Friday, December 2, 2016

When Was the Last Time You Folded a Map?

Our graduate intern, Emilie Duncan, has taken on the task of wrangling a "map stash" in our Special Collections Library.  The stash had accumulated over the years, and consisted of many, many maps and broadsides that were too fragile or damaged to be sent to the flat file drawers with the rest of the collection.

Thanks to all sorts of progress with technology we have GPS in our phones or car and these devices can talk us through the miles to our destination.  But way back when, people relied on printed maps to get them from point A to point B.  Travel maps had to be comprehensive enough so that travelers had the information they needed, but also small and light enough to be convenient to carry.  Travel maps might come with a pamphlet (like this one) explaining features along the way or be just a single sheet of paper.  In either case, the folding and re-folding of a map can take a significant toll, causing tears and necessitating conservation intervention before a map can be sent back to its home in the stacks.

This map and pamphlet, Lloyd's Official Map of the State of Virginia was published in 1872, although the map itself was first published in 1861.  We have two other copies of this map without the pamphlet, so in consultation with the curator of Virginiana, we decided to keep the map with the pamphlet and work on getting the map back into a condition where it could be easily folded.

A standard approach is to begin with overall humidification and flattening of a document so that the tears can be mended flat.  The overall treatment did result in a lot of progress for this map, but there were still some stubborn creases that required additional humidification and flattening.
For local treatment, we use pieces of Gortex, layered with damp blotter to provide just enough humidification to soften paper in the area around the crease and then drying under weights so that everything dries flat.

Best practice is to start in the middle where the creases are often most stubborn and then work out toward the edges.  Once the piece is flat, you can re-assess the tears and start lining up the roads, rivers and mountains that are out of kilter.

It can be tremendously satisfying to see something that was torn and wrinkled become smooth and legible.  That said, we are now facing the task of re-folding the map to make it fit the format of the pamphlet that it was published with. It may seem counter-intuitive, but we do want the next reader who uses the
pamphlet to be able to use it as the publisher intended, although we are considering putting some fe-folding directions in the housing for those who have never used a paper map.

Friday, September 23, 2016

Introducing Emilie

Hello! My name is Emilie Duncan, and I am the new graduate book conservation intern in Eliza’s lab at UVa. I am a third year fellow in the Winterthur/University of Delaware Program in ArtConservation, and as such, will be completing a yearlong internship here. Designed as a practical, hands-on follow up to my first two years, the internship will involve treatment of both special collections and circulating library books and archival documents, participation in general preservation activities such as exhibit prep and pest management, and generally getting my feet wet with book conservation in the “real world.”

At the close of my third week here, I already have lined up some exciting and fascinating projects. Three weeks spent “lining up” projects? You might think I have not been using my time wisely, but there is a lot that goes into a conservation treatment before the actual treatment even begins.

                The first step is careful examination and consideration of the object at hand, including its materials, construction methods, and current condition problems. All of this information is necessary to plan out a treatment that will effectively and safely stabilize its condition and make it accessible to researchers. For example, in my first week, I was presented with a large box of maps and broadsides that had been stashed away by a former stacks manager because they were in need of some sort of treatment before being housed in the library stacks. One of the details that I recorded during my examination was media type and print process. Knowing what materials are present can help determine what treatment methods are possible. The oil- and pigment-based lithographic printing ink used on the bulk of the objects is not sensitive to water-based treatments, such as bathing. However, the poor-quality iron gall ink inscription at the bottom of one of the broadsides may include added ingredients that could wash away during aqueous treatment, so thorough testing will need to be carried out in order to ensure that the treatment does not alter the document in a negative way.

Another important factor to consider before proposing a treatment is the historical and material context of the object. This information can help to understand construction and condition aspects of the object as it exists today, as well as aid in determining specific goals of a treatment. A good example is another one of my upcoming projects, an early copy of Francis Bacon’s Sylva Sylvarum (an exhaustive natural history record published shortly after his death in 1626). I say “early copy” because the book is lacking the title page (and the front board, and most of its spine… but that is less relevant at this point) which contains the date of publication. It would be fairly easy to just look up the publication date of the book, but that is complicated by the fact that the book was republished in almost 20 editions in the 17th century alone, and without the title page it can be tricky to determine which edition I am looking at. However, in comparing the text with other copies of other editions in the special collections, and with images of other editions available online, I began to parse out the small differences that set the various books apart. During the hand press period, individual pieces of metal type were arranged by hand to print each sheet of text. Even if the same type was used and arranged the same way for different editions, small differences can be seen.See the picture below with the 1626 edition on the left and the 1631 on the right.
The red arrow points to the switched orientation of the type used in the border. Note the different catchwords in the yellow boxes.

Using this method, I was able to determine that the book was either a first edition (1626) or a reissue of the first edition (1627). (“Reissue” meaning the book was put on sale again without re-setting the type or making changes to the text – which could constitute a new “edition.”) The only difference between the 1626 version and the 1627 version is the addition of a fancy, engraved title page, in addition to the original, plain, letterpress title page (which still reads 1626). The reason for these variations, or any clues to which year the copy in the Small Special Collections was published, is still eluding me.  Further research and a possible trip up to the Folger to look at some other 1626/7 copies will hopefully shed some light on this soon. I’ll keep you posted!

All the condition and contextual information, along with a step-by-step proposal based on what I see when I look closely at each object, is recorded systematically in an assessment/treatment proposal document. This document serves both as a guide for the conservator during treatment and as a reference point for discussion with the curator, who will determine if the proposed treatment aligns with the research goals for the object.

Next, the object is photographed to record its condition and unique features before treatment. Usually, this is done on a copy stand for books and documents. However, many of the maps and broadsides I will be treating were too big, so they were done on the Digitization Production Group’s Cruse scanner. The images collected by the flatbed scanner are so high-quality that each scan takes about 10 minutes to complete!

After all this, the objects are finally ready to treat, and I hope to dive in on that step starting next week. 

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

To our friend, Maurice

For the past couple months, we had a live-in visitor at the Book Conservation lab.  He appeared unexpectedly one day as Eliza was preparing some leather for a label.  He didn’t say much (or do much, really) but he did seem keenly interested in eating. We called him Maurice.  Trying to be good hosts, we gave him a jar to live in and some scraps of leather to munch on, and even praised him when he shed his skin as he progressed through his larval state.

Allow me to introduce Maurice the furniture carpet beetle...

Larva and adult furniture carpet beetles, Anthrenus flavipes.
Photo by Dong-Hwan Choe.
 Yes, I know it is strange that the Lab played host to a well-known pest—one that is named for its predilection for eating antiques.   Perhaps, if you are squeamish about insects, you are wondering why we didn’t dispose of him immediately upon finding him.  But Maurice is a good reminder of something every conservator has to consider at some point in their career—how to handle insects that can potentially cause extensive damage to the organic material of our cultural heritage? 
Thankfully, those who have come before us have developed a good system for handling visitors like Maurice: Integrated Pest Management, also known as IPM.

IPM is a method used by museums and libraries across the country in order to aid in the control and prevention of pest-related damage in paper-based collections.  The reason that this is so important is that insects are often attracted to adhesives and starches found in the components of libraries and archives, and will occasionally attack the paper itself.  This leads to the loss of structural components, and in some cases, to extensive damage to precious information

insect damage, the Carter Library, Photo by Quinn Ferris
The images to the right and below, illustrate the level of damage that can be caused by the occasional pest.  In the case of these volumes, before UVa acquired them, they lived in a plantation manor where they were susceptible to all manner of insect attack.  In the image on the right, we can see that insects devoured all of the paper off of the spines (paper that was full of appealing adhesive, not doubt) but left the title labels which were, for whatever reason, clearly not as delicious. 

insect damage, the Carter Library; photo by Quinn Ferris

However, it is obvious that the little critters are not too picky—in the picture on the left, several different types of material, both cloth and paper, have been damaged by pest activity.  Thankfully the closely monitored and controlled environment of the stacks at the Small Special Collection ensures that these books will not suffer further degradation.
A main facet of IPM is to prevent most effectively without causing harm to the collections themselves or their stewards—therefore no pesticides are used.  IPM has five main components in its implementation: Inspection and Monitoring, Identification of Pests, Climate and Habitat Modification and Treatment and Prevention.

Because Maurice was the only of his kind found in the lab, we concluded that he was probably accidentally brought in as a tiny larva attached to a human, or he rolled in through the door one day (furniture carpet beetles do live "in the wild"), hard to say really but he was not symptomatic of an overall pest infestation at UVa.  Thank Goodness!  But having Maurice on hand allowed us to identify him—the most important step in determining whether a pest is a serious risk and how to manage it— and monitor him for a few weeks just to see what would happen if he had a steady snacking supply.

So, what did happen?  Not much.  Maurice followed the football season and rooted passionately for the Hoos.  Eventually, he did metamorphose out of his exoskeleton into a slightly larger and hairier version of himself.  But, lacking a community of other furniture carpet beetles, or water, he mostly just hung out and monitored the goings on in the lab until we found him legs up one morning in his jar.

For more information on Integrated Pest Management in Libraries and Museums, you can browse the following links:

-Quinn Morgan Ferris

Friday, November 7, 2014

Effect of humidity fluctuation on a rare book

Which is why conservators, collection managers, etc. are so adamant about environmental control in collections storage and exhibit spaces.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Historic Wallpaper

Hello!  My name is Quinn Morgan Ferris, and I am UVa’s new book conservation intern!  Recently relocated from New York City (via Alaska), I’m a fourth year student at New York University’s Institute of Fine Arts Conservation Center, finishing my M.A. in Library and Archives Conservation here in Charlottesville.  I will make periodic “guest appearances” when Eliza sends interesting projects my way at the bench…

As the chill of autumn truly descends on Grounds and I begin only my fourth week of work, I have already encountered some fascinating assignments. 

One of particular relevance to the hidden decorative arts history of UVa arrived in the lab in a stack of file folders—cut samples of historic wallpaper taken off the walls from Pavilion I and Morea House.  These samples, fragments of wall paper that had been hidden under layers of paint, were saved during a renovation of the buildings in 1988.  Since that time, they had been all but forgotten until Architectural Conservator, Mark Kutney, brought them into the lab so that something could be done to ensure their preservation and accessibility.  These samples varied in size, color and condition, and clearly had been all but lost to history. 

You may be thinking “Wallpaper is cool, I guess, but I wouldn’t go as far as fascinating.”  But not so fast, my friend!  Wallpaper and its role in material culture have a long and full history which can illuminate much about the people of the past and the prevailing taste of the times. They may also reveal a thing or two about the distinguished faculty members that, with Thomas Jefferson’s guiding vision, gave shape to UVa in the first part of the 19th century.

Wallpaper has often been passed over, possibly because its very purpose is to be the background of a room.  Additionally, it is often overlooked with respect to other decorative arts because of its fragility and ephemerality.  It is often a casualty to fluctuating styles, resulting in a very small number of wallpapers surviving intact in situ.

However, this does not diminish the amount of information that we can garner from the way a room is papered, or how important it is as a decorative feature.  Choices of furniture and drapery would often be made based on the tone set by the papered walls.  Wallpaper can suggest the age, status, or gender of the inhabitants and even the very function of the room it’s in.  Layers of wallpaper on top of one another can tell you something of the changing ownership of a building, or simply the fickle preference of the lady of the house.

Conversely, in the case of our samples, what we know about the history of UVa’s buildings helps to illuminate a bit about the recovered wallpaper.  For example, Pavilion I, which adjoins the Rotunda on the Lawn’s west side, was built in 1822.  While it is unclear exactly when the samples from Pavilion I are from, Kutney explained that it would not be unusual for a professor to decorate and furnish his interiors himself.  If that’s true, then it’s possible that the bottommost layers of wallpaper may have been chosen by Pavilion I’s first occupant, John Patton Emmet.  As the professor of natural history Emmet taught courses in chemistry, comparative anatomy and botany.  Emmet resided in Pavilion I from 1825 to 1833, during which time botany was of particular interest to him—as well as to Thomas Jefferson, who’s letter to Emmet regarding the introduction of botany as a course of study at UVa can be read here.   Emmet’s botanical experiments soon became so prolific that he outgrew the Pavilion’s garden space.  In 1833, he relocated to a nearby University property, which he deemed the “Morea” House—from the Latin morus, meaning mulberry—so named for the trees Emmet grew on the lawn for the cultivation of silkworms. 

Perhaps having the botany professor as the occupant of the two spaces where the wallpaper was recovered is significant to these samples? Perhaps it explains something about the simple palletes of gray and green, or the overwhelming number of floral motifs used throughout?  Yes, it is possible.  However, to venture that far into conjecture may be a little erroneous.  What we can safely infer is that these wallpapers provided the backdrop to Emmet’s daily life, academic pursuits and professorial interactions for the time that he occupied his position at UVa.

The first step in handling the wallpaper fragments was to create a documentation form.  Using this form, we were able to describe the size, location, motif and stratigraphy of the various fragments.  The next step falls to the curators, who will create an accession group, catalog records, finding aids and appropriate housing so that anyone who may be interested in accessing this burgeoning collection need go no further than the library.