Needlework Screen at Wallington is illuminated using fibre optic lighting (Figure 5.2.2).

Light control As textiles are so ubiquitous in houses, and so vulnerable, benchmark standards of light exposure are used. For example, the guidelines suggest a maximum of 50 lux falling on highly lightsensitive materials, and a maximum dose of 150,000 lux hours per annum is applied to show rooms which contain highly light-sensitive materials (Bullock, 2006). These figures are constantly under review, reacting to changes in open hours in the winter months for example. The effect of this benchmarking means that a range of preventive conservation measures are put in place to remove, reduce and control the damaging effects of light: UV-absorbent films are applied to the window glass (unless the glass is itself vulnerable); window shutters, blackout roller blinds and curtains are used when the rooms are closed; sun curtains and roller blinds reduce light levels and, in the latter case, are adjusted in response to daylight levels during open or working hours. All these protection measures need to be renewed periodically, as films degrade over time and roller blinds fail through constant use. When the UV transmitted exceeds 75 microwatts per lumen, the absorbent film is replaced. The costs of such preventive conservation measures are identified by the conservator and inform the conservation budget process.

Light monitoring Hand-held monitors are one method of measuring light levels; the readings are logged on Light Plan sheets by a member of the house team. Light data loggers take readings at regular time intervals and form part of the environmental mapping of a room and house, and contribute to the computerized collections management systems. Blue wool dosimeters are a popular recording device; on average a large house will have six positioned around the house on vulnerable objects, such as textiles. The dosimeters are renewed annually at the beginning of the open season, then scanned for the annual light dose. Should the annual dose exceed 150,000 lux hours in a showroom with highly light-sensitive objects, the need for tighter light management can result in the introduction of a double roller blind system to optimize the control provided by the blinds. Used blue wool dosimeters can show a contrast between the protected and exposed areas of the blue wool. This makes the blue wools an extremely useful engagement tool to demonstrate the effect of light to visitors and volunteer room guides alike – if the blue wool has faded, then the textile it was resting against has also faded.

Relative humidity When relative humidity (RH) fluctuates, organic materials can suffer as they expand and contract, made worse if a textile is held under tension, such as upholstery tacked to a wooden frame

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Figure 5.2.2 The needlework screen. Natural light has been eliminated from the room and instead the screen is lit by fibre optic lights. The fibre optic lenses are incorporated into a metal kick board, the light being projected from the floor up onto the screen, emphasizing the quality of the needlework. The radiator is controlled through the building management system. Images by Andrew McGregor, courtesy of the National Trust, Wallington. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

or a textile adhered onto a timber substrate. However, research shows that textiles manufactured from nominally the same materials behave differently; this can be a function of the weave, the fibres, dyes and finishes, and many other variables. In the National Trust mixed collections it is recommended that, in general, the RH is stabilized so that it sits within the target band of 50–65% RH.

RH monitoring Data loggers collect RH data. The information gathered, often for many years, informs the discussion about which method of environmental control is to be adopted at each individual house. Conservation heating is controlled by electronic humidistats which switch in response to the RH in the room leaving the target bands. When this happens, the humidistats call for heat from the heat source. The heat source can be simple, stand-alone, controlled electric radiators or can develop into a sophisticated building management system (Staniforth et al., 1994).

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Biological agents Textiles, as organic materials, are weakened, consumed and otherwise damaged by moulds, insects and rodents. Keratin, the structural protein of wool, fur and feathers, is consumed by the four species of clothes moths and the two types of beetle known as carpet beetle. The larvae are voracious eaters.

Insect pest monitoring Integrated pest management (IPM) trials are being undertaken at a number of houses. The core of an IPM is a system of good maintenance and housekeeping, a safe, practical and cost-effective method of preventing collections being damaged by pests. Should the house teams observe any changes to the collections, they inform the conservator. The use of insect traps, otherwise known as blunder traps, is routine at all houses. They have been used to catch carpet beetle, while pheromone traps have successfully caught clothes moths. By recording and mapping pest activity in rooms or entire houses, sources of infestations can be found and dealt with as necessary (Child, 2006).

Dust Joint research by the National Trust and other organizations has increased our knowledge and understanding of dust (Lloyd & Lithgow, 2006). Lightweight inorganic particles and airborne dust are moved around a house by air movement; heavier inorganic dust tends to accumulate near the point at which it enters the house. The research has concluded that dust behaves in a predictable way. Dust mobilized by people’s feet rarely rises more than 0.3m above the ground. Visible dust, which constitutes fibres generated from people’s clothing and lightweight inorganic particles, is displaced 0.8 to 1.5m above the ground onto horizontal surfaces such as upholstered furniture and bed covers, the level of deposits falling off above 2m. Therefore, as expected, the nearer objects are to visitor movement or to external doorways or ill-fitting windows, the greater are the dust deposits. Dust and dirt are usually considered an agent of deterioration, unless the deposit has a historical context and significance. If the ideal level of deposits is zero, then anything beyond that causes disfiguration, mechanical or biological problems. As textiles do not have solid surfaces and are pliable, dust particles can penetrate and become enmeshed in the cloth. If the particle is sharp it can cut the fibres, causing, for example, the pile of carpets to wear, especially when the carpet is in daily use.

Dust monitoring Record of Monitoring and Plan of Care Sheets, which are elements within the Collections Management and Care Toolkit, can help with this, and the conservator will help to devise appropriate cleaning regimes for a specific collection. These regimes may bring in a textile conservator at regular intervals to vacuum very fragile or complex items. Alternatively, for more robust surfaces the conservator trains the house team to carry out the vacuum cleaning. This often includes the use of the following dust trial test: Place a small square of butter muslin or gauze over the vacuum cleaner suction tube and then attach the vacuum head, so that the muslin will trap any dust removed. Vacuum clean on a low suction, 20 m.b, a 20cm square of textile, turn off the machine. Examine the muslin

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to see if dust has been removed. If a noticeable greyish brown fluffy deposit is there, then cleaning is needed. At the same time check if the dust is the same colour as the textile, it is worth examining the muslin under a magnifying glass. If you see any colour the textile is breaking up, you should stop vacuuming and seek advice. To work out how often the same surface needs cleaning, repeat the test at intervals say once a year in different areas, bearing in mind that horizontal surfaces will always collect more dust. An all-over grey layer of dust on the muslin will indicate that the textile needs vacuuming. Keeping a detailed record of these tests will help in drawing up an appropriate cleaning regime for each piece (Rendell, 2006: 414–415). Complex cleaning regimes sometimes emerge where component parts of a single object have different requirements. For example, a house may contain a state bed where the curtains are vacuumed every five years by the house team, the bed cover needs vacuuming each year by the house team, and the decorative headboard is vacuumed by a textile conservator every three years. Meticulously recording the technique and any changes to the textile is essential if the guidance is to be followed from year to year and as house staff change.

Condition surveys To log the current condition of textiles in a room or area, a series of survey sheets, including Record of Monitoring and Plan of Care Sheets, contribute to an understanding of a collection and the specific needs of individual textiles. The sheets are completed by the house teams with additional guidance given in the form of ‘Special Instructions’, which record any advice from a textile conservator regarding care or the need for conservation treatment. Watch points identify common causes of deterioration, and drawings, or increasingly digital images, are labelled accordingly. The sheets are reviewed annually or more frequently if prompted by a change of condition. All textile collections are also surveyed by a textile conservator; the survey scores condition, stability and remedial treatment requirements. The tabulated information is then used to prioritize treatment needs, may reflect management concerns such as high levels of dust being found and will also inform the level of funding required for a particular treatment, whether that is in situ or an off-site conservation treatment.

Training and coaching The training of the house teams, or indeed volunteers, who may be involved with the care of the textile collection is crucial. Training is delivered through various structured training days – Housekeeping Study Days, Care of Collection Days, which may look at textiles in detail, and insitu coaching – and is delivered by the portfolio conservator or textile conservator.1 The Record of Monitoring and Plan of Care Sheets are often completed during this training session. The house team members are the National Trust’s eyes and ears, the frontline, who help to achieve the preventive conservation objectives, being the first to raise concerns about an increase in touching by visitors, or a chair seat being repeatedly brushed against.

Access Textiles in historic houses are vulnerable to wear and tear. Sustainable levels of visitor access are constantly being analysed for each major property, and the outcomes will contribute to each

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Property Management Plan. In the showrooms, visitors occasionally touching surfaces as they walk and turn will erode textile surfaces such as carpets, large wall hangings (such as tapestries hanging in narrow corridors which can be brushed against) and curtains. As soon as damage has been identified, control measures are implemented if possible, which could mean introducing ropes and stanchions into a room to provide distance from the visitor, or covering a carpet with a drugget to protect it from the wear of visitors’ feet. The house team is responsible for recording the impact on the collections during the open season, and although the impact of a single year of visiting may seem minimal, cumulative wear and tear may eventually result in physical damage to objects and surfaces.

Storage The same environmental and physical parameters pertain to stored textiles in order to protect those textiles from the agents of deterioration. Although storage can be seen as being beneficial, the storage areas require good management, regular cleaning, checking and monitoring. The use of pest traps is a case in point; they have to be analysed regularly and action taken. Infestations, whether in the store or showrooms, pose a serious threat to whole collections.

Case study: Wallington Needlework Room and the Pigeon Hole The preventive conservation solutions Both rooms are situated on the east side of the house on the first floor. The footprint of the Needlework Room is 6 × 5.5m. The ten needlework panels are incorporated into rococo frames, one between the two windows on the east wall, three on the north wall, four on the west wall and two on the door and fireplace wall. The ten needlework panels have a design influenced by Oriental textiles, worked in polychrome wools and silks on a linen canvas ground with six cross stitches per 10mm. The room also contains oval portraits painted between 1695 and 1709. In addition, there is a set of six chairs upholstered with eighteenth-century canvas work covers and a nineteenthcentury conversation seat covered with velvet and canvas work panels. The floor is covered with a carpet (as seen in Figure 5.2.1). The preventive conservation solutions have been driven by the significance and vulnerability of the textile contents. The Preventive Conservation Audit (Table 5.2.1) shows the measures in place and the ongoing monitoring. Light is managed with UV film on the two windows, annual UV readings are taken and a cycle of renewal of expended UV film is in place throughout Wallington. The windows have wooden shutters, which are opened in the morning for housekeeping work and then remain closed until the house is preparing for opening, reducing the light dose as much as possible. Although the windows were initially hung with single, stone-coloured roller blinds, secondary dark blue blinds have been added to provide additional light control measures. The blind fabrics recommended transmit less than 2% of the light falling on them into the room. The upper portion of the windows is covered by replica festoon curtains, which can be lowered if needed on a particularly bright day. The good management of light can be seen in the light dose recorded by the blue wool dosimeter positioned on the north wall at the base of the needlework panels: Date out 16.07.2021, date in 9.08.2022. Colour change 1.3. Total lux hours 120,000 (below the annual 150,000 lux-hours guideline).

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Preventive conservation solutions for textile collections Table 5.2.1  Preventive Conservation Audit form used to record conditions in the Needlework Room. Preventive Conservation Audit SECTION 3 ROOM: Wallington Needlework Room

RISKS OF PHYSICAL DAMAGE BY FOOTWEAR Druggets, sacrificial carpets RISKS OF DAMAGE BY PESTS Monitoring (sticky traps +/pheromone lures) RISKS OF PHYSICAL DAMAGE BY TOUCHING Stanchions Ropes Polite covers Signage or other deterrents of touching/sitting

Present / Comments

Condition (A–D)

Action

By Whom

Priority 1–4

Sacrificial carpet

A

Monitor

KW

1

Replace annually KW

4

2 sticky traps

Visitors have full access None present On upholstered furniture reads ‘Fragile textile, please refrain from touching’

1 None

RISKS OF DAMAGE BY FLUCTUATIONS IN RH Recording device Logger and control Telemetry HumBug linked to BMS [Building Management System] Control (conservation Wet system part of heating) BMS Low RH caused by borrowed heat from surrounding rooms

RT

1

House and Collections Manager / Conservator

1

Conservator to LL & NB discuss with Environmental Adviser

1

(Continued)

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Caroline Rendell Table 5.2.1  (Continued) Preventive Conservation Audit SECTION 3 ROOM: Wallington Needlework Room Present / Comments RISKS OF DAMAGE BY LIGHT UV filters

Yes

Shutters Sun roller blinds Blackout blinds

Yes Yes, stone Yes, dark blue

Sun curtains Sacrificial dress curtains

Condition (A–D)

Yes, historical pattern (removed date) None present

By Whom

Priority 1–4

Check effectiveness annually and include the replacement cost in the budget round

Conservator

4

Fabric becoming chalky

SD and Conservator

1 3 1

Artificial light Light monitoring Yes -hand held Yes -electronic -blue wool dosimeters Yes one, north wall RISKS OF PHYSICAL DAMAGE BY OVERCROWDING Pinch points RISKS OF DAMAGE BY DISPLAY SYSTEMS

Action

EC Increase blue wools to 2, one on north wall one on south wall Some loose silk KW Complete Plan of Care Sheet

Conversation seat Chairs Panels

Conservator Textile Conservator to check; take photographs to monitor this area

Noted that rusting tacks visible

Hanging systems Support systems

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The Needlework Room is linked into the building management system, which provides the RH control at Wallington. A humidistat controls two radiators in the room. The data shows that the environmental readings are within the National Trust target bands. Although there has been discussion about limiting access into the room, its physical configuration as one of three rooms leading off a small landing precludes this. Therefore visitors have access to the whole room, which enables the embroideries to be inspected and appreciated. However, it has been noticed that the panels beside the door can be touched and brushed against before the Room Guide is able to intervene to discourage any touching of the textiles displayed in the room. To mitigate wear and tear, conservation net has been stretched over the panels beside the door, and the effectiveness of this is being monitored. A one-, two- and three-year cycle of vacuum cleaning of the textiles is in place. The seats of the chairs are vacuumed annually as the build-up of dust is considerable. The lower third of the wall panels on the west wall near the door are vacuumed biannually, whilst the upper panels and chair backs are vacuumed on a three-year cycle. The Record of Monitoring and Plan of Care for the room (Table 5.2.2) show how the conservator works with the house team to develop high standards of care.

Interpretation A painting of the reverse of one panel, revealed during repairs to the panelling in the 1980s, gives an idea of the brilliance of the original silks and wools. There remains a discernible difference in colour between the panel hanging between the windows on the east wall and the panels on the north wall hanging in close proximity to the windows. This differential fading reflects the history of use and past housekeeping regimes since the 1710s which are unknown to us now. These differences are drawn to the attention of the visitors and are used to emphasize the need for the low light levels in the room.

The Pigeon Hole In the Pigeon Hole, the display takes on a ‘museum’ feel and contains the six-fold screen, a portrait of Julia, Lady Calverley, and interpretation sheets relating to the screen. For many years the Calverley Screen was displayed in the Central Hall, and then retired to act as a dividing screen on the East Gallery. This caused concern, and although efforts were made to improve and manage light by providing the screen with a blackout curtain, a major building work project acted as a catalyst for its relocation. As it is a small room, the Pigeon Hole proved to be an ideal location to showcase the screen. The six-fold screen, worked in fine petit point using polychrome wools and silks, was embroidered by Julia, Lady Calverley, in 1727. Her inspiration was Wenceslaus Hollar’s engravings for a 1663 edition of the Roman poet Virgil. Natural light has been eliminated from the room, and instead the screen and painting are lit by fibre optic lights. The fibre optic lenses are incorporated into a metal kick board, the light being projected from the floor up onto the screen, emphasizing the quality of the needlework. The lighting is turned on as the house is being prepared for opening. Environmental control is achieved with an electric heater controlled by a humidistat linked into the building management systems. The screen is vacuumed by a textile conservator on a five-yearly cycle. Monitoring sheets are also used.

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Caroline Rendell Table 5.2.2  The Record of Monitoring and Plan of Care for the Needlework Room. RECORD OF MONITORING AND PLAN OF CARE: TEXTILES Property: Wallington

Region: Yorkshire & N.E

Name of Recorder: CR

Inventory No: Panels Wal.T.16 Chairs Wal.F.164 a-d

Date of Record: October 16 2008

Room: Needlework Room Merit Mark:

Materials and Construction: brief description of object:Needlework panels linen embroidered with coloured wools and silk, used as the pale background. A set of needlework upholstered chairs embroidered with coloured wools and silks. Special instructions from Advisor or Conservator: (where appropriate) Review cleaning regime and carryout dust trials on the panels ( 3 yearly) except at the door which may require annual vacuuming please retain dust trial muslins. Chair seats annual vacuuming. Backs 3 yearly. Use museum vacuum set at 20milli bars and the soft screening. Name: Caroline Rendell

Date: October 16 2008

SKETCH: Give measurements where possible; and use letter code to show problem areas/materials as detailed below Needlework panels are vulnerable as they suffer from overall light damage. Be particularly aware of the pale coloured areas (SILK) Chair Wal .F. 164 b monitor

Watchpoints: (In) Insects Live Wear (Id) Insect Damage

(H) Holes (L) Light Damage

(Md) Mould Growth (Pr) Previous Repair

(T) Tears/Splits

PLAN FOR CARE (Preventive and Interventive Treatment) (To include environment, situation, handling, cleaning, protection, etc.) Chair back to be monitored : move chair from present position to the North Wall Conservator has been informed.

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(S) Stains

(W)

Preventive conservation solutions for textile collections

Figure 5.2.3 Interpretation material explaining how textiles are easily damaged. Images by Andrew McGregor, courtesy of the National Trust, Wallington. Reproduced by kind permission of the National Trust.

To highlight the conservation issues surrounding the needlework screen, a series of panels has been produced which explore the causes of deterioration and show how the National Trust cares for such a significant textile (Figure 5.2.3).

Acknowledgements The author would like to thank the house team at Wallington Hall who are carrying out the monitoring and day-to-day care of the textiles cited in this case study; they in turn are supported by their conservator, John Wynne-Griffith.

References Bullock, L. (2006, reprinted 2011). Light as an agent of deterioration. In The National Trust manual of housekeeping (pp. 92–101). Oxford: Elsevier. Child, R. (2006, reprinted 2011). Biological agents of deterioration. In The National Trust manual of housekeeping (pp. 80–91). Oxford: Elsevier. Lloyd, H. (1995). The role of housekeeping and preventive conservation in the care of textiles in historic houses. In K. Marko (Ed.), Textiles in trust (pp. 40–53). London: Archetype and the National Trust. Lloyd, H. & Lithgow, K. (2006, reprinted 2011). Physical agents of deterioration. In The National Trust manual of housekeeping (pp. 54–67). Oxford: Elsevier. Marko, K. (2006, reprinted 2011). Tapestries, carpets and rugs. In The National Trust manual of housekeeping (pp. 420–433). Oxford: Elsevier. Rendell, C. (2006, reprinted 2011). Textiles. In The National Trust manual of housekeeping (pp. 404–419). Oxford: Elsevier. Staniforth, S. (2006, reprinted 2011). Conservation: principles, practice and ethics. In The National Trust manual of housekeeping. Oxford: Elsevier.

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Caroline Rendell Staniforth, S., Hayes, B. & Bullock, L. (1994). Appropriate technologies for relative humidity control for museum collections housed in historic buildings. In A. Roy & P. Smith (Eds), Preventive conservation. Preprints, IIC, 1994, Ottawa (pp. 123–128). London: IIC. Thomson, G. (1978). The museum environment. Oxford: Butterworth. Trevelyan, R. (2004). Wallington. London: The National Trust.

Notes * Published in 2010, revised in 2024. 1 Using National Trust internal guidelines and house training documents.

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5.3 CONSIDERATIONS ON BACKLIT SYSTEMS FOR DISPLAY OF COTTON TEXTILES* Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano

… since we have to balance, by judgement rather than by scientific formula, […] the amount of light needed for looking at exhibits against the damage which it causes – we are now in the realms of controversy. (Garry Thomson, The Museum Environment)

Introduction Light and textiles have a complex relationship. On the one hand, light is needed not only to look at a fabric, but also to truly appreciate its multiple qualities, among them its lustre, texture, and the fineness of its designs. On the other hand, it is well known that light is an agent of deterioration with tremendous power over textiles. Light changes the colours of dyes and causes structural damage in fibres, which leads to gradual, accumulative, and irreversible damage in the totality of any textile. Research carried out on conservation of cultural heritage has established a range of light levels for these objects, but how valid is it to push those guidelines? How far and under which circumstances could they be pushed? This case study presents a proposal made by the Museo Textil de Oaxaca (MTO) in Mexico to offer a variety of backlit lighting systems for twentieth- and twenty-first-century textiles consisting of white cotton fabric and ornamented with white cotton yarns.

Light exposure and textile conservation Light is a form of energy that may provoke physical and chemical changes in the composition of different materials (Fynn & Dean, 1950: 436–440). For the purposes of this text, it is important to differentiate two concepts: light (also referred to as ‘visible light’) and ultraviolet radiation (UV). Research has clearly established that UV radiation is a major agent of deterioration. Its effects, as well as those caused by visible light, are cumulative and irreversible. However, it is important to fully understand the damaging effects caused by each one of these radiations. It is equally relevant to consider the flexibility that may be gained after such a critical analysis.

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Fibres present different levels of resistance to UV radiation and visible light (Michalski, 1987; Hollen, 2011). Cotton shows medium resistance to light, which makes it stronger than many other fibres (Hollen, 2011). A crucial factor in the process of photo-oxidation of vegetable fibres is the ratio of cellulose and lignin: the latter is more vulnerable to this deterioration, which results in decreased tensile strength. Cotton fibres do not contain lignin, which makes them more resistant to photo-oxidation processes than other cellulosic fibres (Tímár-Balázsy & Eastop, 1998: 18). Damage caused by visible light may not be avoided unless the objects are kept in complete darkness. Considering that one of the main purposes of a collection is to present objects that have been preserved, conservators have adopted different strategies to keep damage at a minimum. The standard parameter is to display textiles at 50 lux; it has also been recommended to keep UV radiation under 75 µW/lm as well as limiting the time of exposure of these objects (Thomson, 1986). Parts of these guidelines are easily met by using certain light sources, such as LEDs; white LEDs do not contain UV or infrared components (Farke et al., 2016: 84). It is important to complement this data with Korenberg’s research: visible light is responsible for colour change in cellulosic textiles. These results must be contextualized within the conditions of her experimental study: samples were artificially aged to simulate an exposure of ten hours per day at 80 lux for 100 years (Korenberg, 2007). The MTO has implemented an LED-based lighting system for its galleries: partially at first and completely integrated in 2014. The Museum has also established a series of guidelines to reduce damage by light: textiles are only displayed during temporary exhibitions (there are no permanent exhibitions), each show lasts from four to five months on average, and the textiles may only be re-exhibited after spending at least one year in complete darkness in storage. Light intensity is evaluated on a case-by-case basis, as will be explained in the following sections. The Conservation and Exhibition Design staff have utilized their knowledge of LED technology and the material characteristics of textiles to propose creative alternatives to display certain textiles.

Textile types for backlit display Since its opening in 2008, the MTO has surprised audiences with its exhibition design because of its simplicity and frequent absence of exhibition cases. The reasons behind these decisions include a relatively low number of visitors concurrently in the galleries, the absence of permanent exhibitions, relatively stable conditions within the galleries, long periods of rest for objects between one show and the next, and constant care through preventive conservation guidelines. Some of the most precious textiles in the MTO’s collections are white cotton textiles ornamented with white cotton yarns. These textile designs are more easily seen when they are backlit. The curator and the exhibition designer aimed to create a system that would increase the visual contrast on these objects in order to help visitors see the motifs and the textures of each work. A variety of textiles have been displayed using a backlit system between 2011 and 2022, including men’s and women’s garments made by Chontal, Mixe, and Mixtec Peoples, as well as bedcovers made in the USA and Philippines. The textiles date from the mid twentieth century to 2015, and all are in good condition. All the textiles are cotton, with a range of hand-spun, hand-woven, partially or fully industrially made. Most are unbleached and undyed. Some of the industrially made textiles are bleached and a few of the bedcovers include textiles with synthetic dyes. Most of the textiles are in the MTO collection except for a few garments which were lent by families who still wear them.

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Backlit lighting systems It was decided that a backlit system would meet the requirements established by the curatorial and design perspectives. This system would increase the contrast among densities found in each textile: low density areas would appear brighter, while high density areas would be darker. Other lighting options, such as spot lights, also emphasize the surface texture of white-on-white textiles; however, they are unable to showcase the transparency and ethereal qualities of textiles. Since 2011, the MTO has developed three different ways to display backlit textiles. The systems are described next, accompanied by diagrams that serve as references to clarify each model. LEDs were chosen for all backlit displays because they emit extremely low infrared and UV radiation. Those found in Oaxaca offer a colour rendering index of 80, which does not offer the best colour appreciation, but manages to fulfil expectations regarding contrast and illuminance.

Light boxes with LED lamps The first proposal in 2011 consisted of independent light boxes directly anchored to the walls of the galleries. The boxes were made of wood panels in the posterior and four lateral walls. For the anterior wall, a sheet of opaque, matt acrylic was used. The lamps were Tecno Lite®, MR11LED/2W/30, colour temperature: 3000K. The lamp had a beam angle of 25° and its illuminance intensity was not dimmable. To decrease such intensity, as well as to diffuse the light beam, up to five layers of white polyester poplin fabric were suspended between the lamp and the acrylic sheet. The boxes were made slightly smaller than the textiles on display. This allowed maximum concealment of the boxes when the viewer was in front of the display. The power cord went out through the bottom wall of the box and was plugged directly into the wall outlet. This system was used to display garments. Each garment was supported with an acrylic rod through the shoulders and suspended from the ceiling to hang 150mm from the light box. This system was used to exhibit a Chontal man’s ensemble and two Mixtec huipils.

Three-dimensional shapes with inner lighting Garments exhibited in 2015 and 2018 were shown three-dimensionally. Custom shapes were made using Fosshape® following the dimensions of each textile. In the interior of each Fosshape® body, LED lamps were used: Philips® 7MR6/LED/F35/827/DIM AF2, colour temperature: 2700K. The beam angle of the lamps was 35° and these were dimmable (Figure 5.3.1). The power cords, as well as the wire cords that were used to suspend the mount and blouse from the ceiling, went through the Fosshape® at the neck area. The power cords connected directly to the electric rails located on the ceiling. The huipil had a similar mount except the power cord went out through an armhole instead of at the neck. Each blouse mount required one lamp, while the huipil-mount needed two because of the width of the garment. Illuminance was reduced in both scenarios by dimming the lamps.

Light boxes with LED strips In 2017 and 2022, the box light system was revisited to display huipils and bedcovers. The box itself was similar with the difference being the use of LED strips instead of an LED lamp. The strips were from the brand ECOKIT®, type 4.8W/865 IP20 400lm/m 110–277V 5M, colour temperature: 6500K. These are not dimmable. Since they were attached to the inner walls of the box,

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Figure 5.3.1 a) Light bulb suspended from the power cords. b) Fosshape® mount with light bulb inside; the power cords go through the neck area of the mount. The mount is held in place by an acrylic rod at shoulder level. c) Blouse with the inner lighting. A wire runs parallel to the power cords to suspend the mount from the ceiling. The power wires connect directly to rails on the ceiling. Diagram by Eva R. Herrera.

the illuminance level at the front of the box diminished significantly. The boxes were suspended from the ceiling, which meant that the power cords ran parallel to the hanging wires of each box. The quilts and blanket were attached to the box using Velcro® strips; the hooked Velcro® was attached to the outer edges of the lateral walls of each box. The huipil was supported in front of the box with an acrylic rod through the shoulders.

Considerations and critical thoughts There are several ways in which contrast may be increased in order to appreciate the details found on textile objects. For the textiles listed above, light was chosen not only as a source of contrast, but also as an attractive display option that could enhance the visitors’ experience within the exhibition (Figure 5.3.2). Though the aesthetic effect from the exhibition design point of view is favourable, the conservation perspective was equally considered. Thomson (1986) provided a standard guideline to keep textiles on display at 50 lux. Michalski (1997) enriched this conversation by assessing several factors that could allow the re-evaluation of such a guideline. Currently, three factors should always be considered in concert: appropriate light levels for safe display, the emission spectra of the light source, and the acceptable time of light 388

Backlit systems for display of cotton textiles

Figure 5.3.2 Left, quilt by Bill Stecher on display; right, blouse by Soledad Tamara Rivas Vásquez on display. Image by Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano.

exposure for the objects in question. Saunders and Kirby (1996: 89–90) reflect on a crucial aspect within this discussion: ‘The choice of an appropriate maximum annual dose must take account of the materials within the work of art and what is deemed to be an acceptable rate of deterioration’. All light sources for backlit displays were LEDs, which means there is no UV radiation. Each textile was on display ten hours per day for an average period of 120 days. By the end of that term, the objects from the Museum’s collections would go back to storage and would remain in darkness. The guidelines established by the Museum dictate a rest period of at least one year before any object is able to go on display again. Additionally, there were no plans for travelling exhibitions with these textiles, so it was known beforehand that they would not be subjected to any additional display in the near future. In the 15 years of operations of the MTO, 1 these textiles have only been displayed for four or five months each. Should these textiles go back on display, the use of the backlit lighting systems would be re-evaluated to assess their pertinence. It is necessary to acknowledge that the light levels of the lighting systems described above have exceeded the usual maximum limit of 50 lux in some cases. The maximum light level registered was 120 lux for the lightbox with LED lamps used in 2011. While this number may seem alarming, it is fundamental to critically analyse it in respect to the total number of lux-hours per year. The results for the maximum limit registered with this lighting system are summarized in Table 5.3.1. By comparing the annual exposure in lux-hours presented in Table 5.3.1, it is evident that the lighting system used in 2011 provides a lower number of lux-hours per year than the recommended guideline for sensitive organic materials. The other lightbox systems register a range of 30 to 80 lux as maximum limits, which means that the annual exposure in lux-hours is 36,000 and 96,000 respectively. These annual numbers reflect 120 days of display during the year. Both scenarios are significantly lower than the standard guideline recommended for sensitive organic materials and, in some cases, even lower than the guideline recommended for highly sensitive organic materials. 389

Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano Table 5.3.1.   Comparison of annual light exposures (*Landrey & Hoag, 2000: 17). Textile display

Light level

Daily exposure (10 hours)

Annual exposure

Lightbox with LED lamps

120 lux

1,200 lux-hours

Lightbox with LED strips

80 lux

800 lux-hours

Fosshape® form with LED lamps

30 lux

300 lux-hours

144,000 lux-hours (120 days display) 96,000 lux-hours (120 days display) 36,000 lux-hours (120 days display)

Recommendation for sensitive organic materials* Recommendation for highly sensitive organic materials*

50 lux

500 lux-hours

14 lux

140 lux hours

182,500 lux-hours (365 days display) 51,100 lux-hours (365 days display)

It is important to note that the lighting systems described above are not considered standard practice within the Museum, and they are not chosen as a part of an automatic process. The backlit textiles at the MTO followed certain criteria, and their display was restricted based on the individual needs of each textile. For example, all of these textiles present technical and material qualities that are difficult to appreciate without backlit lighting. These textiles are entirely made of cotton, a fibre moderately resistant to damage by light. The majority of the textiles displayed with backlit systems are undyed and in good condition. None of them is older than 75 years and some of them were only a couple of years old at the time of the exhibition. Among the latter, textiles were still in use on a regular basis by their owners. The quilt was used by its owner until it was displayed in 2017; it was donated to the museum after exhibition. Some of the blouses that were loaned for display in 2015 are still in use by their owners as of 2023. The objects that include dyed fabrics were quilts made by an American artist in 2015 and had been used on a daily basis at the author’s home. The quilts had just been created a couple of years before the exhibition took place and would be donated to the MTO by the end of the exhibition. Both quilts include a plain backing fabric, a batting in the middle, and a patchwork-based top fabric, which included the dyed fabrics. Both the backing fabric and the batting served to dim the light that reached the top fabric. This decision was informed by the understanding that both quilts would be stored in the dark for a considerable amount of time before they could go on display again. Furthermore, the backlit system allowed detailed comprehension of the technique involved in creating the patchwork tops of the quilts by shedding light – literally – onto the folds and seam lines among the squared and circular pieces of fabric (Figure 5.3.3).

Final remarks Conservation is not an exact science: there are no standard recipes to follow, and, in fact, the profession grows by focused evaluations within specific contexts. The textiles presented in this case study were assessed individually within the parameters of the preventive conservation guidelines established at the MTO. Additionally, the staff involved in the installation of exhibitions explore existing and locally available technology while keeping in mind the financial reality of the institution. This attitude provides a beneficial effect for the conservation of the collections and for the visitors’ experience (Figure 5.3.4). 390

Figure 5.3.3 Quilt by Bill Stecher on display. Note the emphasis on the seam lines. Image by Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano.

Figure 5.3.4 View of the exhibition The Power of an Afterimage: Textile Op Art with a light box on view. Museo Textil de Oaxaca, December 2022–March 2023.  Image by Conrado López.

Hector Manuel Meneses Lozano

Current literature on the deterioration of fibres exclusively originated by the spectrum of visible light is still quite limited. It is easy to find guidelines and recommendations based on fibres and dyes present that specify types of lamps to use, which radiations to avoid, and the time of exposure. However, significantly fewer studies are found that evaluate the effects of visible light on undyed fibres. Additional research of the sort would allow us to make more concrete proposals in relation to the time of exposure of undyed textiles when using lighting systems free of UV radiation. The Museo Textil de Oaxaca has become an important destination in the city of Oaxaca, which results in ample visibility of its exhibition design proposals. The lighting systems explained above have been enjoyed by people from different corners of the world. A version of these systems was recently implemented in Chile during a special event in April 2022. Blouses from Oaxaca were exhibited at the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, in the city of Santiago, using a variation of the MTO Fosshape® mounts with inner lighting. The blouses on display were made by Tamara Rivas, who was so appreciative of the system developed by the MTO to display some of her blouses in 2015 that she proposed to reinterpret the idea of inner lighting for the exhibition in Chile. The proposal was adjusted to locally available materials, the time of exposure, and – most importantly – the creativity of the organizers aided by the invaluable assistance of the Museum staff.2 The author considers that the aggregated value of those professionally trained in conservation is (or should be) their ability to analyse materials and understand the immediate environmental and social context of the collections in their care and the needs of visitors. Such understanding may inspire proposals that benefit the future enjoyment of our cultural heritage. Conservation training programmes should not offer universal solutions. Their goal should be the development of skills in observation and critical analysis in order to propose and evaluate solutions that could fit specific situations. This text suggests that conservation as a profession is far from blindly following norms, but instead aims at making the most out of the knowledge at hand – provided by literature, colleagues, and personal experience – in order to establish the criteria for evaluation and action. Teamwork is fundamental, for the experiences described along these lines have only been possible thanks to the feedback and creativity of the author’s colleagues at the Museum. Flexibility and an open mind are crucial to achieve an effective communication between the objects safeguarded at a museum and the communities that have imbued them with life and meaning.

Acknowledgements The author wishes to express his gratitude to his colleagues at the MTO, especially those involved in creating mounting displays and installations: Eva R. Herrera, Laura Santiago, Manuel Matías, and Conrado López. Thank you as well to mentors and colleagues for reviewing this text in the original manuscript in Spanish: Lorena Román, Iliana López, and Nicolás Gutiérrez. Special thanks to Joel Stephenson for her feedback on the English version.

References Farke, M., Binetti, M. & Hahn, O. (2016). Light damage to selected organic materials in display cases: a study of different light sources. Studies in Conservation, 61(1), 83–93. Fynn, P.J. & Dean, J.D. (1950). Effect of light on cotton textiles. Yearbook of agriculture, United States ­Department of Agriculture. Washington DC: Government Print Office. Hollen, N. (2011). Introducción a los textiles [Introduction to textiles]. Mexico City: Limusa. Korenberg, C. (2007). The effect of ultraviolet-filtered light on the mechanical strength of fabrics. The British Museum Technical Research Bulletin, 1, 23–27.

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Backlit systems for display of cotton textiles Landrey, G.J. & Hoag, R.W. (2000). General care. In O. Rollins (Ed.), The Winterthur guide to caring for your collection (pp. 9–17). Delaware: The Henry Francis du Pont Winterthur Museum. Michalski, S. (1987). Damage to museum objects by visible radiation and ultraviolet radiation. In Lighting museums, galleries and historic houses (pp. 3–16). Bristol: Museums Association, UKIC & Interpreters in Museums. Michalski, S. (1997). The lighting decision. In (n.e.), Symposium 97. Fabric of an exhibition: an interdisciplinary approach. Preprints, CCI & NATCC, 1997, Ottawa (pp. 97–104). Ottawa: CCI. Saunders, D. & Kirby, J. (1996). Light-induced damage: investigating the reciprocity principle. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 1996, Edinburgh (pp. 87–90). London: James & James. Thomson, G. (1986) The museum environment. Second edition. London & New York: Routledge. Tímár-Balázsy, Á. & Eastop, D. (1998.) Chemical principles of textile conservation. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann.

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 The MTO opened to the public on 19 April 2008. 2 The mounts were made by Soledad Queupil and Carolina Olivares, members of the Escuela de Arte Textil Ad Llallin. On behalf of the Museum, Jonatan Galaz was in charge of installing all the electric components that were needed.

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5.4 WORKING WITH SYNTHETIC FIBRES* The response of textile conservation to twentieth-century dress Sarah Howard Introduction Twentieth-century dress has been referred to as a time bomb waiting to explode in museum collections (Palmer, 2006). This is in part due to the new semi-synthetic and synthetic fibres and decorations that were developed during this time. It is becoming evident that these modern materials are exhibiting signs of breakdown, sometimes in a dramatic and rapid way, and the nature of their deterioration and the speed with which this can occur are concerns for those who care for collections. This is a very present issue for conservators in the twenty-first century and is an evolving chapter in the experience of textile conservation. This case study examines why synthetic materials are increasingly present in, and important to, museum collections and how textile conservation can respond to their care and survival.

The growth of synthetic materials in museum dress collections In discussions regarding museum dress collections, the term ‘modern materials’ is often used to describe predominantly semi-synthetic fibres, which are natural polymers chemically altered to enhance their characteristics, or synthetic/man-made fibres, which are completely chemically produced (Van Oosten, 2022). These fibres have either a natural base such as the regenerated cellulosics, for example rayon, which rose to dominance in the 1920s and 1930s, or the totally synthesized fibres such as nylon, which heralded the profusion of new fibres initiated by technological developments in the 1950s (Mossman, 2020; Van Oosten, 2022). The range of semi-synthetic and synthetic materials in museum dress collections and their intrinsic value as documents of the past have grown in recent years. More synthetic fabrics are present in collections than ever before as these materials became an important characteristic of fashion and everyday life in the twentieth century (Quye, 2019). They reflect the technological changes of that period that meant they were easily available and therefore cheaper to use on a mass scale for ready-to-wear garments (Van Oosten, 2022). The properties of synthetic materials revolutionized the clothing market, and their versatility and low cost provided many benefits for the wearer such as comfort and easy care, increasing their desirability (Mossman,

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2020). Synthetic fibres also have a wide reach beyond the realms of fashion where advances in technology have enhanced the characteristics of clothing designed for specific activities such as sports and occupational wear. As museums strive to reflect the social and economic values and significant changes of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, it is inevitable that the increase in synthetic materials entering collections will continue apace and not just in those museums with specific dress collections. The growth in quantity and use of synthetic materials has also gained greater significance in the museum context as an appreciation of the everyday garment, not just the special or couture, is more widely understood. The opportunity to view these items in museums offers a means of connecting the visitor with their own recent past and brings a sense of nostalgia which is now perceived as an important element of a museum visit (Black, 2005). The visitor experience has been enhanced by an understanding in museum interpretation of the need to link with the immediate past through projects such as reminiscence schemes, and at the same time the opportunity to touch and handle objects is seen as providing a way of reconnecting with that personal experience (Walsh, 1992). The power that touching an object can engender is readily understood, and the intimacy and connection that it can bring has led to more requests to see twentieth-century materials in particular as they are within living memory (Pye, 2007). The popularity of dress exhibitions that reflect twentieth-century popular culture, iconic designers, and cultural icons demonstrates audience interest in, and connection with, collections which by their nature comprise a variety of synthetic materials (Pinnock, 2019).

The impact of twentieth-century collections for the textile conservator The increase in synthetic materials in museum collections, their importance, and the demand for this material are significant for the conservator. Items of dress made using them provide an often complex mix of material types, and all demonstrate different behaviours and responses to the environment in which they were once used and are now stored (Dewhurst, 2014; Quye, 2019; DATS, 2022). Synthetic fabrics created ephemeral garments which were not always able to withstand extensive use and wear. Long-term survival was not intended. Labour-saving washing machines and biological washing powder have had an impact on the survival of these garments too. The structure of these materials potentially makes them unstable in the long term, often unpredictably so, as they have been synthesized from a number of different products using complicated and aggressive manufacturing techniques (Van Oosten, 2022). Other elements, such as the antistatic agents and finishes that are added to improve their properties and the ultimate wearability of the material, can have a dramatic impact on their ageing (Blank, 1990). The dyes and dyeing processes also play their part in the instability of a fibre as well as the actual construction of a garment and how the material came into contact with the wearer (Mossman, 1992; Dewhurst, 2014). Fortunately, there is a growing body of research readily available for the conservator and curator to consult, which reflects the increase in these materials in museum collections and their preservation concerns. A revision of this case study has benefitted from the wealth of information that has become available since its original composition. Research continues to assist with the identification and understanding of the properties of a range of synthetic materials and helps to define the characteristics of their ageing (Quye, 2019; DATS, 2022; Van Oosten, 2022). The data can help guide strategies and determine approaches to preservation. The collaboration between conservators, conservation scientists, and curators will continue to play a vital role in enhancing knowledge and the sharing of experiences.

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An approach to the care of twentieth-century dress at Hampshire Cultural Trust Hampshire Cultural Trust is an independent charity, formerly the local government-funded Hampshire County Council Museums and Archives Service. It supports arts and cultural attractions across the county with a headquarters in Winchester for stores, resources, and specialist staff. Included in its cultural heritage collections is a Dress and Textiles collection, which incorporates twentieth-century fashions. In the early 2000s it was evident that, with a greater number of synthetic materials entering the collection and increased demand for access to it, its care and management had to be reconsidered. One of the main weapons in a textile conservator’s arsenal is to prevent damage from occurring as soon as the item enters a museum collection. To slow down degradation reactions is a key element in the care of twentieth-century material, especially as decay can be very rapid. As part of a strategy to review all museum collections in the early 2000s, a collections audit process was established across all stored collections, which proved an ideal opportunity to assess the twentieth-century collections in detail. The audit process commenced with dress from the 1950s onwards as, at the time, this was a decade from which most public donations and enquiries were originating. One of the first benefits of the audit process was the identification of similar deterioration signs across various items of dress. Examples of this could be seen with several 1950s white polyester wedding dresses displaying small brown spot marks on the surface, which scientific analysis identified as a reaction of a finish added to the polyester fibres. Also, cracking, delamination, and migration of plasticizers of PVC (polyvinyl chloride) had been observed in two pairs of boots, a skirt, and several coats dating to the mid 1960s (Quye & Williamson, 1999; Van Oosten, 2022). In response to these observations, it was decided that certain items of clothing that are predominantly constructed of known vulnerable materials such as PVC and rubber should be isolated in the stores away from the main collection. The inherent characteristics of the adapted nineteenthcentury brick building that housed the dress and textiles collection were considered, and items that were composed from 25% or more of vulnerable semi-synthetic and synthetic materials were moved to a cooler north-facing, downstairs room with a dehumidifier in operation. This was in accordance with research that identifies temperature and humidity as a trigger to the deterioration of these material types (Blank, 1990; Quye & Williamson, 1999). All boxes in this store were given a large red-coloured label placed on the outside of the box to highlight at-risk collections (Figure 5.4.1). Where appropriate, the boxes were lined with silicone release paper to prevent objects that were tacky or that could potentially become sticky from adhering to anything that they rested against. Such items, including a collection of rubber bathing hats and a pair of rubber bathing shoes, were lined and padded with silicone release paper in order that their shape would not be lost or become distorted. The sides of the hats could easily collapse in on themselves and become either tacky or brittle (Figure 5.4.2). Much research has been undertaken on the benefits of providing a low oxygen environment for rubber-based objects and those with additional cellulose acetate elements using oxygen scavengers or nitrogen in a controlled, isolated environment (Quye & Williamson, 1999; Skals & Shashoua, 2006). However, whilst it was recognized that this is a way of dramatically slowing down the deterioration of rubber, there were practical issues when dealing with a collection of differently sized garments containing rubber components or totally made of rubber, and that were used on a regular basis for study or display. Adsorbents need to be replaced when they become exhausted, which needs careful management (Shashoua, 2014). With time, staffing, and budget constraints, the use of adsorbents is not always practical as a regular collections management tool. 396

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Figure 5.4.1 The storage of rubber and synthetic items of dress at Hampshire Cultural Trust. © Hampshire County Council. Provided by Hampshire Cultural Trust.

Figure 5.4.2 A 1970s rubber bathing hat showing distortions and tacky elements that had become adhered to acid-free tissue paper previously used to line the storage box. © Hampshire County Council. Provided by Hampshire Cultural Trust.

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A further benefit of the early 2000s audit process was the photography of the twentieth-century collections. Photography had previously been undertaken in preparation for display, so the vast majority of the twentieth-century collections had never been recorded. It was recognized that photography would be an important part of their preservation as a means of benchmarking the condition of the items as well as reducing the need for physical access to them. Digital photography meant that this was a much quicker and easier process to undertake. As part of the audit process, even quick snapshots were deemed helpful. As known vulnerable objects deteriorate beyond salvage and are disposed of, this photographic record enables museums in the future to have an image of these items as a means of documenting the past. The majority of the twentieth-century dress collections had been stored vertically in wardrobes on padded hangers. Garments that had entered the collection in apparently good condition and relatively close to the time of their original use had already begun to reveal signs of deterioration. For example, foam paddings used at the shoulders of some 1980s jackets and dresses were beginning to collapse or crumble and lose their shape. It was decided to remove these items from vertical storage on padded coat hangers and store them flat in boxes to relieve any tension on this vulnerable component of the garment. Similarly, concern over the effects of gravity, tension, and the unknown tensile strength of certain synthetic fabrics such as those made from nylon and polyester, especially evening and wedding dresses with voluminous and weighty skirts, meant that it was considered more appropriate in some instances to store potentially vulnerable items flat to reduce the risk of distortion and damage. The display of twentieth-century materials at Hampshire Cultural Trust has been treated in the same way as any textile item in terms of lighting, temperature, and humidity considerations. Mannequins and support for items on display ensure garments are not put under undue strain, especially those with a slight stretch as part of their design, to eliminate the possibilities of distortion. Particular care has been taken of garments that may have once contained an element of stretch due to the presence of elastane and rubber as these may no longer regain their form once stretched (Petzold, 2006; DATS, 2022).

Reflections from a review in 2022 After some 20 years since the changes in the collections management strategy for the storage of synthetic materials had been undertaken, a brief review of some of the most vulnerable items in the collection was undertaken in 2022. Time constraints allowed only a small sample of the twentieth-century collection to be visually assessed, but its findings were useful nonetheless. The main observation was that the general storage approach adopted had helped to slow the deterioration process of the vast majority of the synthetic materials viewed. Signs of deterioration noted in the early 2000s, such as those on the 1950s polyester wedding dresses, had not significantly changed during the intervening time. Storing potentially vulnerable synthetic materials flat in boxes rather than vertically on hangers had helped to remove potential pressure points and tensions. Storing items containing a high percentage of the most vulnerable synthetic materials separately has meant that they can be monitored more easily, and the environment can be more carefully managed. Only small changes were observed, and the rate of this change seems to have been slow. For example, a small number of white accretions, presumably plasticizers, had appeared on the surface of the PVC of the 1960s skirt (Figure 5.4.3), and on one of the coats the migration of plasticizers was more evident than it had previously been. Photography undertaken in the early

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Figure 5.4.3 Left, a mid 1960s skirt which showed cracking and delaminating PVC in the early 2000s. Right, the skirt photographed ten years later, showing a small increase in the white surface accretions. Left, © Hampshire County Council. Provided by Hampshire Cultural Trust. Right, © Hampshire Cultural Trust.

2000s proved a useful aid to determine the extent of this damage. The silicone release paper has been of particular support with the storage of the most vulnerable semi-synthetic materials such as the rubber items and could easily be peeled away from tacky surfaces. However, the review highlighted the challenges of applying an overall modified approach to the storage of semi-synthetic materials. It was noted that some of the bathing hats remain flexible and supple, whilst others have continued to deteriorate and have become rigid and brittle despite storage interventions. The differing rates of decline indicate that inherent factors prevail despite adapted storage conditions. Such nuances in deterioration remain a challenge especially where budgets and resources are restricted. The 2022 review highlighted items that had been acquired for the collection in the intervening years since the early 2000s audit; for example, an item displayed in an exhibition focusing on teenage fashions that included decorative elements torn from plastic shopping bags. Its presence in this part of the stores was pleasing to note as this revealed an understanding that, although new, this item would require specific future monitoring. However, the ephemeral nature of the garment and its mass-produced and cheap components hint that it may well show signs of degradation in a relatively short time frame (Stevens, 2019).

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Future considerations There continue to be challenges that will confront textile conservators as twentieth-century collections age and twenty-first-century collecting expands. Textile conservation will need to adapt to an ever-increasing number of synthetic fibres including smart and electronic textiles and biodegradable fabrics (Mossman, 2020). Museums will continue to be more selective about what they collect due to pressures on available storage space. The cost of adapting stores to suit the specific needs of certain synthetic materials will potentially only be possible for those museums which can accommodate such budgets and which have staff to manage them. Resources will need to be increasingly focused on providing optimum value and meeting the most pressing demands as museums strive to be sustainable and carbon neutral as well as adapt to the challenges of climate change. With tighter budgets and greater reliance on contract conservation and curatorial staff to support dress and textile collections for specific and funded projects (as opposed to permanent members of staff), the holistic and systematic approach to regular collections management will no doubt be impacted. The drive for exhibitions that focus on twentieth- and twenty-first-century collections places pressure on the available time staff have to record, identify, and monitor synthetic materials as well as research new methodologies for their interventive conservation. Training, conferences, and the role of professional networks will continue to be key in ensuring an appreciation of the history and interpretation of synthetic materials as well as instilling greater confidence in their identification and care (DATS, 2022). In terms of any preparatory work, to ensure that a synthetic garment can be displayed safely and well, the traditional techniques used by textile conservators will have to evolve as stitched supports may not always be applicable. Individual objects will have to be treated on a case-by-case basis, and as new technologies become available, the conservator may find themselves having to adapt knowledge and skills accordingly. Treatments will potentially reflect a lesser desire for reversibility as irreversible consolidation may become necessary to maintain form and material life spans (Bechtold et al., 2014). These challenges will be met by a continued cross-disciplinary approach to the preservation of synthetic materials and the continued sharing of experiences. Alongside potential changes in techniques, there is a need to address any personal prejudices about treating items from within living memory. A non-prejudicial attitude to conservation needs to be considered in relation to the recent and everyday. The role of textile conservation in the future may well be to oversee the survival of the fittest in terms of object decay (Rowe, 2021). Conservators will be required to support and facilitate disposal when an object loses function and meaning, and as the relative cost of storing such items can no longer be justified (Stevens, 2019; Rowe, 2021). The conservator may also have to accept that the long-term preservation of an object will, in some cases, only be possible through its virtual survival via extensive recording set against an understanding of its wider cultural context (Bechtold et al., 2014).

Conclusions Detailed information about the deterioration of plastics and synthetic fibres is more widely available as a result of the increased awareness of this material in museum collections. This offers assistance for the textile conservator in determining how to deal with twentieth-century items, but it does not provide all the answers needed. Research is vital in providing more informed strategies and gaining an understanding of how these modern materials can survive into the future.

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The early 2000s Hampshire Museums audit and its 2022 review has provided an informative overview of its twentieth-century dress collection. The majority of the collection remained in a stable condition with notable exceptions as outlined above. Ongoing monitoring will be able to assess whether further changes may be necessary to support elements of this collection. Anxiety about the long-term survival of synthetic materials may therefore be misplaced as the availability of so much recent research helps to guide and determine strategies, and conservators can build on and adapt approaches already in place. Only time and greater experience will begin to provide even better-informed solutions to collections care.

Acknowledgements The author would like to thank Hampshire Cultural Trust for their kind permission to use the images in this article and for enabling a review of the condition of items of twentieth-century dress in 2022. The author would also like to thank the Textile Conservation Centre, whose assistance in the early 2000s helped with fabric identification in the museum’s collections at the time.

References Bechtold, T, Van Oosten, T. & Griffith, R. (2014). The material of many possibilities: a discussion about the conservation of plastics. The GCI Newsletter, Conservation in Perspective, Spring, 18–24. Black, G. (2005). The engaging museum. Developing museums for visitor involvement. London: Routledge. Blank, S. (1990). An introduction to plastics and rubbers in collections. Studies in Conservation, 35, 53–63. DATS (Dress and Textile Specialists) in partnership with Plastics Specialist Subject Network (2022). Curating semi-synthetic and synthetic fibres and fabrics. Available from: https://dressandtextilespecialists.org. uk/toolkits Dewhurst, T. (2014). In at the deep end – understanding historic swimwear collections: materials, degradation and a method of preservation. Confronting plastics preservation. Seminar, Plastics Subject Specialist Network and the Plastics Historical Society. Available from: https://www.modip.ac.uk/research/ confronting-plastics-preservation/confronting-plastics-preservation-papers Mossman, S. (1992). The problems of synthetic fibres. Polymer Preprints, 33, 662–663. Mossman, S. (2020). Acrylic fibres. Online lecture, Icon together at home, 34. Available from: https://www. icon.org.uk/resource/lecture-34-sue-mossman.html Palmer, A. (2006). ‘A bomb in the collection’: researching and exhibiting early 20th century fashion. In C. Rogerson & P. Garside (Eds), The future of the 20th century: collecting, interpreting and conserving modern materials (pp. 41–47). London: Archetype. Petzold, L. (2006). Early elastic threads and fibres in clothing. In C. Rogerson & P. Garside (Eds), The future of the 20th century: collecting, interpreting and conserving modern materials (pp. 48–52). London: Archetype. Pinnock, O. (2019). The growing popularity of fashion exhibitions. Forbes, 14 March. Available from: https://www.forbes.com/sites/oliviapinnock/2019/03/14/the-growing-popularity-of-fashion-exhibitions/ ?sh=3967828ebbb1 Pye, E. (Ed.) (2007). The power of touch. Walnut Creek CA: Left Coast Press. Quye, A. (2019). Tips for plastics in museum collections. Museums Association. Available from: https:// www.museumsassociation.org/museums-journal/in-practice/2019/04/15042019-plastics-collections-tipsfor-plastics-collections/ Quye, A. & Williamson, C. (1999). Plastics – collecting and conserving. Edinburgh: NMS Publishing. Rowe, S. (2021). Introduction. Plastics in Peril. Available from: https://www.museums.cam.ac.uk/blog/2021/05/18/ plastics-in-peril-conference-videos-go-live/ Shashoua, Y.R. (2014). A safe place – storage strategies for plastics. The GCI Newsletter, Conservation in Perspective, Spring, 13–15.

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Sarah Howard Skals, I. & Shashoua, Y.R. (2006). Sticky oilskins and stiffened rubber: new challenges for textile conservation. In C. Rogerson & P. Garside (Eds), The future of the 20th century: collecting, interpreting and conserving modern materials (pp. 84–91). London: Archetype. Stevens, A. (2019). Trouble in store. Museums Association. Available from: https://www.museumsassociation.org/museums-journal/in-practice/2019/04/15042019-plastics-collections-trouble-in-store/ Van Oosten, T. (2022). Properties of plastics, a guide for conservators. Los Angeles: GCI. Walsh, K. (1992). The representation of the past. London: Routledge.

Note * Published in 2010, revised in 2024.

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5.5 IDENTIFICATION OF PLASTICS AND IMPROVEMENT OF THEIR STORAGE AT THE KYOTO COSTUME INSTITUTE* Moe Sato Introduction The Kyoto Costume Institute (KCI) was established in 1978 and is maintained primarily through donations made by the Wacoal corporation, a top Japanese lingerie company. It fulfils the need for an institution in Japan where western fashion can be systematically collected, researched, preserved and exhibited. There are around 13,000 western costumes from the seventeenth century to the present day, including historical garments, underwear, shoes and fashion accessories. The collections are composed of a wide range of materials, and, among them, plastics are currently some of the most vulnerable and problematic objects. Many of these materials are made of ephemeral components riddled with inherent vice, which were never intended for long-term use. In the summer of 2016, the KCI uncovered a problem with a fan in its collection. The fan was produced at the start of the twentieth century and was believed to have a tortoiseshell handle. This handle was now yellowing, stiffening, and also emitting an unusual smell (Figure 5.5.1). Furthermore, it was degrading other objects placed inside the same storage case. When the author encountered the object, several images of degraded fans from previous case studies (Quye & Williamson, 1999: 94; Paulocik, 2016: 67) indicated that the handle was actually made of cellulose nitrate (CN), a material used to imitate tortoiseshell. CN was commonly used as a tortoiseshell imitation in accessories and ornaments produced from the mid nineteenth century onwards. Though it is often clear when artworks like paintings and sculptures were produced, this is not the case when collecting accessories and ornaments. As such, it is often difficult to ascertain whether objects like fans, combs or glasses are made of tortoiseshell and ivory or imitation materials like CN and cellulose acetate (CA). However, it is possible to determine object materials through analyses using Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy (FTIR). It is widely accepted in the field of textile and costume conservation that CN, CA, polyvinyl chloride (PVC), polyurethane, elastic and fully vulcanized hard rubber (ebonite and vulcanite) are malignant plastics (Paulocik & Williams, 2002; Williams, 2002). As it degrades with age, CN releases harmful, corrosive nitrogen dioxide, so it needs to be immediately isolated and ventilated (Matsumura et al., 2002; Paulocik, 2016). Having been alerted to the presence of these plastics

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Figure 5.5.1 The degraded handle of a feather fan (AC2065) which showed yellowing and stiffening. © The Kyoto Costume Institute.

in the collection, the KCI needed to identify malignant plastics within its collection and ascertain their state of degradation before undertaking necessary preservation and conservation treatment, including the optimization of storage methods. As the KCI does not have analytical equipment and only had a limited budget for analysis, this case study was planned using non-destructive identification techniques (indicator strip tests, air quality monitoring and morphological observations) to identify malignant plastics in costumes and accessories in the KCI’s collection. However, as the author was able to work with a conservation scientist who could conduct in-situ analysis at the KCI, FTIR analysis was simultaneously undertaken to compare and back up the results of the non-destructive identification techniques.

Experimental methodology Cresol red indicator strips Indicator strip tests were used to try to identify plastic objects that had started to degrade. It was not possible to detect nitrogen dioxide or acetic acid emitted by CN and CA respectively by an FTIR analysis. A cresol red (o-Cresolsulfonphthalein) test was used to detect nitrogen dioxide emitted by degraded CN. The colour transition range of cresol red is pH 0.2 (red or orange) => pH 1.8 (yellow) => pH 8.8 (reddish purple). The cresol red indicator paper turns from yellow to red when exposed to acidic nitrogen dioxide (Hatchfield, 2004; Shashoua, 2008: 200). Cellulose filter paper (WhatmanTM, No. 1, 9.0cm) was dipped into a cresol red aqueous solution (0.04% w/v) for five minutes and then dried for 24 hours. The filter paper was cut into strips and placed close to the target objects, with the evaluation made 24 hours later. The cresol red test was used on 98 objects from the KCI’s collection that were thought to be made of tortoiseshell or CN, with the results compared with the FTIR analysis.

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Acid Detection strips Acid Detection (AD) strips were developed by the Image Permanence Institute (IPI) for use in the identification of acetate-based photographic film deterioration.1 The active regent in the strips is bromocresol green that changes from blue (at pH 5.4) to yellow (at pH 3.8), which indicates the production of acetic acid. Acidity degradation is evaluated based on four colour changes (levels 0–3). Blue (0) indicates a good condition, green (1) indicates the start of degradation, yellowish green (2) indicates degradation is well underway, while yellow (3; pH 3.8 or less) indicates the object is in critical condition (Shashoua, 2008: 200–201; IPI, 2016: 1). While developed for the specific detection of acetic acid, AD strips are often used to detect the onset of nitrogen oxide production by cellulose nitrate. The strips also progressively change colour in accordance with the increasing degradation of cellulose acetate, though it is noteworthy that this colour change did not take place with CN (Shashoua, 2008: 200–201; IPI, 2016: 8). The strips were placed in proximity to the object to be monitored for 24 hours and evaluated promptly because the colour soon reverts to blue after removal from the test enclosure. In order to compare the results with those of the cresol red test, a total of 31 objects was surveyed, including several objects identified as CN or CA in an FTIR analysis and two well-preserved CA shoe-heels. Objects that had given a positive reaction during cresol red tests were already seriously degraded and needed to be isolated. As such, they were excluded from this survey.

Air quality monitoring Many degraded plastic objects emit an odour of volatile matter during analysis. Air quality monitoring using the gas detector tube method was carried out for objects that emitted the characteristic plastic smell. The gas detector tube method involves drawing air into a detector tube. Gas in the air reacts with a specific chemical agent inside the tube, and the detector changes colour to indicate the concentration of the gas. The tubes are divided into passive and active types. Passive-type tubes are exposed to the target atmosphere for several hours. As the air enters the detection tube through natural diffusion, it reacts with a chemical agent and detector inside the tube. Active-style tubes use a pump to mechanically suck in the air (Sano et al., 2010: 119). This research used passive dositubes to measure the nitrogen dioxide emitted by the fan AC2065, the most degraded of all the target CN objects. AC2065 was sealed for 24 hours in an archival storage box measuring 670mm long, 410mm wide, 50mm high, and with a capacity of 15l. The lid was then opened temporarily and passive dositubes for nitrogen dioxide2 placed next to the fan handle for 17 hours.

FTIR analysis A non-destructive instrumental analysis was carried out on site at the KCI by Professor Masahiko Tsukada, Tokyo University of the Arts, using a portable FTIR. The analysis targeted fans, combs, glasses, handbags and other objects sometimes found to contain CN or CA. It also targeted objects listed in the KCI’s database as made of tortoiseshell or ivory, as CN or CA may actually have been used as imitation materials. Interviews were also carried out with those involved in the long-term management of the KCI’s collection. They were asked which items exuded a noticeable stickiness or smell. A total of 149 dresses, shoes, hats and other costume items were selected for FTIR analysis based on the database check and the interviews. The study used the external reflection measurement module of the Compact FTIR Spectrometer Alpha (Bruker Optics). The objects were scanned 64 times at a wave number range of 4000–400cm-1, a spectral resolution of 4cm-1 and a

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measurement area of approximately 10mm in diameter. After using the Kramers–Kronig conversion technique where needed, an analysis was undertaken using reference spectra from the Plastics Group of America’s ResinKitTM and the spectral library (Price et al., 2009).

Morphological observations and improvement of storage methods Morphological observations were undertaken to detect signs of degradation unique to each type of plastic (delamination, blanching and powdering, etc.). Collection objects were classified by malignant plastic, with a condition check then undertaken and the preservation state of each object ranked either A (Good), B (Fair), C (Poor) or D (Unacceptable). It was assessed that D-ranked objects needed to be dealt with promptly because they were the most degraded. The storage methods were improved for each rank of object, starting with D-ranked objects.

Results and discussion Cresol red indicator strips The handle of the feather fan (AC2065; Figure 5.5.1) which started this research showed a positive reaction after several hours. The frame of a handbag (AC1422) from c.1901–1920 and the handle of a feather fan (AC2067) from c.1901–1910 both showed a positive reaction. The handbag had no external signs of significant degradation, but the metal used for the fastening clips was rusting and there was also red rust inside the handbag. No damage was observed on nearby objects. The feather fan (AC2067) had been stored next to the CN feather fan (AC2065). Significant damage was found when AC2065 was removed for isolation. Rust was found on the metal fittings of nearby objects, for example, while the accession number cards had stiffened and tears were observed in tissue paper. It was initially believed that rust on AC2067’s metal fittings was induced by AC2065, but the cresol red test revealed that AC2067 itself was also emitting nitrogen dioxide. An FTIR analysis, as described below, revealed that the feather fan (AC2067) and the handbag (AC1422) both contained CN, with the indicator test strips and the FTIR analysis both yielding the same results.

AD strips Three objects stored inside archival storage boxes were at level 0 (in good condition), while 28 objects stored on plywood storage shelves were at level 1 (degradation had started). Plywood emits a volatile organic compound, so the 28 objects on the shelves had to be measured in a separate environment, away from the influence of the plywood. The objects were sealed in polyethene bags for 2–4 days and then tested to measure which volatile substances they were emitting. The results revealed that 11 of the 28 objects were at level 0 (in good condition), 16 were at level 1 (degradation had started) and one was level 2 (degradation was well underway). The 17 level 1 or 2 objects showed a negative reaction during the cresol red test, which suggests the AD strip test can sometimes detect potential malignant plastics when the cresol red test does not. Of these, red rust was discovered inside the level 1 handbags AC1426 and AC1445, with rusting underway on the metal used for the fastening clips. An FTIR analysis, as described below, revealed both items contained CN. An FTIR analysis of a level 2 vanity case also identified CA, but at that time there were no signs of rusting or other degradation. AD strips were also placed in several locations on 406

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each storage shelf, with each strip showing signs of level 1 degradation, confirming that the plywood storage shelves were creating an acidic environment.

Air quality monitoring Passive dositubes were used to measure the amount of nitrogen dioxide emitted by the fan (AC2065) which was the most degraded of all the CN objects. An average nitrogen dioxide concentration of 120ppb/hr was recorded after 17 hours. These numerical values about the volume of nitrogen dioxide emitted by CN objects could be used as indicators for the degradation level of the objects; further research is required.

FTIR analysis As a result of the FTIR analysis, 149 objects were classified by material, as outlined in Figure 5.5.2. Fifty-six objects (37%) were made of natural materials like tortoiseshell, ivory or mother-of-pearl, while 89 objects (60%) were made of malignant plastics like CN, CA or PVC, and a further four objects (2.7%) were made of casein plastic or silicon. The FTIR analysis revealed that tortoiseshell and casein plastic had quite similar protein spectra, so external observations were also used to distinguish between these two materials. The handle of the feather fan (AC2065) was identified as CN, supporting the result of the cresol red test. FTIR analysis was able to distinguish between materials which had a similar appearance. Figure 5.5.3 shows the FTIR absorption index spectra of a fan with a tortoiseshell handle (AC2068) and a fan with a CN handle (AC2067) (Hainschwang & Leggio, 2006: 44; Shashoua, 2008: 257). AC2068 and AC2067 are both similar types of feather fan, and it was not possible to determine the handle materials through observation alone.

Figure 5.5.2 The results of FTIR analysis. A total of 149 objects were analysed and classified by material. 

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Figure 5.5.3 Comparison between FTIR absorption index spectra of a) tortoiseshell: top, the handle of fan AC2068 (black) and bottom, reference sample from a tortoiseshell ring (red); and b) CN: top, the handle of fan AC2067 (black) and bottom, absorption spectrum of CN from the spectral library (red). Absorption index spectra were obtained by K–K transformation of reflectance spectra and baseline correction. © The Kyoto Costume Institute.

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Morphological observations and improvement of storage methods After checking the condition of 93 objects identified as plastic in the FTIR analysis, 51 CN objects, 20 CA plastics and three casein plastic objects were ranked as A (Good), four CN objects and three CA objects as B (Fair), one CA object, five PVC objects and one silicon object as C (Poor) and five CN objects as D (Unacceptable). The five D-ranked objects were swiftly isolated from the other objects and moved to the anteroom. Individual archival storage boxes were prepared for the two CN feather fans (AC2065, AC2067) and the three CN handbags (AC1422, AC1426 and AC1445). Four gas absorption sheets (GasQ® sheets) were placed inside each box to provide further protection for the objects.3 The handle of AC2067 was also wrapped in two GasQ® sheets (Figure 5.5.4). Acid-free paper was then placed on top and the objects stored inside. GasQ® sheets are made of gas adsorption materials that utilize zeolite high-density crystallized pulp. Although it is unknown how long the gas absorption sheets remain effective, the sheets should be changed regularly. It is considered that enclosing cresol red strips with the object can indicate when to change the sheets. After the storage methods were improved, passive dositubes for nitrogen dioxide were placed for 24 hours next to the handle of the fan (AC2065) to check the change in nitrogen dioxide emissions. The results showed that the average nitrogen dioxide concentration had fallen to 0ppb/hr. CN and CA items ranked A–C were not isolated. Instead, red seals were attached to the CN accession number cards and yellow seals to the CA accession number cards, with each storage shelf clearly labelled to show which objects were stored there. Cellulose nitrate has been called a ‘time bomb’ because there is no way of knowing when it might start degrading and emitting nitrogen

Figure 5.5.4 After improvement of storage conditions for CN objects: from left to right a feather fan (AC2065), a handbag (AC1422) and a feather fan (AC2067). © The Kyoto Costume Institute.

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dioxide. For this reason, it requires constant visual monitoring and non-destructive identification. Furthermore, in order to slow down the degradation process, the plan is to move the CN and CA objects in stages from the plywood storage shelves to steel storage shelves. Red paint on some C-ranked Vivienne Westwood dresses (AC10259, 2000SS) was sticky, with cracks suggesting the paint was peeling off. An FTIR analysis identified the red paint material was PVC. The dresses had been wrapped in tissue paper, but silicone release paper was inserted over the inner and outer surfaces to prevent the tissue paper from adhering to the dresses.

Conclusion The results of an FTIR analysis to detect malignant plastics in the KCI’s collection revealed that 89 of the 149 surveyed objects contained malignant plastics like CN, CA or PVC. A non-destructive cresol red test found three objects that emitted nitrogen dioxides from degrading CN, a malignant plastic that requires particular care, with an AD strip test identifying a further two. Morphological observations also indicated that these five objects were of concern. As a result, these objects were swiftly isolated, storage methods were improved and nearby objects of different materials were prevented from suffering secondary damage. Passive dositubes in air quality monitoring tests can be used to detect nitrogen dioxide emitted by seriously degraded CN objects. Scientific instrumental analyses or non-destructive identification tests should be selected according to the purpose of the study. The use of cresol red indicators and AD strips is a simple and cost-effective technique of monitoring the off-gassing of strong acids from CN and/or CA objects. They are easily obtainable and available at a reasonable cost. If smaller institutions cannot afford FTIR, using cresol red indicators and AD strips is an important first step in conducting preventive conservation strategies not only for the CN and CA objects themselves, but also for the rest of the collection. On the other hand, the FTIR gave us a good overview of the collection and showed which objects need to be monitored in future. However, although FTIR analyses can identify a lot of components, they may not be able to identify the entire array of plasticizers, antioxidants, surfactants, colorants or stabilizers, for example, while many resin manufacturers keep their recipes secret as intellectual property (Everts, 2016: 76). Furthermore, FTIR instrumentation is expensive and has a high running cost, and expertise is needed to interpret the results. As a result of this research at the KCI, inquiries about the durability of materials now form part of any discussions regarding the purchase of collections that use new materials. When purchasing these collections, requests are made via curators for information about these new materials or for specimens. If specimens are provided, meticulous destructive testing or degradation predictive testing can be carried out on any unknown materials.

Acknowledgements This study was supported in part by the Sasakawa Scientific Research Grant (2018) during the time the author worked at the KCI. The author would like to thank the KCI for permission to publish, and the restoration room for their generous support. The author is also grateful to Professor Masahiko Tsukada, Tokyo University of the Arts, for his support throughout this research.

References Everts, S. (2016). The art of saving relics. Scientific American, 314(4), 72–77. Hainschwang, T. & Leggio, L. (2006). The characterization of tortoise shell and its imitations. Gems and Gemology, 42(1), 36–52. Available from: https://www.gia.edu/doc/SP06A3.pdf

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Identification of plastics and improvement of their storage Hatchfield, P. (2004). Pollutants in the museum environment: practical strategies for problem solving in design, exhibition and storage. WAAC Newsletter, 26(2), 10–22. Available from: https://cool.culturalheritage.org/waac/wn/wn26/wn26-2/wn26-204.pdf IPI (Image Permanence Institute) (2016). User’s guide for AD strips. Available from: https://s3.cad.rit.edu/ ipi-assets/publications/adstrips_instructions.pdf Matsumura, M., Eastop, D. & Gill, K. (2002). Monitoring emissions from cellulose nitrate and cellulose acetate costume accessories: an evaluation of pH indicator dyes on paper, cotton tape and cotton threads. The Conservator, 26(1), 57–69. Paulocik, C. (2016). Modern materials in costume collections. In Modern Cultural Properties Section Center for Conservation Science and Restoration Techniques (Ed.), Postprints, Conservation and restoration of modern textiles (pp. 63–73). Tokyo: National Institutes for Cultural Heritage National Research Institute for Cultural Properties, Tokyo. Paulocik, C. & Williams, R.S. (2002). Modern materials in costume collections: a collaboration between scientist and conservator. In Strengthening the bond: science and textiles. Preprints, NATCC, 2002, Philadelphia (pp. 77–89). Philadelphia: NATCC. Price, B.A., Pretzel, B. & Lomax, S.Q. (Eds) (2009). Infrared and Raman users group spectral database. 2007 edition, volumes 1 & 2. Philadelphia: IRUG. Quye, A. & Williamson, C. (1999). Plastics collecting and conserving. Edinburgh: NMS Publishing. Sano, C., Ro, T., Yoshida, N. & Miura, S. (2010). Museum conservation studies: cultural properties and air contamination. Tokyo: Mimizukusha. [In Japanese, title translated by the author.] Shashoua, Y. (2008). Conservation of plastics: materials science, degradation and preservation. First edition. Amsterdam, Boston, London: Elsevier/Butterworth-Heinemann. Williams, R.S. (2002). Care of plastics: malignant plastics. WAAC Newsletter, 24(1). Available from: https:// cool.culturalheritage.org/waac/wn/wn24/wn24-1/wn24-102.html

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 AD strips supplier: Image Permanence Institute, Rochester Institute of Technology, 70 Lomb Memorial Drive, Rochester, NY 14623-5604, USA. https://www.imagepermanenceinstitute.org/ 2 Passive dositubes for time-weighted measurements, Nitrogen dioxide 9D: GASTEC Corporation, 8-8-6 Fukayanaka, Ayase-Shi, Kanagawa, 252–1195, Japan. https://www.gastec.co.jp/en/ 3 GasQ® sheet: Archival Conservation & Enclosures Co., Ltd., TSK Bulding, 4–8–13 Hongo, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo, 113–0033, Japan. https://www.hozon.co.jp/archival/product_other_1.html

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Applied science in conservation

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OVERVIEW Conservation science has expanded during the twenty-first century to include greater breadth and depth of study, analysis, and collaboration. Heritage science now ‘engages in the full spectrum of chemical, physical, mechanical, and optical sciences’ (Learner et al., 2020: 4). Many of the case studies in other chapters include scientific methodology, analysis, or collaboration as critical components of their success. The case studies in this chapter place science in the foreground of the project and showcase some of the many ways that textile conservators use and expand scientific knowledge. The addition of science (primarily chemistry) to traditional caretaking and restoration practices was one of the key factors in distinguishing conservation as a new discipline. Graduate training programmes support the interdisciplinary nature of our field and combine arts and sciences. While chemistry remains a core skill in training programmes, textile conservation has expanded to include engineering, physics, entomology, statistical analysis, and other scientific specialties.

Figure 6.0.1 A research associate uses DIC to monitor strain on a vertically mounted tapestry. The software produces maps that show areas of high and low strain. ©CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection and University of Glasgow.

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Most of the twentieth-century publications on scientific textile conservation focused on understanding technical art history (natural fibres and dyes), preventive conservation (environmental conditions that cause changes in textiles), and conservation materials (cleaning solutions, adhesives, and dyes). The majority of this work was chemistry based (The Conservation Unit, Museums and Galleries Commission, 1992; Tímár-Balázsy & Eastop, 1998). More recent projects address physics and engineering; they include the effects of stitching, mount stress/strain relationships, gravity, and friction (Nilsson, 2015; Wei, 2021). An article by Lennard et al. (2021) utilized digital image correlation (DIC) to evaluate display mounts for tapestries (Figure 6.0.1). These broad topics remain relevant in the twenty-first century; however, they have expanded with new questions and are supported with new analytical instruments. Technical art history now includes synthetic fibres and dyes, as well as the myriad plastics used in textiles. Preventive conservation has expanded to consider health and safety concerns for people and the global environment. The study of conservation materials continues to explore cleaning solutions with recent focus on the use of gel poultices for localized cleaning.

Technical art history Textile conservators have always been interested in the minutiae of textile objects. Early textile conservation queries involved the analysis of fibres, weave structures, and dyes. For many conservators in the US who work closely with curatorial departments, detailed examination of the objects for cataloguing purposes is a priority (Filippini & Schuchardt, 2003). Technical and analytical investigations can provide insight into past textile fabrication and repair practices (Albers, 2022), as well as determining authenticity (Holden et al., 2019). Not all types of material information will be equally impactful for all conservation treatments; however, all successful treatments depend on some level of technical analysis and understanding. Not only has the analysis of the materials become more sophisticated, it has also become increasingly sympathetic to textile objects. We are now able to glean significant information from non-destructive testing and minimal sampling methods as demonstrated in the case study by Haldane et al. Since the late 1980s, there has been a growing interest in understanding and caring for synthetic materials found in textile collections. Institutional surveys offer expanding information and research questions relating to synthetics (Ferreira, 1999; Cosgrove, 2006). Case studies have explored a variety of modern materials including early synthetic dyes (Barnett, 2007) and plastics in twentieth-century fashion (Tonkin, 2017). In addition, many conferences have focused on modern materials including the 2013 NATCC Conserving Modernity: The Articulation of Innovation and the 2023 interim meeting of the ICOM-CC Modern Materials and Contemporary Art and Textiles Working Groups. Technical analysis can also focus on non-textile components of composite textile objects. In the case study by Burgio et al. in Chapter 7 and the case study by Rossignoli and Triolo in this chapter, metal components of composite textile objects were analysed. In both cases, the analysis informed both deeper understanding of the objects as well as guiding treatment decisions. In the case study of Rossignoli and Triolo, multiple forms of non-destructive analysis were employed to provide detailed information for two projects, one of which was the investigation of an archaeological textile. Non-destructive technical

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analysis of archaeological textiles provides greater opportunities to understand these rare pieces while prioritizing their preservation. Instrumental analysis can often provide results with the highest level of specificity and confidence, and there is increased attention to ethical sampling practices (Quye & Strlič, 2019). However, other forms of analysis have proved effective at generating information needed for treatment proposals. Often, there are compelling reasons why instrumental analysis is unused: e.g., inappropriateness of destructive sampling, lack of access to instruments due to cost, unavailability of experts to run the instruments and interpret the results. These limitations can impact conservators working in institutions as well as those in private practice. One example of scientific methodology without complex instrumental analysis is the case study by Chamberlin and Garside, which combined gel-based pH measurement with microscopy to determine if a historical silk textile was weighted with tin. While the pH measurements and microscopy observations were not as definitive as X-ray fluorescence (XRF), they provided robust, compelling evidence that informed the treatment plan for a silk baby dress made in 1927.

Preventive conservation Understanding the degradation properties of the materials we work with allows us to assist in establishing better preventive parameters and enables us to propose appropriate treatments. Degradation can be from original usage, environmental factors, the effects of a conservation treatment, or a combination of these. Knowledge of material degradation from all sources is imperative to allow us to tailor the treatment to the object’s specific needs for long-term preservation (Luxford & Thickett, 2011; Park et al., 2018). In some studies, technical art history research has been directly related to understanding material and environmental deterioration. The European Commission’s Community Research and Development Information Service (CORDIS) project Monitoring of Damage in Historic Tapestries (2005) included analysis of fibres, dyes, and metal threads as well as tensile strength tests and accelerated ageing. Within the study of environmental factors that impact textiles, light exposure has long been of particular concern for conservators who understand the need to thoughtfully balance access and preservation (Figure 6.0.2). The Canadian Conservation Institute created an online Light Damage Calculator, which can predict colour changes for a limited number of natural dyes and fibres at different light intensity and exposure times (CCI, 2013). The case study by Peterson-Grace details evolving work at the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation to better understand and manage light exposure to textiles displayed in historic homes and museum galleries. As our field has expanded awareness of health hazards, there has been increased analysis of textiles to determine if they contain chemicals that pose risks to people accessing the collection. In the case study by Coppinger, XRF analysis was used to identify harmful materials relating to manufacturing and taxidermy practices. This information was then used to craft updated storage and handling protocols for the collection. In addition to manufacturing, some chemical risks relate to past treatments, e.g., pesticide treatments of textiles. This underscores the importance of understanding the many long-term impacts of our treatment choices.

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Figure 6.0.2 A graduate student uses a colourimeter to measure specific colours on embroidery threads. The same locations are measured before and after display to determine any colour differences and provide informed guidance for future displays. © Textile Conservation Foundation/University of Glasgow.

Analysis of conservation materials and techniques As museums and conservators are mostly focused on exhibition and collection projects, there are relatively fewer opportunities for research and analysis of conservation materials and techniques (Carlson, 2017; Paulocik & Tse, 2019). However, this type of research is ideally suited to students in graduate training programmes, and many recent publications on conservation materials and techniques are co-authored by students working in collaboration with advisors. Conservators continue to explore and refine adhesive supports and cleaning systems, often working in collaboration with scientists. The case studies by Hillyer; and Osmond and Smith in Chapter 4 are two examples in the evolution of adhesive treatments. The case study by Flecker et al. in Chapter 1 includes information about research into wet-cleaning methods, as does the case study by Burgio et al. in Chapter 7. These papers also demonstrate the conservators’ thought processes, research, and the professional experiences that they bring to their treatments. Equally important is their ability to articulate their conservation concerns to inform collaborations with scientist colleagues. Kataoka’s case study is an example of a successful conservator–scientist collaboration which informed treatment decisions relating to microenvironments within pressure mounts.

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Summary These case studies illustrate a range of issues and expertise; they demonstrate the type of teamwork required for effective problem solving in both interventive and preventive conservation. As conservation practice shifts from preventing change to managing change, conservation science has shifted to be both more refined and less prescriptive. Our ability to achieve access and preservation goals has increased with our scientific understanding of material, environmental, and health information. Conservation science includes all the challenges of any scientific study – especially the need to be extremely self-aware as we design and conduct experiments and interpret the results. In addition, scientific conservation research must accommodate a wide range of variables and a narrow tolerance for sampling. This makes the balance between experimental prototypes and collection textiles an ongoing challenge. At the same time, as Finch stated, ‘No scientific test on its own can recognise whether an object merits keeping and further study’ (2000: 7). Scientific analysis has the potential to provide significant positive impact for textile care; however, we must recognize that we can only make effective use of scientific information when it is in service to the ethical goals discussed in chapters 2 and 3.

References Albers, M. (2022). Afzetters at work: ‘touching up’ in the Diana and Alexander tapestries by François Spiering and Karel Van Mander II. The Rijksmuseum Bulletin, 70(2), 146–77. Available from: DOI: 10.52476/trb.12232 Barnett, J.C. (2007). Synthetic organic dyes, 1856–1901: an introductory literature review of their use and related issues in textile conservation. Studies in Conservation, 52(sup1), 67–77. Available from: DOI: 10.1179/sic.2007.52.Supplement-1.67 Carlson, J. (2017). A sticky situation: a different method for removing adhesive from an early 17thcentury carpet. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2017, Copenhagen. Paris: ICOM. CCI (Canadian Conservation Institute) (2013). Light damage calculator. Available from: https://app. pch.gc.ca/application/cdl-ldc/description-about.app?lang=en CORDIS (Community Research and Development Information Service) (2005). Monitoring of damage in historic tapestries. Available from: https://cordis.europa.eu/project/id/EVK4-CT-2001-00048 Cosgrove, B. (2006). Modern materials in fashion collections: a conservation issue for the National Gallery of Victoria. Australian Institute for the Conservation of Cultural Materials. Available from: https://aiccm.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Cosgrove_TSIG2006-1.pdf Ferreira, L.M. (1999). Manufactured-fiber conservation: a cause for concern? In C. Myers Breeze (Ed.), Postprints, AIC TSG, 2001, St. Louis MO, Vol. 9 (pp. 11–18). Washington DC: AIC. Filippini, L. & Schuchardt, E. (2003). The history of fiber sampling at the Art Institute of Chicago’s Department of Textiles. In Development of a web-accessible reference library of deteriorated fibers using digital imaging and image analysis. Proceedings of a Conference, 2003, National Park Service, US Department of the Interior (pp. 37–43). Harpers Ferry WV: US National Park Service. Finch, K. (2000). Textiles as documents of history and those who care for them. In M.M. Brooks (Ed.), Textiles revealed. Object lessons in historic textile and costume research (pp. 7–16). London: Archetype. Holden, A., Smith, G., Chen, V.J. & Vitha, M.F. (2019). Everything old is new again: science unravels a fake Moroccan embroidery. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned. Textile conservation – then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau Canada (pp. 253– 267). NATCC. Learner, T., Bertrand, L. & Schmidt Patterson, C. (2020). Advancing science in conservation. Conservation Perspectives: The GCI Newsletter, Spring, 4–9. GCI. Available from: https://www.getty.edu/ conservation/publications_resources/newsletters/pdf/v35n1.pdf

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Lennard, F., Costantini, R. & Harrison, P. (2021). Understanding the role of friction and adhesion in the display of tapestries on slanted supports. Studies in Conservation, 66(1), 32–43. Luxford, N. & Thickett, D. (2011). Designing accelerated ageing experiments to study silk deterioration in historic houses. Journal of the Institute of Conservation, 34(1), 115–127. Nilsson, J. (2015). Evaluation of stitched support methods for the remedial conservation of historical silk costumes. e-conservation Journal, 3. Park, H.J., Hwang, M. & Chung, Y.J. (2018). An assessment of the deterioration of fabricated metal thread with light, and temperature and humidity factors: a focused study of Asian textile collections at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Journal of Conservation Science, 34(4), 245–257. Paulocik, C., Tse, S. & Sutcliffe, H. (2019). Save the skirt: a collaboration between conservators and conservation scientists. In H. Sutcliffe & J. Thompson (Eds), Lessons learned. Textile conservation – then and now. Preprints, 12th NATCC, 2019, Ottawa-Gatineau Canada (pp. 301–321). NATCC. Quye, A. & Strlič, M. (2019). Ethical sampling guidance. Icon Heritage Science Group. Available from: https://collectionstrust.org.uk/resource/ethical-sampling-guidance/ The Conservation Unit Museums and Galleries Commission (1992). The Science for Conservators series, volumes 1–3. London & New York: Routledge. Tímár-Balázsy, Á. & Eastop, D. (1998). Chemical principles of textile conservation. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Tonkin, L. (2017). Visionary design practices: preserving plastics and designers’ intent in collections of modern and contemporary fashion. Journal of the Institute of Conservation, 40(2), 152–167. Wei, W. (2021). Art conservation: mechanical properties and testing of materials. Singapore: Jenny Stanford Publishing.

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6.1 INTEGRATED MULTISPECTRAL IMAGING, ANALYSIS AND TREATMENT OF AN EGYPTIAN TUNIC* Elizabeth-Anne Haldane, Sara Pearce (née Gillies), Sonia O’Connor, Cathy Batt, Ben Stern

Introduction The tunic (Figure 6.1.1; museum number 291–1891) discussed in this case study is from the collections of the Victoria and Albert Museum (V&A), London. It is of red wool with appliquéd tapestry-woven decorations and would have belonged to a man. This rare survival is thought to have come from an Egyptian burial ground and has been dated by stylistic comparison with other textiles of known provenance to the seventh to eighth century, placing it in the period of Arab rule in Egypt (AD 641–969). The tunic was investigated and conserved in preparation for display in the Medieval and Renaissance Galleries at the V&A, which opened in 2009. Examination of the tunic prior to treatment indicated that an unusual pattern of staining found on the object was worthy of further in-depth investigation. To carry out a comprehensive programme of scientific analysis on the tunic, the V&A formed a collaborative partnership with the University of Bradford. A case study of the tunic was the focus of an MSc dissertation investigating the potential of several instrumental techniques to expand our understanding of an object’s biography, whilst answering specific research questions (Gillies, 2008). This paper focuses on the project methodology, the range and usefulness of the analytical techniques applied and the practicalities of carrying out the work in a museum context. The detailed results of the research project and the conservation treatment are discussed elsewhere (Haldane et al., 2009).

The tunic – historical context and condition Although Coptic textiles have been extensively studied from a stylistic perspective, little is known about burial practices at this time or their impact on the survival and condition of textile remains. A brief survey of Coptic burials demonstrates a variety of possible traditions around the dressing

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Figure 6.1.1 Tunic front (291–1891) before treatment. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Photography Ken Jackson © V&A.

and coffining of the dead (Dalton, 1961: 577; Castel, 1979; Prominska, 1986; Rutschowscaya, 1990: 14; Dunand & Lichtenberg, 2006: 124ff). This tunic is unusual for its very large size and construction from three separate pieces of cloth. It is also of particular interest not only for its beautiful design and rich colouring, but because it includes the Coptic ankh, Greek symbols and patterning that resembles Arabic script woven into the tapestry ornaments. Throughout the analytical phase of the project, the tunic was approached as a Coptic object; however, as ‘Coptic’ generally refers to Christian imagery and the motifs are not exclusively Coptic in origin, it is now being referred to as ‘Egyptian’. During this period the weavers were still predominantly Christian although their work was often for Muslim rulers (Pritchard, 2006: 37). It is possible that this tunic is the result of such an arrangement, explaining the presence of the different symbols woven into the design. The V&A purchased the tunic from a dealer in the late nineteenth century; however, there are no records of its initial recovery in Egypt nor of its subsequent treatment by the dealer or the museum. Fortunately, it was photographed for a 1922 V&A publication (Kendrick, 1922). The front view, reprinted from the negatives still held by the museum, provided an invaluable record of the tunic’s construction and condition at that time and also allowed changes to the tunic to be dated to pre- or post-1922. The tunic was structurally weak, with many losses. Slits up the side seams and through the middle of the tunic front suggested it was either cut to place on the body or for removal. It was heavily stained, presumably from burial, particularly on the back where the staining is roughly in the shape of a body. On the inner back surface the dark ‘body’ stain is inter-cut in places by a series of narrow, even, horizontal stripes. These striations form an unusual and unidentified staining pattern. There are examples of tunics with a lattice pattern of staining caused by tight bandages wrapped around the body to keep textiles in place; however, the stripes on the V&A tunic seemed most likely to have been caused by something below the body and the tunic, perhaps relating to the burial method. 422

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The substantial fading on the tunic front suggests that it has been on display. Visual examination of original stitching holes and interruptions to staining patterns indicated that the construction of the tunic had been altered, principally by letting the large waist tuck out to lengthen it. This is apparent on the 1922 photograph, suggesting that it had been done by the dealer prior to sale. It also shows that the condition of the tunic had deteriorated since then, and by 2007 the front had been repaired with a variety of patches including many pieces of original tunic fabric.

Project team It was the desire to understand the nature and significance of the staining of the tunic that prompted textile conservation staff at the V&A to seek the advice of external specialists. Marion Kite, then Head of Furniture, Textiles and Fashion Conservation, and Elizabeth-Anne Haldane contacted Dr Sonia O’Connor, who had worked on the development of radiography as an investigative technique for textiles (O’Connor & Brooks, 2007), about the possibility of using this and other techniques for the tunic. Dr O’Connor suggested that a multispectral approach might be productive and that the study would make an excellent project for a University of Bradford student undertaking an MSc in Scientific Methods in Archaeology. As the preparation of the Medieval and Renaissance Galleries had a long lead time, it was possible to complete the research project, which took approximately four months, before conservation started in late 2008. The project was undertaken by Sara Gillies, and her lead supervisor was Dr Cathy Batt. O’Connor helped develop the protocols for multispectral imaging, and Dr Ben Stern oversaw the chemical analysis. At the V&A, Gillies worked closely with Haldane on the practicalities of the proposed analysis and to ensure that key conservation and research questions were addressed. This liaison was crucial to the success of the project.

Research project design The project brief was written by Haldane and curator Helen Persson, with the aim of expanding the object’s biography from burial to conservation. They identified four key topics of enquiry: 1. the burial arrangements, 2. the identification of the stain(s), 3. the chronology of the alterations, and 4. the provenance of the tunic. From this, Gillies produced a feasibility study followed by a detailed research proposal. To address the first three topics, the investigation was designed around the mapping and analysis of the staining using non-destructive to minimally destructive techniques. It was originally proposed to use soil analysis to address the question of provenance, but this did not prove feasible due to a lack of reference samples. However, isotopic analysis of the fibres was proposed as a possible alternative. Due to the fragility and large size of the tunic (2090mm high × 2620mm wide, opened to full extent), it could not be moved from the V&A. This meant that the project had to be designed around the use of portable equipment or facilities already available at the V&A, although the removal of small samples for chemical analysis was permitted. Other considerations included the need to minimize object handling, the time and funding constraints of an MSc project and the availability of V&A resources. The mapping of the stains was undertaken at the V&A using X-radiography and visible light, infrared and ultraviolet photography. The results of these studies also informed the sampling strategy for the Raman spectroscopy, gas chromatography-mass spectrometry (GC-MS), scanning electron microscopy (SEM) and stable light isotope analysis undertaken at the Archaeological Sciences laboratories. 423

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Raman spectroscopy In principle, Raman spectroscopy is seen as non-destructive, involving the laser excitation of chemical bonds within a material, to produce a spectrum which ideally would be unique to that material (Long, 2002: 39ff). It was proposed to use Raman spectroscopy in two ways: firstly, using portable equipment to attempt to refine the sampling strategy by distinguishing between the staining compounds, and secondly, to provide compositional information to help select the most appropriate techniques for further analysis (Smith & Clark, 2001: 96). To test the feasibility of the technique several visually distinct stained fibre fragments, of approximately 10mm in length, were removed for analysis by laboratory equipment, which is more sensitive than the portable instrument. Unfortunately, the spectra produced were indistinguishable from each other probably due to the laser light causing the degraded fibres to fluoresce, a phenomenon noted particularly with woollen textiles (Edwards & Wyeth, 2005). The poor results suggested that it was unlikely to be a useful technique in identifying or characterizing areas of interest on the tunic.

Multispectral imaging A more successful, non-destructive approach to distinguishing the different stains was multispectral imaging. Different materials absorb or reflect electromagnetic radiation to different extents depending on the wavelength of the radiation. Some materials exposed to particular wavelengths will absorb the radiation and then emit it at a different wavelength. If this emission is within the visible part of the electromagnetic spectrum, it is termed fluorescence. These techniques are used in the study of paintings but are rarely integrated into the study of textiles. The patterns of the different stains were recorded using X-radiography, and photographically using visible light, ultraviolet (UV) fluorescence and infrared (IR) reflectance techniques. Ideally, all the techniques needed to run sequentially without handling and distortion of the textile so that resulting images could be superimposed. As the facilities for each technique were in different areas of the museum, this was impossible; however, the information from these images was manually integrated to form a comprehensive staining map (Figure 6.1.2).

Infrared photography At the time of the project, the V&A did not have facilities for large-scale infrared (IR) photography. A Hamamatsu C2400 video camera with N2606 IR vidicon tube was available from Paintings Conservation but required the tunic to be supported in a nearly vertical position (Figure 6.1.3). In addition, the camera could only take A5 size images, preventing the taking of a complete IR survey; however, the pilot test on the tunic back revealed that different stains exhibited different absorbance/reflectance properties. For example, under IR the horizontal striations were not visible, but stains that on visual examination were associated with heavier deposits were more IR absorbent and showed up as dark indentations.

Ultraviolet photography UV fluorescence has been used to distinguish between visually similar staining (Carter, 1984: 12). With the tunic, UV radiation stimulated some of the stains to fluoresce, and the colour and intensity of these emissions of light were captured using a digital camera modified with filters. As with the IR imaging, the un-conserved tunic had to be supported on a vertically angled board to

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Figure 6.1.2 Sketch map of tunic showing staining: (red) staining – visible light; (green) ‘water’ stain 1 – X-ray; (purple) ‘water’ stain 2 – UV absorbent; (blue) body/‘striation’ stain – UV fluorescent. Front of tunic at top of image, proper left of tunic to right of image. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Diagram by Sara Gillies.

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Figure 6.1.3 Preparation for examination under IR: the patched inner tunic front is folded up to expose the stained back. From left: Sara Gillies, Dr Sonia O’Connor. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Photography Elizabeth-Anne Haldane © V&A.

accommodate a manageable camera angle; this meant that it was impractical to image all areas. The inner side of the tunic back was targeted as it was most heavily stained, particularly with the striped staining pattern. Stains, such as the striations, which were not visible under IR, fluoresced under UV indicating the presence of different materials.

X-radiography For the X-radiography it was possible to support the tunic horizontally and to move the X-ray tube, suspended from an overhead gantry, over all areas of the garment (Figure 6.1.4). This allowed a full radiographic survey to be made. The high contrast, low energy radiographs record variations in the thickness, density and the materials of the tunic, as these factors affected the amount of Xrays that passed through it during each exposure. The V&A has a FUJI Dynamix Series 4 computed radiography (CR) system that employs a re-usable image plate and digital capture, making the survey cheaper and quicker to produce than traditional film imaging. Thirty-one radiographs were taken to cover the whole tunic; the only problem was that although care was taken to overlap successive images, two small areas were missed. This could have been avoided if a grid had been laid on the supporting board to locate the plate. Some stains showed up on the radiographs; in particular, a tide line was observed that 426

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Figure 6.1.4 X-radiography of the tunic at the V&A. From left: Elizabeth-Anne Haldane, Paul Robbins, Dr Sonia O’Connor, Sara Gillies. © Victoria and Albert Museum, London. Photography by V&A Science Section © V&A.

corresponded with a faint light coloured ‘bloom’ on the surface of the textile. It was also possible to see through the extensive patches on the front face of the tunic to the damage beneath and to record details in the weaving and features such as stitching and lines of empty stitch holes. The CR system also has the facility to make accurate measurements, making this a very useful tool for documentation.

Minimally destructive analysis All the laboratory analysis aimed to be minimally destructive, and only single threads were taken from previously damaged areas. This meant that it was not possible to sample in the middle of stained areas, which increased the possibility of missing the deposits of interest. Sampling occurred in two phases. Firstly, to test the proposed instrumental techniques, three threads, of approximately 10mm length, were removed after visual examination and photographic recording. The second set of samples was removed after the multispectral imaging had enabled distinct staining groups to be identified. These targeted samples were larger. Five samples were taken from three stains, each approximately 20mm long. In the laboratory, each sample was subdivided. One half was mounted on an aluminium stub, coated with carbon and examined using SEM to study the fibre morphology and to identify inorganic deposits on their surfaces. The other half of the sample was solvent 427

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treated to extract volatile components of interest and analysed by GC-MS. This analysis focused on the organic residues in an attempt to differentiate between the stains and to look for traces of body decomposition products or embalming products. The threads were not destroyed, and those treated for GC-MS were retained for further isotopic analysis.

Isotopic analysis Provenance is a key part of an object’s biography. In the case of the tunic, it was hoped to address this to some extent through isotopic analysis. Initial studies on isotope ratios in wool fibres suggest that provenancing is feasible (Hedges et al., 2005; Nosch et al., 2007; Frei et al., 2009). These ratios result from local environmental conditions and the underlying geology, and are acquired through the sheep’s diet. Theoretically, these ratios vary between locations (as Hedges et al. [2005] demonstrated in Turkey), potentially providing a ‘signature’ for the place of origin of the animal. Unfortunately, it was beyond the scope of this student dissertation project and not pursued further.

Integration of results With the exception of Raman spectroscopy, each imaging and analytical technique applied to the tunic provided a new piece of information which, taken together, furthered our understanding of the tunic’s biography. For instance, the stain along the lower edge of the tunic was more radioopaque than the others and had a fairly well-defined upper edge that resembled a water tide line. SEM imaging of a fibre from this area showed extensive deposits of crystalline particles, which elemental analysis identified as sodium chloride crystals. This particulate contamination explains the increased absorption of the X-rays. The pattern of the stain and the presence of salt could indicate the tunic became wet with salty water through everyday wear, or, as salt has been found as a deliberate deposit in Coptic burials, it is possible that the stain developed due to a damp burial or excavation environment. Initial examination under UV radiation revealed the same tide line, but a later UV photographic survey of the back revealed a second tide line within this stain. Unfortunately, in order to fit in with project deadlines and instrument availability, sampling occurred before the fluorescence visible on the photographs was mapped out and the second tide line was spotted. Consequently, no sample was taken of the second stain. This underlines the importance of sequential and complete analysis and highlights the value of detailed mapping.

Dye analysis Dye analysis was beyond the scope of the original research project, but funding was found to send samples to the Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage in Brussels (KIK-IRPA). The identification of dyestuffs has proved useful in dating Egyptian textiles. The colour red was primarily produced using madder, but cochineal, imported from Armenia, was also used. Following the Arab invasion of Egypt in AD 641, ties with Armenia were cut and cochineal was replaced with lac imported from India (Rutschowscaya, 1990: 28). Samples of red yarn from the tunic body and the appliquéd decoration were analysed with high performance liquid chromatography–diode array detector (after acidic methanol extraction); both were found to contain a combination of lac and madder (Vanden Berghe, 2009). These results indicate both components are from the Arab period, consistent with the stylistic dating. 428

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Treatment Although the V&A, which is the UK’s national museum of design and decorative arts, has archaeological objects within its collections, these have been primarily acquired from a design and technology perspective to inform, inspire and promote the practice of design. The conservation of the tunic had to reconcile the demands of this design-focused display with preservation and continued access to archaeological evidence. The aim was to limit intervention while recognizing that the object required structural support to be returned to its three-dimensional form as a recognizable garment. Incorporating scientific analysis into the project plan from the outset helped expand our understanding of the tunic’s form, function, condition and history of use, and therefore informed the conservation decision-making process. For example, identification of several clearly defined tide lines on the tunic supported the opinion of the conservator that the tunic had not been wet cleaned. When the patches on the reverse of the tunic front were removed, further staining and particulate soiling were found. Small samples of sediment were removed but the majority was left, and no further cleaning of the tunic was undertaken allowing for the possibility of future study. For display the tunic was to be folded over a custom-made former in a recessed wall case; therefore, the back would not be visible. This allowed a compromise to be reached whereby the tunic back was given minimal treatment, by sandwiching it between two layers of fine nylon net stitched together around the edges of losses with extra support provided from the display mount. The front ‘display-side’ was given a more interventive stitched support (Haldane et al., 2009). Objects such as this have the ability to capture the imagination and connect with the public. The Education Department featured the story of the tunic and research project on the V&A website and commissioned replica tunics for gallery interpretation. Although the tunic is too fragile to be displayed in a realistic fashion on a mannequin, these replicas provide visitors with an insight into how the garment would have been worn in life.

Conclusion In designing a programme of analysis for a rare textile object, non-destructive and minimally destructive techniques are essential. Appropriate sequencing and the use of a range of complementary techniques all help to build up the body of evidence. The increasing sensitivity and thus decreasing sample sizes required for modern analytical techniques coupled with multispectral imaging are allowing the field of textile studies to expand, providing a new window on textile condition and textile interpretation. The project brief outlined four key areas of enquiry: the burial arrangements, the identification of the stain(s), chronology of the alterations and the provenance of the tunic. The MSc research project primarily addressed the identification of the stains and the formation of the unusual patterning and how they might relate to the burial method. The results confirmed that the patterned staining had been caused by a decomposing body in close contact with a ridged object, perhaps a woven reed matt, during burial. Detailed study of the object and comparison with photographic archives have placed the majority of the alterations within a known timeframe, but we can still only speculate as to whether the tunic was cut for burial or removal. Information on the tunic’s provenance was gained through dye analysis, and the conservation treatment was designed to allow access to archaeological features of interest for future study. Following this project, the tunic was selected for radiocarbon dating as part of the European Commission on Roman Clothing Dress-ID Project. A sample of the red wool from the tunic body was analysed as part of a new 429

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line of research to radiocarbon-date textiles dyed with lac. Radiocarbon analyses were carried out at KIK-IRPA, Brussels. The results showed a 95.4% probability that the tunic dates to between 670–870 CE, consistent with the stylistic dating (Haldane & Persson, 2019). This collaborative research has undoubtedly expanded our understanding of the tunic’s history and also confirmed judgements based on visual examination of the object and curatorial and conservation expertise. From the viewpoint of the V&A and the University of Bradford, this was a very successful collaboration. For the museum, it enabled comprehensive research to be undertaken that would not otherwise have been possible due to a lack of research time, facilities and expertise in archaeological sciences. From the university’s and student’s perspectives, the project provided an opportunity to work on a unique and interesting archaeological object with complex methodological and interpretive problems, and to experience the realities of conducting research in a museum setting.

Acknowledgements We thank V&A colleagues: Helen Persson, Marion Kite, Graham Martin, Ken Jackson, Paul Robbins, Rachel Turnbull, Nicola Costaras, and thank Sandra Smith for permission to publish. Thanks also to Monique Pullen, Anna Harrison at the British Museum; Frances Pritchard, Ann French at The Whitworth Art Gallery. The conservation of the tunic was supported by the Mercers’ Company. Sara Gillies received funding from the University of Bradford and the Pasold Research Fund to assist with the cost of the analytical work. Thank you to Antoine De Moor and the European Commission on Roman Clothing Dress-ID Project, which paid for the radiocarbon dating.

References Carter, J.M. (1984). Iron stains on textiles: a study to determine their nature and to evaluate current treatments. In D. de Froment (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 1984, Copenhagen (pp. 11–14). Paris: ICOM. Castel, G. (1979). Étude d’une momie copte [Study of a Coptic mummy]. In Hommages à la mémoire de Serge Sauneron, Vol. 2. Bibliothèque d’Étude 82 (pp. 121–143). Cairo: Institut Français. Dalton, O.M. (1961). Byzantine art and archaeology. New York: Dover Publications. Dunand, F. & Lichtenberg, R. (2006). Mummies and death in Egypt. Ithaca NY: Cornell University Press. Edwards, H.G.M. & Wyeth, P. (2005). Case study: ancient textile fibres. In H.G.M. Edwards & P. Wyeth (Eds), Raman spectroscopy in archaeology and art history (pp. 304–324). Cambridge, UK: The Royal Society of Chemistry. Frei, K., Frey, R., Gleba, M., Mannering, U. & Lyngstrom, H. (2009). Provenance of ancient textiles – a pilot study evaluating the Sr isotope system in wool. Archaeometry, 51(2), 1–25. Gillies, S. (2008). Scientific analysis of the condition and staining on a 7th–8th century Coptic tunic. Unpublished MSc dissertation, University of Bradford. Haldane, E.-A., Gillies, S., O’Connor, S., Batt, C. & Stern, B. (2009). What lies beneath: the biography of an Egyptian tunic. In B. Szuhay (compiled), Conservation of three-dimensional textiles. Preprints, NATCC, 2009, Québec City (pp. 239–258). NATCC. Haldane, E.-A. & Persson, H. (2019). The red woollen tunic from Egypt in the Victoria and Albert Museum. In A. De Moor, C. Fluck & P. Linscheid (Eds), Egypt as a textile hub; textile interrelationships in the 1st millennium AD. Proceedings of the 10th conference of the research group Textiles of the Nile Valley, Antwerp, October 2017 (pp. 246–257). Tielt, Belgium: Lanoo Publishers. Hedges, R.E.M., Thompson, J.M.A. & Hull, B.D. (2005). Stable isotope variation in wool as a means to establish Turkish carpet provenance. Rapid Communications in Mass Spectrometry, 19, 3187–3191. Kendrick A.F. (1922). Volume III – Coptic period. In Catalogue of textiles from burying-grounds in Egypt (p. 7, plate IV, catalogue 620). London: HMSO. Long, D.A. (2002). The Raman effect: a unified treatment of the theory of Raman scattering by molecules. Chichester: John Wiley.

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Imaging, analysis and treatment of an Egyptian tunic Nosch, M., von Carnap-Bornheim, C., Grupe, G., Mekota, A. & Schweissing, M.M. (2007). Stable strontium isotopic ratios from archaeological organic remains from the Thorsberg peat bog. Rapid Communications in Mass Spectrometry, 21, 1541–1545. O’Connor, S. & Brooks, M.M. (2007). X-radiography of textiles, dress and related objects. Oxford: Elsevier. Pritchard, F. (2006). Clothing culture: dress in Egypt in the first millennium AD. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Prominska, E. (1986). Ancient Egyptian traditions of artificial mummification in the Christian period in Egypt. In A.R. David (Ed.), Science in Egyptology, proceedings (pp. 113–121). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Rutschowscaya, M. (1990). Coptic fabrics. Paris: Éditions Adam Biro. Smith, G.D. & Clark, R.J.H. (2001). Raman microscopy in art history and conservation science. Reviews in Conservation, 2, 92–106. Vanden Berghe, I. (2009). Dye analysis of tunic 291–1891. Unpublished technical study, Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage (KIK-IRPA), Brussels.

Note * Published in 2010, revised in 2024.

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6.2 A SUCCESSFUL INTERTWINING. NON-DESTRUCTIVE ANALYSIS INFORMING CONSERVATION PROJECTS AT THE TEXTILE DEPARTMENT OF THE OPIFICIO DELLE PIETRE DURE* Guia Rossignoli, Licia Triolo This contribution addresses how conservation requirements have evolved over the last 20 years at the Textile Laboratory of the Opificio delle Pietre Dure (OPD) in Florence. It uses examples to illustrate the need for in-depth diagnosis of materials, composition and the three-dimensional structures of artefacts. The Institute traces its origins on one side to the manufactory of semi-precious stone commissions founded in 1588 under Ferdinando I of the de’ Medici family (Figure 6.2.1), and on the other side to the workshops of the Soprintendenza alle Belle Arti, directed by Florentine art historian Ugo Procacci from 1932 and devoted to the conservation of paintings and frescoes. In 1975 the two workshops merged to form the OPD, a specialist institute in the conservation of all materials. This impressive upgrade was possible thanks to the traditional knowledge of local craftsmen and conservators, combined with that of the international conservators who converged on Florence to help after the terrifying 1966 flood. Procacci was one of the first art historians to realize the importance of a public institute devoted to conservation with a scientific approach to all kinds of artefacts, and the staff included organic and inorganic chemists and physicists. In the 1930s, for example, the use of diagnostic investigations including radiography was introduced as a fundamental aid to conservation (Ciatti, 2015). As a pioneer in the use of non-invasive surveys for cognitive purposes and to direct treatments, the Institute became increasingly expert and skilful in their use. For instance, the OPD developed expertise enabling the development of large X-ray plates, specifically used for single-shot analysis of large works such as painted medieval panels, to minimize degradation to the artworks and deformation of the resulting image. In this environment, the Textile Department of the Opificio (Figure 6.2.2) was created in 1982 when it was detached from the Tapestry Department to which restorer Susanna Conti belonged, and which had seen her trained in the tradition of the great private Florentine workshop of Marietta and Alfredo Clignon. Since the 1980s, the restorer has been developing a workshop devoted DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-51432

Figure 6.2.1 The nineteenth-century workshops where articles inlaid with semi-precious stone were made. © Opificio Archive, Ministry of Culture.

Figure 6.2.2 The Textile Department at Opificio delle Pietre Dure, Florence. © Opificio Archive, Ministry of Culture. Image by Giuseppe Zicarelli, OPD.

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uniquely to textiles, costume, ethnographic and multi-material objects, and later to leather. The department thus gets the recognition it deserves and the space, as well as the equipment, on the first floor of the Fortezza da Basso, one of the three locations of the Institute where the Scientific and Photographic departments are also located. Today the department comprises Riccardo Gennaioli, the art historian director, and the textile conservators Giacinto Cambini, Guia Rossignoli and Licia Triolo. Diagnosis is preliminary to any operation in the laboratory. The proximity to the Scientific Department and the development of technology for the knowledge of materials and products to be used guarantees the preparation of in-depth documentation for each case submitted to the attention of restorers, art historians or archaeologists. The possibility of access to non-invasive analyses and the constant search for new diagnostic opportunities are a fundamental part of the process of understanding the work and especially for planning and realizing a respectful conservation treatment. This contribution discusses two cases, a seventeenth-century Japanese manchira and a ‘coin purse’ from the Vesuvian area, where diagnostics enabled intervention that avoided dismantling parts of the objects, favouring the conservation of original forms, structures and yarns (Conti & Aldrovandi, 2007).

A manchira from Stibbert Museum The conservation of this samurai armour element was carried out at the OPD during dissertation work conducted between 2008 and 2009 (Triolo, 2009). It had three guidelines: the peculiarities of the piece and the importance of theoretical research and scientific analysis. Before any conservation treatment, it is necessary to interrogate the work and only then to use the acquired knowledge to intervene. This was all the more valid in this case because of the distance in time and space from the cultural environment of the manchira, requiring greater attention to its aesthetic values, materials and techniques (Triolo, 2019).

The object The manchira comes from the Japanese section of the Stibbert Museum in Florence (Boccia et al., 1997). Its purchase by Frederick Stibbert was part of the Japonisme trend in Europe at the end of the nineteenth century, after Japan reopened trade routes with the west (Figure 6.2.3, left). Manchira is an uncommon term in Japan, probably dating from the first encounter with Europeans in the sixteenth century and probably an extension of the term manteru, to indicate a protective element of the upper torso (Sasama, 1999: 258). As in the name, the influence of westerners (nanban) can be seen in the form as well as in the techniques, making it possible to date the artefact to the first half of the seventeenth century, when trade with Europeans was still active. It is not immediately recognizable as part of samurai armour but appears to be an elegant garment, with a high collar and stiff shoulders. The back has a slit at the bottom centre, probably for a sword. The dragon motif fabric is surrounded by a leather border with blue, stylized irises, a symbolic flower for the samurai. A radiograph1 of the manchira and the weight of the artefact, a hefty 2.3kg despite its small size,2 revealed that it is not only a costume but a battle and parade armour (Bottomley, 1988), built around a complex inner armour of metal mesh and hexagons of boiled and lacquered leather (Conti & Aldrovandi, 2007). Dye analysis with fibre optics reflectance spectroscopy3 and high performance liquid chromatography recognized the presence of the exclusive yellow dye extracted from the plant Sophora Japonica (Degano et al., 2013). These findings, matched 434

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Figure 6.2.3 Left, the front of the manchira before conservation treatment; right, the front after conservation. © Opificio Archive, Ministry of Culture, courtesy of the Stibbert Museum, Florence. Image by Giuseppe Zicarelli, OPD.

with historical research, demonstrated that this is a high-quality artefact, probably produced for a member of the families closest to the Japanese imperial dynasty, around 1638. At the time of the treatment, the manchira was highly deformed. The blue fabric was severely degraded on the front at the shoulder, with a nearly total loss of warps and the presence of free wefts; this degradation gave a glimpse of the blue-coloured lining. There was also much dust residue deposited on the neck and shoulder decorations, and the blue fabric had many halos with light-coloured deposits and an ‘earthy’ appearance both on the front under the armholes and on the back at shoulder level.

The diagnostic and conservation treatment In addition to the art historical research and the correct description of the object, non-invasive investigations were also crucial in guiding the intervention: the radiograph revealed the existence of the metal framework and the layering of fabrics that form the object, while multispectral investigations allowed us to confirm that the seam stitching of the entire piece was probably original (Conti et al., 2008). Based on this information, it was decided not to disassemble the seams at any point and to selectively intervene on the degraded parts that affected the blue damask (Conti et al., 2010). This decision led to the design of a cleaning treatment for only the outer layers, consisting of four stages: first, vacuum cleaning of the interior and the exterior by macro-aspiration; the second stage repeated the vacuum cleaning using micro-suction; and the third step was wet cleaning the shoulders and the neck. The last phase, the most delicate, concerned the wet cleaning of the blue fabric with dragon motifs: demineralized water was used with a mini suction table4 working selectively on the stains and their halos. After a check with photographic and non-invasive multispectral analysis that confirmed the success of this first part of the treatment, the consolidation of the manchira focused on the gaps and the substantial missing warps in the front at the height of the armholes. A silk voile satin – the 435

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same weave as the background fabric – was chosen as a support and was appropriately dyed in the Textile Laboratory, then hand-printed with a stylized dragon motif.5 The prepared fabric was inserted under the areas of deterioration between the loose weft threads, and it was stitched along the leather border. The consolidation straightened the wefts,6 then the loose weft threads were treated by joining the yarns with a polyester thread. This ‘thread-by-thread’ repair method was pioneered to consolidate paintings on canvas and was used here for the first time in a textile conservation treatment. During the restoration work, a custom-made Plexiglass® (acrylic) support was designed to display the manchira.7 The structure made it possible to secure the object with only neodymium magnets placed on the inside of the Plexiglass®, without applying stitches, thanks to the presence of the internal iron alloy armature. Thus, it was the manchira itself, with the complexity of its structure, that suggested, through analysis and careful study, a conservation and display method that undoubtedly falls within the concept of minimal intervention (Figure 6.2.3, right).

A first-century AD Vesuvian ‘coin purse’ This conservation task is the result of Elena Gualandris’ thesis; she conducted the study, conservation work and bibliographic research (Gualandris, 2018).8 The tomographic survey was later organized by the Textile Laboratory.

The object The object under examination, reported as a ‘coin purse’ in the museum archives due to its cylindrical shape and the presumed presence of coins inside it, is the most interesting and complete textile artefact in the collection of the National Archaeological Museum of Naples (Melillo, 2020). Probably due to the specific conditions in which it was preserved, following the exceptional episode of the eruption of the volcano Vesuvius which spread molten rock, pumice and burning ash over the cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, it is one of the few finds in the core that did not undergo the carbonization process. No information is available regarding its discovery (Figure 6.2.4, left). The find is a beige-coloured vegetable-fibre cloth whose textile structure is intact and compact, wrapped around itself several times. It has two openings, one of a semicircular shape in which nine layers of fabric are clearly visible, and another one that can barely be seen, narrowing until it tapers and then closes almost completely. The latter is blocked by two stitching threads, the ends of which are closed by knots hidden beneath the edge itself. The dimensions of the coin purse are 95 × 54 × 32mm. It weighed 100.4g, which was considered excessive for it to be fabric alone, further confirming the hypothesis of the presence of other elements within it.

Conservation status and causes of deterioration The artefact was in a poor state of conservation due to a thick deposit of grey-brown soil that entirely covered the surface, compacting the fibres. The textile wrapping showed a pronounced crushing in the middle, where there were black streaks. At one of the openings there were residues from bright green corrosion, presumably caused by contact with a metal object. In order to understand the level of degradation and the nature of the materials, an investigation campaign was carried out. Diagnostic imaging assisted in setting up the conservation operations. In the infrared (IR) false colour image, the corrosion product gave an intense blue colour; the ultraviolet (UV)

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fluorescence imaging revealed the adherence and compacted nature of the soil deposits that entirely covered the artefact, resulting in a completely black image. The opportunity of unfolding the find was a matter of fruitful debate, but the fragile state of preservation, the need to preserve the nature of the artefact, the only intact piece from the firstcentury AD belonging to the textile collection, and the desire to remove the soil residues in order to stem the deterioration of the fibres, led to the answer. During the decision-making phase some colleagues proposed that the wrapper should be opened, because they assigned more value to the coins than the textile itself. This had happened in the papyrus excavation campaigns of the 1960s, for example, when Coptic fragments were discovered used to wrap the ‘real’ artefacts, the papyri. But in 2022 the conservation methodology was completely changed, and everything was preserved. It was decided to leave the artefact as it was, as a matter of priority, to safeguard the historical evidence of its presumed function of use given by the shape, as well as to avoid the loss of the fibrous material compromised by the extreme degradation of the textile structure. However, the analyses carried out on the Vesuvian coin purse were useful to discover what was inside it. In order to obtain a complete study of the find, it was hypothesized that the use of neutron tomography would have allowed the artefact to be virtually unrolled, highlighting each individual layer, its wrapping and the interactions of the fabric with the metal objects inside it that could not be detected by computed axial tomography. We had several questions: to identify the presence of a selvedge or border on the fabric; to identify the size of the fabric; to understand if the fabric had a particular shape or another original use; to know if it was a plain fabric or if there were embroideries or applied elements, or buttonholes. These are just some of the issues raised concerning the fabric, but there were also many questions about the coins. Tomography was able to answer some of these questions but was only performed after the treatment as we did not have access to this instrument at the time.

Diagnostics It was proposed that a synchrotron could be used to acquire all the data relating to the contents of the fabric and to virtually ‘unwrap’ the purse (Brun et al., 2016). Unfortunately, due to tight deadlines this was not possible, but radiographic9 and tomographic10 investigations were carried out. These analyses made it possible to inspect the contents of the find and to reconstruct the spatial arrangement of the objects within it. Metal elements of advanced degradation were identified: as many as five metal objects of varying shape and thickness that could be understood as coins: in one shot, two sets of coins – one of two and one of three – were arranged one on top of the other (Figure 6.2.4, right). The larger coins were approximately 32mm in diameter and 2mm thick, the smaller ones 25mm in diameter and about half that thickness. From a conservation point of view, they were morphologically altered by advanced corrosion processes, to the extent that it was not possible to read the inscriptions engraved on the edge and to make out the reliefs of figures in the central part. At this stage, it was also possible to discern a string that wasn’t visible from the outside. It was placed at one end of the purse and may have originally been used as a closure. It was therefore assumed that this string was the termination of another fabric inside the visible one, i.e., an earlier coin wrapper. Subsequently, micro-fragments of the deposits leaking from one of the closures of the coin purse were taken, investigated by scanning electron microscope (SEM) and identified as contaminating elements calcium (Ca), silicon (Si) and aluminium (Al), i.e., calcium aluminosilicates. Some fibres which were degraded due to corrosion were taken and observed in cross-section with

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Figure 6.2.4 Left, one side of the ‘coin purse’ before conservation; right, the tomographic image taken before treatment, showing the coins. © Opificio Archive, Ministry of Culture, courtesy of MANN, Naples, Ministry of Culture. Left, image by Ottaviano Caruso. Right, image by Juri Agresti, IFAC-CNR.

the optical microscope: degradation from contact with the metallic elements completely compromised their internal structure. SEM analysis then identified the metal as copper and zinc, i.e., a brass alloy. Finally, investigation with Fourier transform infrared spectrophotometry was performed on the residues of bright green material, identifying it as malachite, a bright green corrosion product.

Conservation treatment It was decided, in agreement with the curators of the collections, to proceed with a treatment that focused on cleaning the outer shell and removing, as much as possible, the malachite concretions leaking from one of the openings. Then it was decided to leave the artefact unaltered, such as the ends of the cloth that had been pulled out or some fibres, still embedded in the fabric, that had been detached. An initial controlled micro-suction was carried out, which from the outset gave excellent results as it allowed the fibres to relax and soften, and removed deposits that were less adhered to the surface. To remove the cohesive deposits, the use of lasers was hypothesized, so experiments were conducted. This choice was motivated by the desire to avoid the use of any aqueous or water vapour medium so as not to interfere with the metal elements inside the wrap, combined with the desire to remove the finest soil particles; laser treatment seemed to fulfil all these requirements. Several cleaning tests were carried out on tissue samples similar to the find, artificially aged and impregnated with soil, in order to identify the most suitable kind of laser and irradiation parameters. The instrument that offered the best results was the Nd: YAG LQS 1064 nm (Gualandris et al., 2023)11 at a very low energy, remaining below the safety threshold.12 In order to prevent the soil residue from redepositing in the surrounding areas following irradiation, the laser was ablated while simultaneously performing microaspiration under a stereoscopic

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microscope. The result was satisfactory as the deposits were completely detached from the surface, while leaving the fibres unaltered. In addition, the surface regained its lustre. Regarding the removal of copper corrosion products, another experiment was carried out using linen and cotton samples soiled with malachite. Comparing the results of several laboratory tests (Gualandris et al., 2021), a 5% EDTA13 complexing solution in 100ml demineralized water combined with Nanorestore Gel® Peggy 5 was chosen. The gel, loaded with the complexing solution and subsequently cut into pieces of the chosen size, promoted the transfer of malachite from the textile surface. After one hour of treatment, the colour of the gel had changed from colourless to blue-green. It is remarkable that, following the cleaning, the image of the ‘purse’ in UV fluorescence shows that the fabric has been freed from the majority of residues and concretions, and the texture is finally visible.

Conclusions The methodology in use since the creation of the OPD Textile Department has informed the planning of scientific investigations to gain knowledge of the artefacts, to assess the state of conservation and to design respectful conservation treatments. Among these, investigations that involve the least stress for the artworks and that are more easily replicable have always been emphasized, in order to create comparative cases capable of enriching the laboratory’s specific knowledge over time, while keeping up with rapid technological innovations. If radiography has been – and still is today, thanks to the digitization of the process – of great importance in investigating the structure and constituent materials of the artworks, it is imaging techniques such as multispectral imaging which represent the fulcrum of the scientific approach to textiles. This analytical technique has been developed in the laboratory since 2005, with a specific strategy for textile artefacts. The approach enhances, on one hand, the creation of a database to compare the results with microinvasive investigations, so that progressively fewer samples have to be taken. On the other hand, the accumulation of experience in the interpretation of images obtained through constant comparison with analysts develops the usefulness of scientific research by applying it to all phases of the conservation and enhancement of the artefacts. This is the perspective we intend to follow with the continuing improvement of non-invasive analytical techniques.

References Boccia, G.L., Probst, S. & Civita, F. (1997). Tra Oriente e Occidente. Cento armi dal Museo Stibbert [Between East and West. One hundred weapons from the Stibbert Museum]. Livorno: Sillabe. Bottomley, I. (1988). Arms and armour of the samurai: the history of weaponry in ancient Japan. London: Defoe. Brun, E., Cotte, M., Wright, J., Ruat, M., Tack, P., Vincze, L., Ferrero, C., Delattre, D. & Mocella V. (2016). Revealing metallic ink in Herculaneum papyri. In R. Janko (Ed.), Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 113(14), 3751–3754. Ann Arbor MI: University of Michigan Press. Ciatti, M. (2015). Prima del moderno OPD: il restauro a Firenze nel primo novecento e il nuovo compito dell’Opificio [Before the modern OPD: conservation in Florence during the first part of the nineteenth century and the new goal of the Opificio]. In M. Ciatti (Ed.), OPD. Quarant’anni di attività 1975–2015: conservazione, ricerca, formazione [OPD. Forty years of activity 1975–2015: conservation, research, education] (pp. 39–60). Florence: Edifir. Conti, S. & Aldrovandi, A., (2007). The use of X-radiography in the Textile Conservation Laboratory, Opificio delle Pietre Dure, Florence. Methodological, technical and research approaches towards a non-invasive

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Guia Rossignoli, Licia Triolo investigative technique. In S. O’Connor & M. Brooks (Eds), X-Radiography of textiles, dress and related objects (pp. 185–202). Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Conti, S., Aldrovandi, A. & Keller, A. (2008). Textile materials: reference standards for the characterisation using multispectral analyses. In Art 2008. Non destructive investigation and microanalysis for the diagnostics and conservation of cultural and environmental heritage. Conference proceedings (pp. 1–11). Jerusalem: ISAS. ​​Conti, S., Triolo, L., Civita, F. & Kato, N. (2010). From historic interiors to the conservation studio: a route to knowledge of a Japanese multi-material textile from the Stibbert Museum in Florence. In A holistic view for historic interiors. Conference proceedings, ICOM-CC Interim meeting, multidisciplinary conservation (pp. 1–13). Rome: ICOM. Degano, I., Triolo, L. & Conti, S. (2013). Beyond the eye-sight: the puzzle of Japanese manchira. e-Preservation Science, 10, 19–26. Gualandris, E. (2018). Il restauro di due reperti tessili archeologici provenienti dall’area vesuviana, ora al Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli (MANN) [The conservation of two archaeological fibres artefacts from the Vesuvian area at the National Archaeological Museum of Naples (MANN)]. Unpublished Masters degree thesis, OPD Higher Education School, Florence. Gualandris, E., Melillo, L., Rossignoli, G. & Tosini, I. (2021). Un inconsueto manufatto tessile dalle collezioni del Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli (MANN): studi e proposte innovative per la conservazione [An unusual textile artefact from the collections of the National Archaeological Museum of Naples (MANN): studies and innovative proposals for conservation]. OPD Restauro, 33, 179–186. Melillo, L. (2020). I reperti tessili dall’area vesuviana nel Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli [The textile finds from the Vesuvian area in the National Archaeological Museum of Naples]. In P. Giulierini, A. Coralini & E. Calandra (Eds), Miniere della memoria. Scavi in archivi, depositi e biblioteche [Mines of memory. Excavations in archives, warehouses and libraries] (pp. 51–61). Florence: All’Insegna del Giglio, Sesto Fiorentino. Rossignoli, G., Patera, A., Lanterna, G., Tosini, I., Gualandris, E., Agresti, J., Ciofini, D., Siano, S. & Miele, F. Diagnostics and conservation of an archaeological ‘coin purse’ from the Vesuvian area. In S. Siano & D. Ciofini (Eds.), Lasers in the Conservation of Artworks XIII (pp. 188–196). Abingdon: Taylor & Francis. Sasama, Y. (1999). Translator, Katō. Zuroku Nihon no Kaccü Bugu jiten [Dictionary of Japanese arms and armour]. Tokyo: Kashiwashobö. Triolo, L. (2009). I tessili dei samurai e il collezionismo ottocentesco: una manchira dal Museo Stibbert di Firenze. Studio, intervento conservativo e progetto espositivo di un’opera polimaterica [Samurai textiles and nineteenth-century collecting: a manchira from the Stibbert Museum in Florence. Study, conservation intervention and exhibition project of a multi-media work]. Unpublished Masters degree thesis, OPD Higher Education School, Florence. Triolo, L. (2019). Uno ‘scrigno’ tessile prezioso per la storia del Giappone: l’intervento conservativo eseguito per la manchira del Museo Stibbert [A precious textile ‘treasure chest’ for the history of Japan: the conservation intervention carried out for the manchira of the Stibbert Museum]. OPD Restauro, 31, 133–142.

Notes * Published in 2024. 1 Radiograph made by Ottavio Ciappi of OPD with these parameters: beryllium thin-window X-ray tube; 220cm distance; anode current 5mA; voltage 30 Kv; exposure time 6 min; XDS-plus film (Imation). Xray fluorescence, which detected iron-based fibre etching, was also performed by Andrea Cagnini of OPD Science Laboratory. 2 The manchira measurements are: 623mm width; 1113mm length; 120mm thickness. 3 The examination was performed by Bruno Radicati, Institute of Applied Physics, National Research Council in Florence (IFAC-CNR), using portable instrumentation: Zeiss MCS601 UV-VIS-NIR spectrophotometer, 1024-diode cable (CCD) sensitivity between 200 and 1050nm. 4 Mini Vacuum-probe®, 30mm diameter, 17mm thickness. 5 With the aid of 1:1 Autocad drawings using a textile ink. 6 With a specifically dyed silk organzine yarn, with thread inserted every 4mm. 7 Made by the Florentine company Tecnoglass. 8 Author Guia Rossignoli was the supervisor of the thesis.

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Non-destructive analysis informing conservation projects 9 Analysis carried out by Andrea Cagnini, Scientific Department of the OPD. 1 0 Analysis carried out by Juri Agresti and Daniele Ciofini, IFAC-CNR, Florence. 11 The experiment was conducted by the OPD under the supervision of Salvatore Siano and Daniele Ciofini (IFAC-CNR). 12 Fluency 0.75 J/cm2 and frequency 2Hz. 13 Ethylenediaminetetraacetic acid: its functions are to chemically bind to and remove corrosion products from copper.

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6.3 THE ANALYSIS AND STITCH SUPPORT TREATMENT OF A SUSPECTED TIN-WEIGHTED SILK CHILD’S DRESS* Rosie Chamberlin, Paul Garside Introduction This case study presents the analysis and conservation treatment of a dress worn by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II as a baby, in 1927 (Figure 6.3.1). The historically significant costume, which is a rare and exciting acquisition for Historic Royal Palaces, possessed multiple areas of structural damage such as splitting and shattering, consistent with the inherent vice of tin-weighted silk and its characteristic patterns of degradation. Silk has long been prized for its lustre, fineness and durability, and as such is now represented by numerous items in historic textile collections. As with any historic material, appropriate care

Figure 6.3.1  Princess Elizabeth wearing the dress in 1927.  © Historic Royal Palaces.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003358787-52442

Analysis and treatment of a tin-weighted silk child’s dress

requires an understanding of its provenance, history and particular properties – the desirable qualities of silk relate directly to its fundamental chemistry and structure (a proteinaceous, filamentary material, with a highly crystalline microstructure) and to the methods of processing to which it may have been exposed (including degumming, bleaching and weighting); these in turn influence the way in which the material will behave and change as it ages. Weighting, in particular, plays an important role in the behaviour of silk. Historically (from the medieval period onward), silk in Europe was treated with a variety of weighting agents, initially to fraudulently increase its weight (and thus value), and subsequently to introduce desirable texture and drape. From the mid nineteenth to early twentieth centuries, across Europe and North America, weighting with tin salts became common, yielding a material with a particular drape, handle and sheen, as well as providing a fashionable rustle for clothing as the wearer moved. Over time, however, the effects of tin weighting were not so desirable: the extremes of pH that the silk was subjected to during weighting resulted in an extremely fragile fabric that split and shattered on handling.

Objectives The curatorial brief required the dress to provide visual context and narrative in future exhibitions and during visits to the stored collection to effectively communicate the story of HM Queen Elizabeth II as a key historical figure. Conservation was therefore necessary to strengthen areas of structural weakness, prevent further damage and loss, and enable the object to withstand display.

Analysis and assessment The attribution date and observed condition of the costume were suggestive of tin-weighted silk, which has been seen to be weaker than unweighted silk (and silk weighted with other agents), due to the high levels of weighting and harsh processing methods used. Analysis was therefore desirable prior to conservation so that a more informed approach to treatment could be taken. Given the time constraints and the unavailability of analytical equipment, it was necessary to look at other methods to assess the likelihood of weighting agents being present. This was achieved by considering the general appearance, handle and texture of the fabric of the dress (which was seen to possess a characteristic sheen and slight stiffness of drape) and by adapting simple bench analyses to investigate the potential presence of these materials; together these suggested the presence of tin weighting. The necessity of evaluating the object in this way demonstrated a simple and straightforward method by which tin-weighted silk might be indicated. Previous research carried out by the authors had ascertained the possible potential of pH measurement through agar gel extraction and microscopy to further indicate weighting agents in silk (Chamberlin, in press); a particularly important aspect of these techniques is that they are nonsampling and only minimally invasive, providing valuable information without presenting any significant risks. These bench methods were therefore applied to the child’s dress. In general, silk is known to naturally become more acidic as it ages (Kim et al., 2008), but tin-weighted silk has been found to be buffered to a neutral pH irrespective of age (Garside et al., 2010); therefore, the neutral pH measurements taken from the costume supported suspicions of tin weighting (Figure 6.3.2). The method of analysis was adapted from one developed at the Getty Conservation Institute (GCI, 2018) and is undergoing further testing to determine its applicability as a reliable indicator of the presence of weighting agents.

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Figure 6.3.2 pH measurements taken in triplicate in two locations on the dress using agar gel and a Horiba pH meter.1 © Historic Royal Palaces.

Figure 6.3.3 The damaged silk at ×50 magnification revealing a pattern of damage. © Historic Royal Palaces.

Microscopy further backed up the hypothesis that the fabric of the dress was weighted, with a characteristic pattern of damage identified, and a similar sheen observed in both the warp and the weft threads, suggesting even weighting throughout the weave (Figure 6.3.3). Individually, each of these methods (pH measurement and microscopy) is indicative, but not fully diagnostic. Therefore, while further research is required, the results of the analyses taken together, along with an understanding of the condition and provenance of the item, gave a strong suggestion of the presence of tin weighting. This was deemed sufficient to provide the basis of decision-making for appropriate conservation approaches. This knowledge enabled an informed route of treatment to be chosen and certain treatments to be omitted. For example, although the dress does possess some disfiguring staining (not thought to be evidence of wear), wet cleaning was not undertaken as silk 444

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is naturally weaker when wet, and tin-weighted silk is likely to already be structurally impaired as result of the weighting process. The addition of excess moisture could therefore risk further weakening the suspected tin-weighted silk, as the uptake of moisture would cause fibres to swell (leading to physical disruption) and gain further in weight (placing additional strain on already weakened structures).2 It was thought that other solvents, too, could risk damage via desiccation (Garside & Wyeth, 2006; in particular, see Case Study 2: Silk Fibres and the Shackleton Ensign, pp. 73–84).

Conservation Preliminary treatments that introduce water to a textile (such as humidification or wet cleaning) were ruled out due to the concern that risks posed to the object would outweigh any potential benefit. However, the structural support treatment of the dress was considered an essential conservation requirement in order to prevent any further loss of the historically significant artefact. The literature shows us that the conservation treatment of weighted silk remains contentious (Hacke, 2008). Stitching through it to apply support risks splitting the weak silk further (Meijer, 2014), while the application of an adhesive support risks delamination and further damage (Reiter et al., 2005) or change to the drape and physical characteristics of costume (Gilcrease, 2018: 20–21). Given the nature of the object addressed in this paper, it was decided that, providing the risk of further damage could be prevented as far as possible, a stitch support approach would be the most suitable option for treatment. An adhesive approach was discounted as it was felt that the addition of adhesive to the support fabric would result in increased stiffness and weight of the fragile silk costume, which would cause issues with drape and put unsupported areas under tension when on display. Using a lower percentage of adhesive to try and mitigate these issues was thought likely to result in a more interventive approach than was desirable, i.e., the edges of the support would then require stitching to prevent the risk of delamination and further damage. Furthermore, it was felt that a stitch support would offer more control than an adhesive option, allowing adjustment in spacing and tension in response to the costume as the treatment progressed. The risk of causing further damage to the split and shattered silk dress, whilst carrying out the proposed stitch support treatment, was minimized by the following actions: • Careful treatment planning: the collar was treated first, as it was observed to be structurally in the worst condition when compared to the other areas of the costume requiring support (the proper right bust panel, sleeves, cuffs and buttons) and therefore most at risk of further damage through the handling necessitated during treatment (Figure 6.3.4). • The use of ‘like for like’ materials: while each area of damage was unique, necessitating a bespoke support and stitching technique, the same fabrics and thread (conservation dyed fine silk habutai, silk crepeline and monofilament silk thread) were used throughout the treatment in order that the support would respond in a similar way to the suspected tin-weighted silk during handling, changes in the environment and mounting for display. • Minimizing interventions: patterns were taken of areas of damage using lens tissue and a soft pencil (Figure 6.3.4a), with mark making kept to a minimum to reduce unnecessary pressure on the weakened silk. These paper patterns were then transferred onto Melinex® for blocking out the support fabrics (Figure 6.3.4b); this two-stage process was adopted as Melinex® itself is too prone to build-up of static charge to allow it to be used directly in contact with a fragile object such as this one. Where a turned edge was required, raw edges were turned over the edges of the Melinex® whilst wet, making sure to leave enough material to accommodate the shifting silk 445

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of the dress during application. Stitching into the fragile silk was carried out as minimally as possible. For example, the two layers of support fabric (habutai patches and crepeline overlay) used in the treatment of the collar were stitched together through areas of loss, sandwiching the structurally damaged silk to visually and structurally infill as well as protect against abrasion and the subsequent lifting of fragile silk fibres (Figures 6.3.4c–4d). The turned edges of the crepeline overlay were anchored into the embroidery stitches bordering the collar. Where stitching into the silk was unavoidable, it was extended into the stronger areas of the costume such as the seams (Figures 6.3.4e–4f). • Observation of stitching under magnification: a Dino-Lite digital microscope was set up at the workstation and used periodically throughout the treatment to assess the stitching. Stitching was also trialled under magnification on sacrificial silk prior to starting the treatment, to ensure that this approach enabled appropriate control of the process. In most instances, magnification revealed that stitches naturally passed through interstices in the weave, as the areas of least resistance, rather than splitting fibres and further weakening the silk. More generally, magnification was also used to help align the weave of support fabrics to that of the object and gain

Figure 6.3.4 The central diagram shows the planned method of treatment for different areas of the dress. The surrounding images show the measures followed to mitigate damage during conservation, clockwise from top left: a) patterns were taken using spider tissue and a soft pencil; b) paper patterns were transferred onto Melinex® to block out support fabrics; c)–f) bespoke stitch support was provided, using minimal stitching. © Historic Royal Palaces.

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confidence in obtaining the correct tension of thread. When not utilizing the Dino-Lite as a visual aid, a normal bench magnifier lamp was used.3

Discussion The steps taken to protect the fragile silk costume during conservation were seen to be effective. In particular, the use of stitching aided by microscopy was demonstrated to be a successful solution for the treatment of degraded weighted silk and helped fulfil the overarching goal of stabilizing the dress for display. The ability to observe stitches passing naturally through the interstices of the weave structure provided reassurance throughout the treatment. Microscopy also enabled the weave of the support fabrics to be properly aligned to that of the object and ensured that the correct placement and tension of thread were being achieved. However, this approach was time-consuming, taking 170 hours to complete, and, during the process of the conservation work, further weak areas were identified which there was insufficient time to treat. On reflection, with the insights gained through the treatment of the dress, a more time-efficient approach could be proposed without sacrificing the benefits achieved by utilizing magnification, i.e., by providing the dress with a full support rather than supporting areas of damage in isolation. Taking this approach, further conservation stitching could then be applied as and when necessary or when time allows. It was concluded that in its current condition the dress could be displayed semi-three-­ dimensionally with the support of soft packing (polyester wadding covered with undyed silk habutai). However, if display on a mannequin is required, the object would need to be reassessed and further conservation carried out to ensure the costume is strong enough to withstand vertical display for the duration of an exhibition. This project highlighted that, while our work is guided by the principle of minimal intervention, the inherent fragility of tin-weighted silk means that a high level of support is required to return structural integrity to a weighted silk object such as this. The popularity of tin weighting between the mid nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, coupled with the high status of items composed of the material, means that this issue is not unique to Historic Royal Palaces but is one of much wider concern, encountered internationally and across collections. Furthermore, literature suggests that flags or colours were often composed of tin-weighted silk and, similarly to costume, are often required to withstand their own weight during vertical display. Hence there are potentially whole other object groups to consider when discussing the benefits of further research in this area. This work also provides a good example of the way in which observations about an object can provide insights into its composition and condition, even if unequivocal direct evidence for those characteristics is not available. For example, to determine the presence of metal salt weighting in silk, X-ray fluorescence (or another method of elemental analysis) would be the ‘gold standard’ technique; however, these methods are also expensive and require expertise and experience to use and interpret correctly, limiting their availability, especially for smaller institutions or independent conservators. Therefore, in the absence of this equipment, other approaches must be used. Weighted silk, for example, has a number of characteristic features which may be readily identified through observation, handling and simple analysis, including: • • • •

Provenance Drape Texture when handled Appearance to the eye, or with low-level magnification 447

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• Appearance of discrete fibres in transmitted light under the microscope • Acidity • Ageing behaviour and deterioration. Any one of these features, considered individually, may not be sufficient to allow the reliable identification of weighting of the material, but taken in conjunction can allow a confident characterization, which will then inform conservation and collection care decisions. This demonstrates the fundamental importance of being able to draw together different strands of evidence when considering treatment of cultural heritage artefacts and interpreting them to provide an appreciation of their properties and probable behaviours. Taking an overview of the project, it is also apparent that it highlights areas in which further research would be beneficial. To ascertain the full potential of pH measurement and microscopy for the identification of weighting agents in silk, allowing a more fully informed understanding of the true fragility of a textile prior to treatment, a larger-scale project is required. This could take the form of a collection survey, trialling the two simple bench methods against a known reliable method of elemental analysis such as X-ray fluorescence, which will give a definite indication of the presence of metal salt weighting agents, but which is not available as a routine technique for the majority of conservators, due to the limited availability of the equipment. Further research is also desirable into the use of a stitch support treatment for degraded weighted silk. It was decided to publish this case study as, while the use of adhesives has been widely critiqued in the available literature (Keyserlingk, 1990; Gentle, 1998; Tinker, 2011), published material discussing the use of stitch support treatments performed on shattered silk objects are scarce. ‘The lack of research and evaluation is probably due to the fact that stitching is regarded as something natural in combination with textiles, while adhesive treatments do not have the same tradition as stitching and have been more scrutinised because they are less familiar’ (Nilsson, 2015). This makes it difficult to adequately compare the suitability and impact of the two approaches, to reach a fully informed decision.

Conclusion This project allowed for the practical application of both literary and analytical research previously carried out by the authors. By developing a methodology that combined chemical analysis, microscopic examination and a bespoke stitch support treatment under magnification, it was possible to provide an informed conservation treatment, fulfilling the project objectives and curatorial brief; it also provided information which gives a wider understanding of the object and its history, and which contributes to the documentation available on it. The techniques used have the further advantage that they are relatively inexpensive, widely available, minimally interventive, and can be readily applied, enabling pre-treatment investigation of this kind to be carried out where more complex or expensive analytical approaches are not available or cannot be justified. These considerations indicate why it is important to reconsider conservation techniques in the light of new knowledge and use this as a basis for choosing the most appropriate methods of treatment. The selection of what is deemed to be the most appropriate treatment method is often cyclic (in the case of support for weighted silk, first stitching, then the use of adhesive supports, and now a return to favour of stitching again), with the decisions based on the best available knowledge at the time. Problems with the stability of weighted silk have been appreciated for a long time, but the development of increasingly widely available analytical methods to understand these materials

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and apply the results of analysis to decision-making enables past and current treatments to be better understood. On this basis, it is possible to examine a long-established method (stitching), and to justify why this method, whilst not novel, represents the most appropriate method of addressing the problems in these vulnerable materials. It is hoped that by presenting this case study, discussion is facilitated and further viable treatment options for the inherent problem of degraded weighted silk are sought.

References Chamberlin, R. (2018). In search of solutions: the conservation of degraded weighted silk costume 1837– 1910. Unpublished research project dissertation, MA Conservation of Historic Objects, University of Lincoln. Chamberlin, R. (in press). In search of solutions: the conservation of degraded weighted silk costume 1837– 1910. Postprints, ICOM-CC Textiles Working Group Interim Meeting 2019. Riggisberg: Abegg-Stiftung. Garside, P., Mills, G., Smith, J.R. & Wyeth, P. (2014). An investigation of weighted and degraded silk by complementary microscopy techniques. e-Preservation Science, 11, 15–21. Garside, P. & Wyeth, P. (2006). Textiles. In E. May & M. Jones (Eds), Conservation science: heritage materials (pp. 56–91). Cambridge: Royal Society of Chemistry. Garside, P., Wyeth, P. & Zhang, X. (2010). The inherent acidic characteristics of silk, Part II – weighted silks. e-Preservation Science, 7, 126–131. GCI (2018). Video 5: Measuring pH and conductivity with Horiba Meters. Cleaning of acrylic painted surfaces. Available from: https://www.getty.edu/conservation/our_projects/education/caps/workshop_materials.html Gentle, N. (1998). A decade and a half of hindsight: two adhesive treatments reconsidered. In J. Lewis (Ed.), Adhesive treatments revisited. Postprints, UKIC Textile Section Third Adhesives Forum (pp. 28–30). London: UKIC. Gilcrease, S. (2018). The effect of humidification on artificially aged tin-weighted silks. MSc thesis, University of Rhode Island. Open Access Master’s Theses, Paper 1298. Available from: https://digitalcommons. uri.edu/theses/1298 Hacke, M. (2008). Weighted silk history, analysis and conservation. Studies in Conservation, 53(sup2), 3–15. Historic Royal Palaces (2020). HM Queen Elizabeth II’s baby dress undergoes conservation. Online video, YouTube. Available from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PKoKtq3A3M Keyserlingk, M. (1990). The use of adhesives in textile conservation. In K. Grimstad (Ed.), Preprints, 9th ICOM-CC, 1990, Dresden (pp. 307–312). Paris: ICOM. Kim, J., Zhang, X. & Wyeth, P. (2008). The inherent acidic characteristics of silk. e-Preservation Science, 5, 41–46. Meijer, S. (2014). Bonding issues? Adhesive treatments past and present in the Rijksmuseum. In J. Bridgland (Ed.), Preprints, 17th ICOM-CC, 2014, Melbourne. Paris: ICOM. Nilsson, J. (2015). Ageing and conservation of silk: evaluation of three support methods using artificially aged silk. Doctorate dissertation, University of Gothenburg. Available from: http://hdl.handle.net/2077/40524 Reiter, S., Sutcliffe, H., Sutherland, K. & Price, B.A. (2005). Second time’s the curse: the shattered silks of Schiaparelli. In K. MacKay, B. Szuhay & J. Thompson (Eds), Postprints AIC TSG, 2005 (pp. 43–49). Washington DC: AIC. Tímár-Balászy, A. & Eastop, D. (1998). Chemical principles of textile conservation. Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Tinker, Z. (2011). Pragmatism with past adhesive treatments. In Proceedings of Symposium 2011. Adhesives and Consolidants for Conservation: Research and Applications (pp. 503–516). Ottawa: CCI.

Notes * Published in 2024 Copyright 2023 Historic Royal Palaces. All rights reserved.

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Rosie Chamberlin, Paul Garside 1 Agarose: A9539 Sigma, supplier: Sigma-Aldrich Company Ltd. https://www.sigmaaldrich.com/catalog/ product/sigma/a9539?lang=en®ion=GB. Horiba pH metre: AQUA model B712, supplier: HORIBA Advanced Techno Co., Ltd. 31, Miyanonishi-cho, Kisshoin, Minami-ku, Kyoto, 601–8306 Japan. 2 Furthermore, there are a variety of other reasons why wet treatments may not be appropriate for silk artefacts: • Raw silk was sometimes not degummed in order to achieve a heavier weighting, as the amorphous sericin can take up weighting agents more readily than the highly crystalline fibroin. Sericin is soluble and can therefore be lost during treatments that introduce water to a textile, crease removal and aqueous cleaning (Chamberlin, 2018). • Absorption of moisture is known to be particularly damaging to deteriorated silk (whether weighted or not), as water is preferentially taken up into the amorphous regions which are also the principal sites at which damage occurs, so tend to exhibit fragility. • Uptake of moisture causes fibres to gain in weight and undergo transverse swelling (Tímár-Balászy & Eastop, 1998), which is likely to place an even greater burden on weighted materials which have already experienced a degree of swelling (Garside et al., 2014). 3 A synopsis of the treatment is available on the Historic Royal Palaces YouTube channel (Historic Royal Palaces, 2020).

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6.4 MONITORING LIGHT-INDUCED CHANGE IN TEXTILES AT THE COLONIAL WILLIAMSBURG FOUNDATION* Jacquelyn Peterson-Grace The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation (CWF) has a long history of displaying textiles, from quilts and coverlets to needlework samplers, furnishing textiles, garments, and accessories. Presently, The Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg include three dedicated textile gallery spaces. The inherent light sensitivity of textile collections demands that textile exhibitions be rotated or replaced regularly to avoid damaging the objects on display. However, the limited resources of museum staff, time, and space have resulted in exhibition durations that are regularly extended. Gathering spectrophotometry data on objects before and after exhibition and correlating the measured shifts in colour with exhibition length aid in making informed decisions about display practices. Continued data collection and the incorporation of microfade testing into exhibition preparations will shape future exhibitions in these museum spaces.

Early textile display practices The establishment of The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation is described in Guidess’ case study in Chapter 2. The Foundation began collecting historic objects soon after it was created, primarily to use as furnishings for its restored historic interiors. This history of textile acquisition and exhibition has had a direct impact on the collection and present-day practices. Historic furnishing textiles were displayed in interpreted historic house interiors as recently as the 1970s, occasionally in conjunction with reproduction textiles to dress interior spaces. These objects were rotated every six months to fulfil long-term preservation goals and conform to seasonally appropriate interpretation, along with efforts to reduce light exposure. Preventive conservation measures employed Foundation-wide are described in Silence’s case study in Chapter 5. Eventually, concerns about light exposure, dust accumulation, and historic building envelopes that lacked environmental controls resulted in all antique textiles in the Historic Area being replaced with reproductions. Over the past five decades, Foundation staff and volunteers have created a wide range of reproduction furnishing textiles using period techniques and historically accurate materials when possible. These reproductions, including bed hangings, quilts, coverlets, pillows, curtains, slipcovers, carpets, and table linens, are inspected daily while on display and rotated seasonally. Upon removal

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from the historic interiors, all reproduction textiles undergo low temperature treatment for pest mitigation before being laundered or dry cleaned. Cleaned reproductions are stored in hanging storage within a climate-controlled space in the collections care building when not on display. The Historic Area also includes trade shops that study and practise eighteenth-century trades. The Margaret Hunter millinery shop, one of the Foundation’s 89 eighteenth-century buildings, was restored and reopened in 1954. The interior included spaces for the display of historic artefacts, and many period textiles, garments, and accessories were purchased in England around that time specifically for display in the shop (Figure 6.4.1). Documentation regarding the Margaret Hunter Shop’s early display history is limited. Internal files reference ‘seasonal changes’ for some objects, but no detail is included about how long objects were displayed and what the impetus for rotations was. Some small accessories seem to have been on continuous display for years. In the late 1970s and 1980s, garments and accessories were selected for display in the shop based on their structural integrity and displayed for six or more months at a time. Historic flat textile fragments from the collection, many of which are skirt panels from gowns that were deconstructed prior to acquisition, were staged to look like bolts of yardage arranged on shelves as if they were for sale in the shop. These objects were largely selected because

Figure 6.4.1 Interior of the Margaret Hunter Shop, circa 1963–1969.  Objects including the red gown (CWF1947-509) and green petticoat (CWF1953-851) on the left and the blue gown (CWF1960-714,1), petticoat (CWF1960-715), and stomacher (CWF1953-314) on the right are staged alongside a mix of reproductions and accessioned objects such as shoes (CWF1953318,1&2 and CWF1953–984,1&2) and headwear (CWF1952–55) in the wall case on the right and smaller objects such as pocketbooks (CWF1952-341) in the centre front case on the counter. The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

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they were duplicates of others in the collection; one fragment was chosen for use in the Historic Area with the understanding that it would be likely to incur change while the duplicate could remain protected from light and secured in the institution’s custom-built, environmentally controlled storage space, as described in Guidess’ case study in Chapter 2. The exhibition of eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century garments and accessories in these historic and reconstructed buildings persisted until the opening of the newly constructed DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Gallery in 1985.

Impact on collections The long history of textile display across the Foundation has had a significant impact on objects in the collection. An abbreviated survey of textiles with documented Margaret Hunter Shop exhibition histories revealed that some objects fared well even after years of display, while others bear signs of significant light-induced degradation. Some of the objects in Figure 6.4.1 like the pocketbook (CWF1952-341) are slightly faded but retain their interpretive value as richly decorated textile objects. Other objects like those in Figure 6.4.2 are so different in both appearance and structural stability that they can no longer be displayed. Examining past display practices and comparing them to the present condition of the collection clearly illustrates that years of exhibition in an uncontrolled environment is damaging to light-sensitive materials.

Figure 6.4.2 Detail image of the silk gown (CWF1947-509) and green petticoat (CWF1953-851) visible in the corner display case in Figure 6.4.1.  Protected areas of the red textile on the interior of the skirt are significantly darker than the exterior of the garment. Light exposure has weakened the green silk, contributing to the structural damage visible just below the waistband. Colour differences between protected and exposed areas of both objects measure between ΔE 9.5  and ΔE 11.3.  Image by Jacquelyn Peterson-Grace, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

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Textile exhibitions and lighting at the Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg The DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Gallery, opened in 1985 as a custom-built space created specifically for the display of historic artwork and artefacts, included the Len and Cyndy Alaimo gallery for the display of flat and three-dimensional textiles (Figure 6.4.3). Inaugural textile exhibitions highlighted masterworks from the permanent textile collection, allowing ample opportunity for frequent object rotations directed by the textile curators. Eventually, the museum began introducing themed exhibitions that were arranged by an exhibition designer and planned for specific durations following a museum-wide schedule. Early themed exhibitions were planned for 12-month durations for light-sensitive material. However, the demands of planning and designing regularly changing exhibitions in each of the 33 galleries in the Art Museums with limited exhibition staff resulted in extending textile exhibitions from 18 to 24 months to relieve workloads. When timely rotations were not possible, galleries were periodically closed for part of the day to limit light exposure. The textile gallery has also briefly displayed exhibitions of other media, including pewter, to provide a respite for both the textile collection and the textile curatorial and conservation staff. The case layouts and lighting throughout the museum were designed to be static with halogen and incandescent lighting in all gallery spaces. Lighting considerations have always played a significant role in textile exhibition decisions, and light has been limited to five foot-candles (53.8 lux) since textile exhibitions were moved from the Historic Area to controllable spaces in the Museums.

Figure 6.4.3 The Alaimo gallery in 2020, showcasing flat and three-dimensional textiles from the collection with motion-activated lighting. Image by Jason Copes, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

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When the textile gallery opened, the lighting for all the textile casework was designed to be activated by visitors pushing a button to turn lights on while viewing the objects. This lighting design was not replaced when it wore out, as museum staff observed that visitors didn’t always realize that they needed to interact with the lighting to properly view the exhibition, and motion-activated lighting was seen as more visitor friendly. Over the past 30 years sections of the gallery have been retrofitted with occupancy sensors, and presently most of the textile gallery lighting is motion-activated. Lessons learned from the design of the inaugural textile gallery were incorporated into subsequent textile gallery spaces as the museum expanded. The Foster and Muriel McCarl gallery in the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum opened in 2007 and is designed to exhibit large, flat textiles. Occupancy sensors were included in the design of this gallery, and motion-activated lighting has been in place since it opened. To address visitor confusion about galleries with occupancy sensor lighting appearing too dark, suggesting they are closed, ceiling-mounted projectors cast images related to the exhibition content onto the floor. These colourful, moving projections invite visitors into the space without directing unnecessary light onto the objects. The newest gallery dedicated to textiles, the Mary and Clint Gilliland Costume Gallery, was created during the 2020 expansion of the Art Museums and will primarily display historic garments on fully dressed and accessorized mannequins. This space and the rest of the exhibition spaces created during this most recent expansion include Lighting Services Inc. track lighting with the capability to be motion activated or continuous, depending on the orientation in which the bulb is inserted. This provides much greater flexibility for curating and displaying mixed-media exhibitions. The addition of motion-activated lighting in the textile gallery spaces resulted in a greater push for extending exhibition durations. To better understand the impact of these lighting condition changes, conservation and facilities staff installed circuit counters in galleries with occupancy sensors. The counters click on and count the passing time in fractions of an hour when current begins flowing through the circuits, and they click off when the current stops flowing. This technology provides an accurate record of how often the lights are on in each dedicated textile space. The Art Museums are open eight hours per day, seven days per week, year-round. This exceeds opening durations on which many published lighting guidelines are based, making it challenging to apply such guidelines to the CWF collection. The data from the circuit counters is used to determine the actual light exposure that each exhibition experiences, factoring in the impact of motion-activated lighting. The Art Museums welcome approximately 186,000 visitors annually, and ongoing data collection indicates that the lighting in the textile galleries is on approximately 50% of the time that the museum is open.

Light exposure management and current display practices The CWF conservation department has created general lighting guidelines to direct display practices, based on published literature (Ashley-Smith et al., 2002; Michalski, 2011). These guidelines acknowledge that cumulative and irreversible change happens in most objects each time they are exposed to light, that the amount of change is dictated by both light intensity and exhibition duration, and that lighting parameters should be based on published research to guide expectations for how an object may change when exposed to light. They specify that lighting for sensitive objects should not exceed 50 lux and offer suggestions for exhibition durations, emphasizing the use of preventive measures to minimize light-induced change. Exhibition lighting design takes place after all objects, wall text, and labels have been installed. Textile and preventive conservation staff take light measurements with a handheld 455

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Konica Minolta® T-10 Illuminance Meter after lighting has been finalized to confirm that light levels are appropriate and to collect data that will be used to calculate overall light dosage after exhibition. Annotated images of the installed objects provided by conservators identifying ‘hot spots’ have proven useful in communicating where light levels need to be adjusted. Each of the textile galleries features curated exhibitions that draw heavily from the Foundation’s rich textile, garment, and accessory collection. Current textile display practices, dictated by Foundation leadership, mandate three-year durations for themed exhibitions with 12-month rotations, meaning that each gallery must be entirely rotated on an annual basis. Some objects considered critical to an exhibition’s narrative may be considered for three years of continuous display. For textile exhibitions with broad interpretive themes like The Art of the Quilter that display a wide range of quilt styles and construction techniques, selections from the Foundation’s extensive collection ensure years of rotations and offer the opportunity to showcase new accessions. More narrowly defined exhibition themes make meeting this mandate more challenging, often resulting in long display times for the few objects that do meet interpretive parameters. In 2016, textile conservation staff recognized the need to monitor colour shifts in objects to inform these exhibition practices.

Colour measurement of collections Historically, colour measurement has been used in conservation to evaluate colour shifts in objects over time and to aid in colour matching treatment materials to objects (Brommelle, 1955; Berns et al., 2005). Monitoring colour change, particularly exhibition-induced colour shifts, has been undertaken via a range of techniques. Spectrophotometry is a non-invasive technique to measure the amount of light reflected at individual wavelengths across the spectrum of visible light, resulting in a spectrophotometric curve in which the per cent reflectance is plotted against the wavelength value (Johnston-Feller, 2001). This technique was used by the National Gallery in London to monitor colour change in paintings on display, employing a spectrophotometer built specifically for use on objects (Bullock, 1978). Colorimetry, which numerically describes colour within a tristimulus colour space, was used by Ford to measure change in textiles after exhibition (1992). Other methods of colour measurement have also been employed in cultural preservation, including an electronic colour densitometer to measure change in colour photographs and employing an electronic imaging system to record and describe colour (Wilhelm, 1981; Saunders et al., 1996). More recently, spectrophotometry has been used to qualitatively evaluate colour change under experimental parameters in conservation and related preservation fields (Edison, 2002; Thompson & Embree, 2007; Pearlstein & Keene, 2010). CWF purchased a Konica Minolta® CM-2600D Spectrophotometer in 2002 specifically to evaluate the impact of bathing paper artefacts by measuring treatment-induced colour shifts. Operating the instrument proved challenging and time-consuming and it was used infrequently until 2016, when conservation staff began incorporating spectrophotometry readings into textile exhibition workflows to document colour changes in objects resulting from light exposure during exhibition. Templates are created by tracing distinguishing design elements onto a piece of Mylar® (transparent polyester film) and identifying individual, solid fields of colour for measurement. Holes are punched in the Mylar® where readings will be taken, and measurement locations are labelled

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for data management. The template provides the guidance needed to ensure that before- and afterexhibition measurements are taken in the same location and can therefore provide an accurate comparison of colour. The instrument has a 3mm diameter aperture, which must be in direct contact with the object and aligned over the selected measurement area by looking through a small shutter on the top. Once aligned, the instrument takes three successive measurements in each location and the measurements are automatically averaged. Measurements are taken in the CIELAB 1976 colour space, and SpectraMagicTM NX Lite software is used to calculate the changes in the L (dark to light), a (green to red), and b (blue to yellow) axes and to provide an overall colour difference, reported as the delta E (ΔE) value. These measurements are used to assess colour shifts and light damage that has occurred in objects during the display period. The exact ΔE numeric value at which a colour change can be perceived is subjective and based on a wide range of factors, but published literature indicates that values between ΔE 1.5 and ΔE 2 are generally perceptible to the average viewer when colours are compared side by side (Beltran et al., 2021: 22). Before-exhibition measurements are taken on objects that are laid flat on work surfaces in the textile conservation lab or textile storage (Figure 6.4.4). Garments are measured before being dressed on three-dimensional forms, and spectrophotometer measurement locations are chosen

Figure 6.4.4 Marshall Steel Post-graduate fellow in textile conservation Sara Ludueña takes spectrophotometer measurements on CWF1955-175 in the textile lab. The aperture, located on the bottom, must be aligned over the Mylar® template by looking through a small window on the top front of the instrument. Image by Brendan Sostak, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

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based on intended display orientation with consideration given to where accessories may protect against light exposure. When creating templates, colours that are known to be particularly light sensitive are prioritized where possible.

Instrumental limitations Limitations and inconsistencies with operation of the spectrophotometer have created some discrepancies in the data that have been collected. Successful data collection requires a solid and uniform area of colour at least as large as the aperture. Repeatability is difficult with small or variable areas of colour, and ΔE values may be inflated if the instrument is aligned incorrectly. These limitations became evident when readings were taken on objects with small areas of colour such as textiles with dense, printed motifs, and the resulting data suggested colour shifts above ΔE 20. Such a change would be evident in before- and after-exhibition photography, but no such dramatic change was observed. The spectrophotometer must be calibrated each time it is turned on to ensure accurate measurements. Failure to properly calibrate the instrument when it was first turned on, or calibrating too infrequently, also resulted in flawed data. Objects that are small, complex, and three-dimensional such as shoes and embroidered caskets have also proven challenging to monitor. The instrument requires flat, direct contact with the object in an orientation that allows access to the aperture viewing window for proper alignment over the template. This can be problematic for objects with limited surface area or three-dimensional surfaces because alignment is difficult and ambient light may interfere with measurements. Efforts to periodically monitor colour changes on objects while they remain on display have also proved challenging. Casework limits access to the surfaces of objects, and reaching target areas on large objects such as quilts may require ladders or step stools if access isn’t factored into the creation of the original template. Replicating measurements on three-dimensional forms such as dressed mannequins is also difficult. Taking colour measurements mid-exhibition could strengthen arguments against extending a show or rotating specific objects that have displayed significant measurable colour shifts, but the difficulties of access for data collection have made this unfeasible in practice.

Results of spectrophotometry data collection Incorporating spectrophotometry readings into exhibition workflows and interpreting the data collected from the instrument have presented challenges, but the information gathered has allowed for a better understanding of the consequences of current display practices. The effect is less obvious than the light damage observed on the textiles in Figure 6.4.2. Most objects when deinstalled after 12–18 months of display appear visually unchanged, but spectrophotometer data has consistently confirmed measurable colour shifts with ΔE values between 1 and 5. Larger values have been recorded on objects in pristine condition with no recorded display history, suggesting that the greatest colour shifts may occur upon initial exposure to light (Saunders, 2020: 90). Data confirms that the smallest amount of change takes place on objects displayed for 12 months or less, though perceptible changes are taking place in the collection each time it is displayed, even with preventive measures such as motion-activated lighting in place. Measuring and recording changes in colour provide a valuable indication of the rate of lightinduced degradation but cannot fully describe changes in the object or light-induced structural damage (Beltran et al., 2021: 62). An overview of the complex relationship between dyes, finishes, and fibre types and exposure to visible light and ultraviolet radiation is given by Saunders (2020). 458

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Future plans Spectrophotometry has been incorporated into exhibition preparation workflows, and measurements are taken on almost every textile object that goes on display. This practice will continue, and additional data will be used to inform future exhibition-related decisions. Mylar® templates are archived in conservation records after secondary measurements have been taken and can be revisited if the object is selected for future exhibitions. Spectrophotometer data collection and interpretation are being standardized, which will address some of the limitations of the instrument and make it an increasingly useful tool. Assigning a numeric value to colour changes, documenting them in the conservation record, and communicating them to curatorial and exhibition staff will greatly inform future exhibition plans for individual objects and may help guide future exhibition rotation planning. However, spectrophotometry measurements are only useful for measuring light-induced change after it has taken place. To better predict the sensitivity of some objects, the Foundation has recently purchased a microfade tester. Data collected with this analytical tool will inform exhibition duration guidelines for specific objects, dictating either shorter than normal display times or granting permission for longer than normal display parameters. Spectrophotometer measurements will be collected before and after exhibitions and compared to microfade testing results. This information will also be cross-referenced with actual light exposure from the circuit counters, and targeted light level readings taken in the galleries after objects were installed. As textile exhibitions in the Art Museums are expected to remain on view for three years with 12-month rotations and some objects do not have suitable rotations, the ability to predict light sensitivity will greatly inform exhibition design and interpretation decision-making processes. Upcoming exhibitions aim to meet their educational and story-telling goals by showcasing a variety of media, which leads to a rich interpretive visitor experience but presents challenges in exhibition design and collections care. Motion-activated track lighting may aid in protecting the more lightsensitive objects on display in a multi-media exhibition. Ongoing curatorial work has focused on capturing all known display histories for the textile objects in the Foundation’s electronic object database. These records have been useful in understanding current condition status and inferring light sensitivities of individual objects. Recording cumulative display durations, coupled with spectrophotometer data, will factor into the collaborative and ongoing discussions about how to care for and interpret the collection.

Conclusion The conservation team is responsible for collecting light exposure data, monitoring the changes that take place in the objects, and communicating such information to the broader curatorial and exhibition teams. At present, this information provides an objective understanding of the impact that current display practices are having on the collection. It is clear that notable colour shifts are occurring in objects under current display practices, and it is hoped that this information will eventually lead to shorter exhibition durations or more frequent rotations. Curatorial and exhibition staff support these changes, but the finite resource of staff time makes this unachievable at present. As an organization, we accept that displaying our objects incurs some level of change with each exhibition. Acceptable levels of change must be determined collaboratively on a case-by-case basis, and the factors that influence these decisions should be documented. The goal is not to prevent objects from being displayed, but to do so in a way that best serves the mission of the Foundation and makes the best use of the collection. Small levels of change in an object are considered acceptable if that object will be seen by large numbers of Foundation visitors. This enriches the visitor 459

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experience by helping to draw connections between the historic trades and interpreted spaces in the Historic Area, and the period artefacts on display in the museum. CWF is actively working to grow its collection of historic objects, and careful thought is given to the interpretive value of each new acquisition. Most objects are collected specifically to be displayed, and it is understood that exhibiting light-sensitive collections will result in irreversible changes to the objects under our stewardship. Collecting and interpreting spectrophotometer data and employing microfade testing to better guide exhibition decisions will enable stewards of the collections – conservators, curators, and interpretive staff – to make fully informed decisions about how the objects in our care are used and the impact our decisions will have on the values of these objects for future scholars and viewers.

Acknowledgements The author is very grateful to the following individuals who shared their vast institutional knowledge and thoughts on display practices and the interpretive use of the collection, those throughout the Foundation’s history who have dedicated time and energy to advocating for the collections, collecting information, monitoring changes, and streamlining protocols, and who provided valuable feedback on this manuscript: Patricia Silence, Gretchen Guidess, Sara Ludueña, Colleen Kennedy, Neal Hurst, Kim Ivey, Linda Baumgarten, Mark Hutter, Frances Burroughs, and Pamela Young.

References Ashley-Smith, J., Derbyshire, A. & Pretzel, B. (2002). The continuing development of a practical lighting policy for works of art on paper and other object types at the Victoria and Albert Museum. In R. Vontobel (Ed.), Preprints, ICOM-CC, 2002, Rio de Janeiro (pp. 3–8). Paris: ICOM-CC. Beltran, V.L., Pesme, C., Freeman, S.K. & Benson, M. (2021). Microfading tester: light sensitivity assessment and role in lighting policy. Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Trust. Berns, R.S., Taplin, L.A., Imai, F.H., Day, E.A. & Day, D.C. (2005). A comparison of small-aperture and image-based spectrophotometry of paintings. Studies in Conservation, 50(4), 253–266. Brommelle, N. (1955). Colour and conservation. Studies in Conservation, 2(2), 76–86. Bullock, L. (1978). Reflectance spectrophotometry for measurement of colour change. National Gallery Technical Bulletin, 2, 28–55. Edison, M.P. (2002). Color and long-term color retention in composite patching systems for stone and masonry. APT Bulletin: The Journal of Preservation Technology, 33(2/3), 23–32. Ford, B.L. (1992). Monitoring colour change in textiles on display. Studies in Conservation, 37(1), 1–11. Johnston-Feller, R. (2001). Color science in the examination of museum objects: nondestructive techniques. Los Angeles: GCI. Michalski, S. (2011). Agent of deterioration: light, ultraviolet and infrared. Ottawa: CCI. Available from: https://www.canada.ca/en/conservation-institute/services/agents-deterioration/light.html. Pearlstein, E. & Keene, L. (2010). Evaluating color and fading of red-shafted flicker (colaptes auratus cafer) feathers: technical and cultural considerations. Studies in Conservation, 55(2), 81–94. Saunders, D. (2020). Museum lighting: a guide for conservators and curators. Los Angeles: GCI. Saunders, D., Chahine, H. & Cupitt, J. (1996). Long-term colour change measurement: some results after twenty years. National Gallery Technical Bulletin, 17, 81–90. Thompson, A. & Embree, A. (2007). Colorfastness to light of decorative Japanese book cloths. JAIC, 46(1), 67–73. Wilhelm, H. (1981). Monitoring the fading and staining of color photographic prints. JAIC, 21(1), 49–64.

Note * Published in 2024.

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6.5 MATERIAL EVIDENCE* Assessing risk in the collection of the Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology Ann Coppinger

Introduction The Museum at the Fashion Institute of Technology (MFIT) is a mid-sized, internationally recognized fashion museum located in New York City. It is dedicated solely to the art and research of high-fashion objects as demonstrated by the comprehensiveness of its collections and groundbreaking exhibitions. The museum is under the umbrella of the Fashion Institute of Technology, a public community college that is part of the State University of New York system. The museum’s collection is comprised of approximately 50,000 objects of fashionable costume, accessories, and textiles dating from the eighteenth century to the present. An essential component of the museum’s mission is to educate FIT’s students, researchers, and the general public on the unique cultural history of past and present fashionable clothing and accessories. The museum’s conservation department is staffed by three conservators who are tasked with an ambitious exhibition schedule and with caring for the collection. The exhibition schedule includes two semi-annual shows in the Fashion and Textile History Gallery and another two fashion exhibitions in the museum’s Special Exhibitions Gallery. In advance of the museum’s 2017 exhibition Force of Nature, the conservators assessed the curator’s checklist of fashion objects inspired by nature. The selection included ensembles and headwear trimmed with taxidermy birds, feathers, and artificial flowers. These objects were handled with nitrile gloves due to concerns about arsenic preservatives assumed to have been used on the taxidermy specimens. Concurrently, the author was reading Alison Matthews David’s 2015 publication, Fashion Victims: The Dangers of Dress Past and Present. The book describes the hazardous chemicals and workplace practices used in the manufacture of fashion objects and highlights the resultant chronic illness experienced by their makers. Unfortunately, industrialists were slow to recognize the importance of the health and wellbeing of their workers yet were keen to embrace the financial gains of the nineteenth-century rise in consumerism (Matthews David, 2015). An 1870s ivory silk faille gown was selected for the upcoming exhibition. The dress is trimmed with green foliage that seemed suspiciously like objects Matthews David had described in her chapter on arsenical greens,

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green hues formulated with copper and arsenic compounds. The gown would require a lengthy stitched stabilization treatment, so there was concern about handling the trim. Since MFIT does not have a scientific department, a sample of the trim was sent to conservation scientist colleagues at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, who determined that the leaf contained trace amounts of arsenic and lead. This information led to a more thorough consideration of the objects that comprise the museum’s collection. Although a good portion of the collection dates to the twentieth century, there are many nineteenth-century objects in the collection similar to those highlighted in Matthews David’s book. This publication brought increased attention amongst fashion conservators to issues that had been more thoroughly documented in natural history collections (Odegaard & Sadongei, 2005). The museum was now faced with the challenge of safely handling and sharing their collections, some of which may contain hazardous materials.

Research and review of museum records A search of the museum’s records revealed no documentation of the use of pesticides on the collection. Although no documentation was found, it wasn’t assumed that pesticides had not been applied to collection objects. The museum records would not account for any pest prevention measures that may have been carried out prior to objects entering the collection. Research revealed that the methods by which fashion objects were manufactured and the dyes or mordants used to colour these objects could be at issue. Early manufacturing processes of fashion items were investigated. Several problematic chemical-laden procedures were identified as being used in the manufacture of consumer fashion goods. They were the formulations of early mineral pigments and dyestuffs (Gardiner et al., 2000; Hacke, 2008), a mercury-based ‘carroting’ process used in felt hat making (Martin & Kite, 2003), and arsenic-based taxidermy preservation practices (Casbon, 2015).

Grant application for a collection survey The increasing awareness of inherent hazardous materials in fashion objects provided an incentive for the museum to strengthen its understanding of potential issues within its own collection. The museum lacks the instrumentation and analytical expertise of a conservation science department found in many larger, multidisciplinary museums. Faced with these concerns, the museum applied for a grant to begin the analysis of the collection. The goals of the grant project included: • Gain a better understanding of toxicity issues in the museum’s collection. • Develop protocols for identifying and addressing objects that may be contaminated with hazardous materials. • Produce a report and new handling procedures, as well as information for dissemination to museum staff and the greater collections care community. In 2019 the museum was awarded an Institute of Museum and Library Services grant1 under the Museums for America/Collections Stewardship and Public Access programme. This two-year, grant-funded project enabled the museum to conduct a collection survey for the presence of inherent hazardous materials found in fashion objects. The funding included the rental of a portable Bruker® Tracer™ 5i X-ray fluorescence (XRF) spectrometer and the contracted services of Cheryl Podsiki, an experienced objects conservator specializing in objects contaminated with hazardous substances. 462

Material evidence: assessing risk in the collection

Figure 6.5.1 A 1955 woman’s black felt Mme Pauline hat trimmed with a taxidermy bird of paradise (Accession # 77.146.2). The presence of mercury and chromium was detected on the felt, and arsenic was detected on the taxidermy bird. © The Museum at FIT.

Object selection The next step was to identify a group of objects to be tested. The museum’s collections database, The Museum System (TMS), was searched to identify potentially problematic objects using search terms such as ‘green’, ‘feather’, and ‘fur’ that would have been cited in an object’s description. The funding allowed for a total of 165 suspect objects to be tested. The objects selected included 37 costume pieces (22.5%), 89 men’s and women’s hats (53.9%), and 39 other accessories including fans, handbags, parasols, fur muffs, stockings, boots, and shoes (23.6%). The objects dated from 1740 to 1970. A large selection of hats was chosen because they were catalogued as made from either fur or felt. Many of the women’s hats were heavily embellished with brilliant feathers and taxidermy birds (Figure 6.5.1). All the selected objects were thought to contain problematic materials that could be verified by XRF testing.

Testing methodology and protocols Each object required a low-resolution photograph that would be used to map each site on the object where XRF readings were taken. Either an existing photograph was used, or a new photograph was taken. Object fact sheets were created that included a large image of the object, accession number, and a brief description. These were printed in black and white to enable the contract conservator to accurately map each object’s test site, as well as annotate material types found at that test site. 463

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The testing phase was delayed due to the COVID-19 pandemic. During this time, safety protocols were established and the safe handling of XRF equipment and objects was discussed over lengthy phone conversations with the contract conservator. The XRF spectrometer performs nondestructive elemental analysis and can detect the presence of problematic heavy metals in a substrate as well as other inorganic elements. The results of XRF analysis that are conducted on organic mixed-media substrates are generally qualitative. An element’s presence can be detected, but not the quantity or concentration of that element. Although it is possible to develop methods in which to determine concentrations, these procedures were not used in this study. The test result is specific only to the site that is tested, and it cannot be assumed that if an element is not present at a site that the entire object is free of that element. The instrument used to conduct the museum’s survey was the Bruker® Tracer™ 5i handheld analyser. The instrument generates a high energy beam, which is aimed at a specific site on the object. This will excite the object’s atoms and the resulting X-ray fluorescence is measured. The instrument is connected to the user’s computer which uses Bruker’s proprietary ARTAX™ software for analysis. The ARTAX™ software reads the resulting data and produces a spectrum that is compared to a reference spectrum in order to identify specific elements. A team of two people tested each object. One person handled and positioned the object, and then held the analyser close to the object’s surface. The other person operated the laptop, identified corresponding elemental peaks, and documented each reading site on the object’s fact sheet (Figure 6.5.2).

Figure 6.5.2 Alison Casteñada and Cheryl Podsiki discuss the testing of a woman’s 1939 hat with a fabricated feather bird attachment (Accession # 94.51.1). Mercury was detected on the felt and the feathers. Image by Ann Coppinger.

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All site readings were recorded on a daily XRF log sheet. The log listed every reading with corresponding instrument settings, material notations, and cursory elemental results. This proved critical during the interpretation phase as a minimum of three sites were tested per object, resulting in a total of 655 test sites. Prior to the start of the survey, several hours were spent calibrating the instrument in order to ensure accurate results. A Bruker® representative was available during the testing phase to aid with any technical issues. A woman’s green felt hat from 1959 was tested with different instrument settings to determine which set of parameters would yield the most accurate results. The rationale for choosing a felt hat to calibrate the equipment was that many hats had been selected for the survey. The following settings on the analyser were used for all the testing: Voltage (kV): 50; Current (μA): 20; Filter: #3: Cu 75μm-Ti 25μm-Al 200μm; No Vacuum; and Acquisition time: 60 seconds. The acquisition time was increased to 120 seconds to accommodate less dense substrates such as feathers or lightweight fabrics (Podsiki, 2022). Due to the thin nature of textile objects, object testing was conducted by placing the object on top of a polyethylene-covered, 152.4mm high × 1016mm long archival box so that the XRF instrument would not pick up any errant readings from the wood and cork surface of the tabletop. Individual substrates on the object were isolated by inserting small pieces of 6.35mm thick Ethafoam™ sheets, as needed. The lab tables were covered with polyethylene sheeting, and the front aperture of the instrument was covered with plastic food wrap to prevent any possible cross-contamination. It was decided that, when testing two-piece women’s costume ensembles, only the bodices would be tested. Nineteenth-century skirts are large and would require a lot of handling. The coordinating bodices are usually made from the same fabric as the skirt but are heavily embellished with other materials that would need to be tested. Object testing was conducted in the conservation lab over the course of four weeks from mid October to November of 2021. Lab coats and nitrile gloves were used while handling all the objects. Nitrile gloves were changed frequently and disposed of in the lab’s hazardous waste bin. The use of full facial coverings was observed due to FIT’s COVID-19 protocols. The museum’s conservators handled each object and coordinated the movement of objects from storage to the lab. After testing, any object that lacked condition information was given a report in the museum’s database before being returned to storage. Approximately ten objects were tested per day, with the number of sample sites on each object ranging from three to eight. The number of test sites depended on the fabrication of the object, the variety of materials that the object was composed of, and the number of layers that comprised each object. In the initial project planning phase, it was decided that an experienced conservator familiar with performing this type of collection survey would be critical to the success of the project. An experienced practitioner was needed to calibrate and operate the XRF analyser as well as compile and interpret the data results. Podsiki generously shared her extensive knowledge of material science and the XRF testing process with the museum’s conservators and thoroughly explained the parameters and implications of the resultant generated spectrums. Consequently, the museum’s conservators now feel confident in their abilities to conduct future testing using XRF.

Data compilation and analysis After the testing phase, Podsiki compiled and analysed the data gathered from the XRF survey offsite. This in-depth analysis took approximately six months to complete. Characteristic peaks for each element detected on each of the sampled test sites were identified and interpreted. Images of the spectrum and interpreted results were included in an individual mapping document for all the 465

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tested objects. Each mapping document included an annotated digital image of the object denoting the area of the test site, a description of the object, the instrument settings, operator and handler identification, specific notes concerning the testing process, and a labelled spectrum per sample. The test sites were numbered and annotated on each image with a corresponding spectrum from that site. The final PDF reports were sent electronically and reviewed by the conservation department. The object reports were then linked in the museum’s database. Podsiki’s final summary report (Table 6.5.1) included observations on what she denoted as elements of possible concern. Some elements include a range for number of objects since the data analysis of elemental peaks was not always conclusive. According to the final report, elements of concern were found in approximately 142 objects, or 86% of the objects tested. They are probably present due to either an object’s manufacturing process or component parts that are composed of either pigments, glass beads, or metallic threads or adornments. Approximately 23 objects, or 14%, may have been Table 6.5.1  Summary report of the XRF elemental analysis conducted on 165 objects. Element Lead (Pb)

Number of objects

Percent of total Likely sources of the element objects tested

155

94%

62

38%

Tin (Sn)

58–59

35%

Mercury (Hg)

50–53

31%

Arsenic (As)

39–44

26%

Bromine (Br)

33–40

23%

Chromium (Cr)

Antimony (Sb)

14

9%

Barium (Ba)

14

9%

Cadmium (Cd)

1