A Short Book Report

This week my post will be short and sweet. I want to share my thoughts about a book I am currently reading entitled Dry Storeroom No. 1, The Secret Life of the Natural History Museum by Richard Fortey.

It tells an engaging behind-the-scenes story of the Natural History Museum in London, England. Fortey recounts his own personal encounters and adventures at the museum. The reader discovers things along with Richard as he reminisces his early explorations and discoveries in the hidden areas of the museum, and his initial and fascinating discovery of a miscellaneous storeroom; dry storeroom number 1. He spends a lot of time explaining the study of natural history and the classification systems used for specimens of the natural world, but he combines his technical explanations with personable whisticisms and humor that keeps the reader engaged. All information provided is very important to understanding the storage methods and organizational systems used in natural history museums. I highly recommend this book for any one interested in collections management, museums, and natural history. I am enjoying this book very much and will provide a more thorough review once I have completed it.

This week I am in Chicago and will share accounts of my adventures to local institutions and museums in my post for next week. 

My Favorite Pairs: John Stezaker at the Kemper

I remember making collages in my third grade art class. Taking bits and pieces from magazines and juxtaposing pictures with varying contours of construction paper and covering all with a varnish of glitter. Even my most thoughtful works seemed fragmented and haphazard and I have carried this attitude of collage ever since. I doubted that collage could ever be termed an 'elegant' art form. Even Picasso's Bottle of Suze (see previous post Bottle of Suze Anyone?) does not seem fluid or lovely to me, though I find the subject matter and materials fascinating. I suppose I could only see collage as a collection of materials meant to be studied in separate parts with the composition as a whole being a complicated and sloppy secondary form. In short, collage had no aesthetic appeal for me... until now.

John Stezaker is an exhibition that surveys approximately the last forty years of this English artist's work and is the exhibition that altered my perception of collage. Before the show officially opened I had a chance to view these artworks as they were hanging in storage. As my supervisor slowly pulled out the rack of pictures I saw my first dozen of the close to ninety artworks in the show and was immediately charmed. Stezaker's works are seemingly effortless compositions of two or three images pooled together to form a single, surreal picture with a natural flow running across and connecting its separate parts. In other words, they are 'elegant' collages.

John Stezaker creates his collages using found images, often pictures and postcards he has purchased from antique shops or garage sales. He then cuts, trims, slices, and overlays images in order to create a new composition. Though his found images often consist of very different subjects and scenes he combines them in such a way that there is a seemingly natural connection from one image to the other. In this way he creates a surreal picture that our eyes and brain process as one continuous image. The images are simultaneously both beautiful and bizarre. Stezaker has stated he likes to make the final artworks as ambiguous as possible so interpretation is left up to the viewer.

I would now like to discuss my two favorite pieces from the exhibition, or should I say my two favorite pairs? The collages are entitled Pair III and Pair IV, and are a part of the artist's Masks series. Both of these artworks consist of two parts: a movie still photograph and a scenic postcard. Both collages also utilize the same movie still with different postcards located in the same position over the couples' faces. In Pair III the tops of the two cliffs that flank the stream line up seamlessly with the round curves of the figures' heads. It is the same with Pair IV, with not only the cliff faces lining up but also the gently swirling curls along the bottom of the woman's hair lining up perfectly with a rock outcrop on the cliff.

I interpret these pieces as the evolution of a deteriorating relationship that the couple has somehow managed to hide from their closest friends, but cannot hide for much longer. I see this because I imagine the couple underneath the postcards passionately kissing. While they kiss for their viewers, apparently very close and comfortable, the postcards show that there is actually a rift between them. The water is gradually widening this gap with a consistent, steady flow that wares away at the stone faces of the cliffs. The couples' actual faces are stone themselves, a frozen facade to hide their true feelings. Pair III shows the water flow when it was just a stream and Pair IV shows it later when the rift has widened into a river. There are some people on the bridge overlooking the water, representing those who have observed the separation and can see the relationship for what it truly is; the secret is out. What started out as two separate images, a young couple locked in passionate embrace and a picturesque postcard, with two different meanings, true love and the beauty of nature, ends in a combination that tells the sad story of a weakening relationship.

So simple, so beautiful, so elegant. John Stezaker has shown me that collage is not a clumsy art form and has the potential to emanate a harmonious and beautiful image. I will continue to enjoy his works as I patrol the exhibition gallery until they are taken down in April. It's one of the parts of the job I love the most.

What do you think of John Stezaker's collages? Do you have a favorite collage artist? What are your feelings about the collage as art?

a woman like that & Some Thoughts on Copyright

Today I attended the presentation of a documentary film about Artemisia Gentileschi, a 17th-century female artist and painter. The 93 minute film, entitled a woman like that, combines filmmaker Ellen Weissbrod's own coming of middle age story with her quest to learn more about this evocative artist. You can read more about it on the film's website here. The presentation and discussion of the film was promoted by the Saint Louis Art Museum and presented in the Brown Auditorium at Washington University in St. Louis. After the film viewing, Dr. Judith Mann, Curator of European Art to 1800 at the Saint Louis Art Museum (and a friend of mine), gave a short presentation about a recently discovered cache of Artemisia letters. The whole experience was very enlightening and not only presented new and interesting facts about Artemisia, but also struck on some prevalent museum issues.

The most significant issue discussed, which dominates the opening of the film, concerns the copyright restrictions of artworks in museums. The film begins back in 2002 with a dismayed Ellen talking into her camera about how she had just received an email from the Saint Louis Art Museum denying her permission to film the exhibition Orazio and Artemisia Gentileschi: Father and Daughter Painters in Baroque Italy. Not allowing this upset to prevent her from pursuing her goals, Ms. Weissbrod purchased a hidden filming device and drove all the way from New York City to St. Louis. Using her James Bond-esque equipment, which involved a pair of camera-spectacles, she filmed her stroll through the Saint Louis Art Museum's special exhibition gallery and the paintings of Artemisia and Orazio Gentileschi. Her adorably covert operation spurred her on to continue her quest for the woman behind the artist. I really enjoyed and highly recommend her film.

There are clearly no hard feelings on the part of the Saint Louis Art Museum about Ellen's actions or filming techniques. The film is in fact being embraced and promoted by the Art Museum. It was described to me by my friend as "a very personal look at Artemisia, with humor and some real insights," and I was encouraged to attend and bring friends. So why all the red tape when the Ellen initially wanted to film? Dr. Mann explained during a question and answer session that the Saint Louis Art Museum was unable to acquire permission from all the loaning museums to film the artworks. When they could not guarantee the permission of all the loaners they had to tell Ellen she could not film. After this explanation, Ellen also made it a point to state how great and supportive staff at the museum have been in helping her complete this project. The truth is many museums have to be very mindful of copyright when they are borrowing artworks from other institutions. There is a really great post about this type of issue on the blog Musematic entitled Museums Are Not the Enemy.

The copyright of museum images is a topic of growing concern for museums all over the world. In an age when information can be shared instantly in a digital format on the world wide web, art institutions are encountering new challenges and issues concerning the ownership of the images of their artworks. There is a very great article about this in the American Association of Museum's Museum Magazine entitled "Copyright Clearance for Online Images: A Lesson Learned." This is a different aspect of the copyright debate, but it still relates to the issues Ellen Weissbrod encountered on her journey.

Another related issue is when museums charge publications for the right to print images of their artworks, thus gaining a profit from their copyrighted images. There are some that disapprove of this. They ask why do museums "sell" images of artworks that they hold in trust for the general public? If the artworks are already rightfully ours to be shared, then why are the images not also shared? I have heard that museums will often use their copyrighted images in order to help raise funds to care for the collections. This seems fair; if copyright enables institutions to secure additional dollars to care for the artworks then maybe it's a small inconvenience the public can pay for the greater good. On the other side of the coin, I have also heard it argued that using staff time and energy in order to deal with photography and image rights issues ends up costing the museum more money than they gain. I really cannot say if it's either-or unless I spend some quality time with the budget reports, which I doubt I can get my hands on. But if so, why all the hard work? Do you have any insight on this debate? If you do, please share.

The copyright of museum images is not the prevailing theme of this film, but it is a significant topic I wanted to spend some time discussing. As far as the documentary is concerned, if you get an opportunity please do watch it. You will learn a lot about Artemisia and have a few laughs along the way. As you watch, spend a little time pondering poor Ellen's plight at the beginning of the film.

Do you think she should have been allowed to film or did the Saint Louis Art Museum make the right ethical choice? Do you find Ellen's actions in any way inappropriate or do you think she crossed a line in her attempt to film the exhibition? What are your experiences with some of the above-mentioned copyright issues?

Let There Be Light... But Not Too Much Please

In relation to last week's post about Picasso's Bottle of Suze (which has been taken back off display), I wanted to talk more about protecting art from light damage. It is a topic that has come up a lot recently at both the Kemper Art Museum and the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts. Now at the Kemper protecting the art from UV damage is solely in the hands of the registrars and the senior staff. At the Pulitzer, on the other hand, I have a much more active role in monitoring the light levels in the building. Every thirty minutes I and other Gallery Assistants use a light reader to measure the amount of natural sunlight that reaches into some of the galleries. These activities peeked my interest and I took it upon myself to learn more about light and light readers, which I shall impart to you now.

The light reader we use at the Pulitzer measures in a unit called a foot-candle. Now my first thought was of several hundred tealight candles illuminating an object, but that didn't seem right. Then I thought of something more like this, but that didn't seem right either. In my mind the light cast by a small flame didn't seem that dangerous, aside from the potential threat of fire. So I did some research and learned that the 'candle' of foot-candle actually stands for candela, which is an international basic unit to measure luminous intensity. All this seemed rather clarifying and impressive until I found out that candela is actually Latin for candle, so I'm right back to where I started. It turns out a regular candle does emit a luminous intensity of about one candela. So does this mean that several hundred tealights could damage an artwork with their luminous intensity? Yes it does, especially at a high concentration or over a long period of exposure.

The 'foot' of foot-candle deals with the size of the area where the light intensity is being measured. This is not simply a foot, though, but is actually a sphere with a one foot radius from its central point. The light reader measurement is based on the central point of the sphere and assumes a uniform light source of one candela at that point. The amount of illumination that would be cast onto the inside surface of the sphere from the center is the the light reading.

At the Pulitzer we use this type of light reader. In order to operate it we hit the 'Vis' button, which measures the visible light. It also measures UV light and other environmental conditions, such as heat and humidity. It is a very handy and very expensive tool.

If it is determined that the luminous intensity in a gallery is too high there are a number of ways to protect the artworks or objects. If the source of most of the light is sunlight there are UV films and window covers that can stop 98% of ultraviolet radiation from ever entering the building. If the light source is electric there are similar products and sleeves for light bulbs. If it is a matter of visible light there are a number of simple ways to lower it, such as curtains, screens, or sometimes just covering the individual object. Since light damage is in fact inevitable, the best thing that can be done for objects is to keep them stored in dark locations and to only put them on display for short periods of time, like the Kemper did with Picasso's collage. You can read more about light damage and UV prevention here.

In my research I was also surprised to learn that UV light doesn't always have a negative effect on how people view art. There are a number of things that can be learned about a painting by intentionally shining ultraviolet light on it. Because it is a spectrum invisible to the human eye it can make things visible that we normally wouldn't see. Here is a great website where you can observe the before and after effects yourself.

What do you do at your museum in order to prevent the damaging effects of light? Have you ever used UV light to learn more about a painting or an object?

Bottle of Suze Anyone?

For a limited time a very precious and rarely displayed artwork is hanging in the permanent collection gallery of the Kemper Art Museum at WASHU (read more about it here). Pablo Picasso's Bottle of Suze is one of the earliest and most famous of the celebrated cubist's collages (learn more about another Picasso collage and his materials here). It combines the long-standing artists' tradition of still life with the early 20th century innovation of collage as well as the political views and satirical commentary of its creator. I have witnessed multiple classes of art students come view and discuss this artwork and every time there is new interpretation and insight. I have also discussed the piece with several visitors and each time I am amazed at the unique interpretations different individuals come up with. It is indeed a most compelling artwork.

It is also an exceptionally fragile artwork. Bottle of Suze displays the typical discoloration and staining of aging paper, and for this reason the museum is very anxious to preserve it and displays it as little as possible.

The preservation problems of this piece are three-fold. The collage's materials, which include newspaper, wallpaper, and construction paper, are incredibly self-damaging. Newspaper deteriorates rapidly due to the moisture content and highly acidic nature of the paper it's printed on. Perhaps even more fragile is the construction paper, or pulp paper, which eventually dries out and becomes so brittle the slightest touch might shatter it. The adhesives that Picasso used to bind all these different papers together may also contribute to their deterioration. It is the 'colle' of the collage, the glue that holds it all together can also be a big factor in its falling apart. Since glues and resins can also be highly acidic this likewise could have contributed to the discoloration of the piece. In addition to both these issues, all the materials of the collage are highly sensitive to light, which is why it is kept in storage the vast majority of the time.

Now the Kemper deals with the light-exposure issue as well as it can. I have personally observed the very careful positioning of the gallery lights so none shine directly on the artwork. All of the Gallery Attendants are given strict instructions to leave the lights in the gallery off till the last possible moment, to reduce the amount of exposure. I have also seen how the piece is covered when the museum is closed. Everything that can be done is done to reduce UV damage.

But what about the self-deterioration of the materials? The Library of Congress has many recommendations for preserving newspaper, but these methods really only apply to regular, printed papers. Such suggestions can successfully serve the needs of a library or an archive, but none could plausibly be applied to this artwork. And how does one preserve wallpaper or construction paper? What can be done to prevent the acids from eventually destroying the whole work? Can anything be done? An even more intriguing question: did Picasso intend that anything could be done? There are those who theorize that the artist meant for the piece to deteriorate. Some see it as his challenging us to solve all the collage's mysteries before it is too late while others interpret it as the Picasso's own anti-war and possibly anarchist views about his contemporary world.

Indeed, a most compelling piece. I love it all the more because it makes me think about the art in a variety of contexts: historical, war, leisure, still life, collage, cubism, and conservation. An artwork that can bring up such a variety of issues and insights is certainly incredible. That Picasso sure was on to something.

Does your museum have similar works or conservation issues? How do you handle objects or artworks that deteriorate rapidly? Can you think of any way to prevent Bottle of Suze from deteriorating?

Symposium at the Pulitzer

Last week I was fortunate enough to work a Conservators Symposium at the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts. The current exhibition at the Pulitzer is a compilation of Buddhist art called Reflections of the Buddha and is the result of two years of careful planning and research. It came as no surprise to me that a show which has resulted in some of our highest visitor numbers had also peaked the interest of several experts in the fields of conservation and Buddhist art and history. Like snails to the brow of the meditating Buddha they came, all eager to attain enlightenment and share knowledge. For two days they sat (not under a tree but in folding chairs) and gave presentations on many of the artworks. Each presentation was followed by an exchange questions, answers, and new theories. All attendees commented on having a wonderful time and I believe all left with the enlightenment they were hoping to attain.

The invited participants weren't the only ones to leave more enlightened. I specifically requested to attended the symposium because I knew, based on past symposiums, that a wealth of knowledge could be derived from this event. So yes, I am also one of the snails eager to ascend onto the forehead of the Buddha. I anticipated that this would be a great opportunity to learn more about Buddhist art, which I could then turn around and share with our visitors. Events like these do tend to be very exclusive and unfortunately are not open to the public. This is for a good reason, though. Scholars tend to react better to each others' questions and they challenge one another into new ways of thinking in order to solve problems and answer questions. I view my role in this event as twofold; first I secure the space and safety of the art and our guests, and second I represent the needs and the curiosity of our visitors. In other words, I learn all I can in order to create learning opportunities for others.

And I did learn a lot. I now better understand the construction of the Amitabha Buddha in our Entrance Gallery, how the Korean figures in the Lower Gallery were gilt, what a textile conservator can and cannot do to help preserve the Mandalas in the Cube Gallery, what is typical of a Chinese sculpture from a cave sanctuary, what Indian representations of the Shakyamuni Buddha look like, and more. Symposiums like this are great because they enable experts to gather and learn from each other as well as generate new ideas and scholarship for their fields. They are also great for me because I learn and get paid for it.

I believe that symposiums are an important activity that all museums should try to engage in, but not just for the scholars. I think symposiums are also a great opportunity for staff, such as myself, to learn more and pass it on to the visitor. Since the primary concern of all museums, and all scholars, should be the gathering and sharing of information with the public, then perhaps more symposiums should be open. If not to the public then to the staff which are capable of communicating new ideas to the public.

What do you think? Does your museum have programs like a symposium? If so, what is done to share information from these events with your visitors?

At the London National Gallery

In my museum readings this week I came across an article entitled, "National Gallery assistants escalate their dispute over staffing cuts," on The Guardian newspaper's website. Interestingly enough, published the same day as my blog post about being a Gallery Assistant. This article covers a story about a large group of gallery assistants on strike at the National Gallery in London due to the affects recent cut-backs have had on their hours and workload. The Gallery is trying to establish a new security system where instead of one assistant per gallery there is now one assistant assigned to monitor two galleries.

In this article, the assistants stress the importance of having a suitable number of staff in order to properly monitor each gallery so they can provide sufficient security and customer assistance. They argue that decreasing the number of security personnel increases the likelihood of vandalism and reduces the quality of customer service.

As a gallery attendant at two different institutions, I can wholeheartedly relate and sympathize with their predicament. I also noted that in the article many of the assistants are young professionals with arts degrees, such as myself, who enjoy engaging an audience and are just trying to get more experience in the field. So I can understand the disappointment of getting less hours and less experience with a more cumbersome workload. 

I know I did not focus on security in my earlier post as much as I did audience engagement and shoes, but it is a very important subject. It is my top priority at work; so if I am in a discussion with one visitor and I see another carrying out a potentially harmful activity (either to the art or to a patron), I politely as possible dismiss myself from the conversation and see to the security risk. Engagement and customer service make it fun, but security is the business. I have worked regular days and special events where we were understaffed and I can assure you, it is very taxing. Such days provide fewer opportunities to talk with visitors; when you're stressed out and you look stressed out guests don't want to approach you, and to be honest, you don't feel like approaching guests.

So I have to say, the National Gallery's argument that their new and shorter-staffed plan will provide better security is either a mere pretext on their part in the hope that no one will notice or perhaps they really do not understand the demands of working on the floor. I feel they should just admit that they're trying to save funds by cutting staff, which is the most likely explanation. And as I said, I sympathize with the assistants' plight, I really do, but to be fair a lot of museum staff are getting cut in all departments. With governments reducing funds to all museums, administrators have to find ways to keep the budgets afloat and staff cuts are a big part of that. If the number of working assistants per day absolutely has to be cut, one possible solution is to create a volunteer docent program for students (from secondary to the university level) so they can help assistants monitor the galleries while also gaining experience themselves. At least this will reduce the stress on the assistants.   

What are your thoughts on this situation? Do you have any suggestions or have you faced similar issues at your own museum?