Caring For Textiles

Textiles enrich our lives. We preserve, repair, restore & display.

A Day in the Life at the Studio

By 7 Comments

By Annabel Dobbyn
Photograph by Sarah Goolishian

When I tell strangers that I work in a textile conservation studio, I know exactly what will happen. A blank look eclipses their face. The whites of their eyes blow open and then they narrow. They unhinge their jaws and ask: what?

It is a bit thrilling, possessing the ability to entirely befuddle another human being in just a few short words. However, it is the nature of our work to share information, so today I thought I would bring you all along with me for a day in the life of a textile conservation studio.

I arrive at 9 am, feeling incredibly blessed by the DMV traffic gods, and, in even better news, I seem to have beaten my coworker, Kaitlyn, here. It’s not that I don’t adore Kaitlyn; but there is something soul satisfying about being able to choose the morning playlist. A variety of different genres thrum out of our studio speaker. Habibi funk, 70s disco, indie male manipulator, Malian kora, and riot grrrl have all graced our ears. Being first to the computer is often a losing battle, though, as we work from a home-based studio. I hurry up the brick walkway, but I slow down when I hear classical piano. Damn, it is virtually impossible to beat Julia in the mornings.

I put my items down and go to wash my hands before officially entering the studio space. Julia sits at the computer, replying to emails, and she turns to greet me with a warm smile. We chatter for a while, mostly about politics (I know, forbidden workplace topic, but conservation is political, no matter what anyone else tells you). Kaitlyn walks in, and we begin talking about the days agenda of work, and Baby Macenzie of course.

This morning, a client arrives with a World War II flag of wool bunting, flown from his grandfather’s ship at Normandie. Military textiles are common within our line of work, but that doesn’t make it any less exciting. If anything, it comforts a client to know that their object will be in experienced hands. For us, these kinds of objects usually come with stories. Tales of grandfathers on war battered ships, immense bravery, a gunshot hole, and a fight against fascism. This is what makes textiles come alive, especially when their makers are frequently unknown. To know a textile is to love it, and that is the great privilege of our work.

Photograph by Sarah Goolishian

After the client leaves, Kaitlyn begins repairs on a very delicate dress for a local institution and I begin clipping tiny stitches to remove a delicate sampler from an old acidic mount. This is the first step, after which comes documentation front and back, testing of dyes, and surface cleaning.

Julia briefly leaves the studio for an offsite consultation, which could mean going up on a hijacker lift to examine a Medieval tapestry, or survey a collection. We turn on one of our favorite podcasts, Normal Gossip. Sometimes we spring for an educational podcast, such as Articles of Interest, but, if I’m being completely honest, nothing makes me more productive than a riveting gossip story. Hey–the expression stitch and bitch was invented for a reason!

If I have a little non-scheduled time between projects, I might run up some Velcro on twill tape on the machine, because we seem to use a huge amount of this for hanging rugs, tapestries, quilts, and any large strong sturdy textile. The machine purrs as I try to stitch straight lines as fast as I can.

After lunch, Julia and I commence the monumental task of wet cleaning a quilt. We have already tested the dyes in the many fabrics to ensure there will be no bleeding. Testing dyes is a grave process. We know what we would like to do to a textile, but it’s often not up to us. Pray to the textile gods that it cleans beautifully, perhaps offer up your favorite curved needle in sacrifice. The quilt appears solid. We set up the custom frame for a flotation tank in a sloped outdoor courtyard and we start slowly filling the bath.

Photograph by Sarah Goolishian

After the tank is filled, we gently unfurl the quilt and begin patting it into the water. We do the same with our Orvus, a non-ionic detergent. There is something that feels quite spiritual about this, the understanding that my current form mimics all the women who came before me. The woman washing fabrics, I become her. The water runs yellow with acidity, we take a test sample, and Julia has me release one end of our floatation frame. We rinse and rinse and rinse and let the water squelch between our fingers until it is squeaky clean.

Photographs by Sarah Goolishian

We roll the quilt onto a tube and Julia once more tells me of the importance of a good rolling partner. There’s a natural synchronicity between two individuals who are well suited for one another. I can’t always tell why Julia tells me this, but I know everyone has their learning curve. We prepare a sheet-bed in a shady patch in the yard and unwind the quilt, carefully blocking the edges. I pull up a chair and keep my eye out for curious birds and squirrels. Every thirty minutes or so, we carefully turn our baby over and lay her on fresh dry sheets.

Not every day is like this, but when it is I luxuriate in it. The birds twitter softly at a safe distance. I marvel at the work we do, simplicity and complexity running over at the same time. The realization that our field is fairly new in the history of the world and ancient at the same time. A glorified upstairs maid and a well-practiced professional in the same body. With all these contradictions, it really shouldn’t be a surprise that people are confused by what we do.

 

All photos by Caring for Textiles unless otherwise noted

 

Senator Kelly’s Spacesuit

By 7 Comments

By Annabel Dobbyn

The  year is 2016. Beyonce’s Lemonade comes out, the beloved David Bowie passes on, and American politicians are at each other’s throats. Now open twitter, not X, and see that one of the top trending videos is a gorilla. No, not Harambe, the gorilla shot and killed at the Cincinnati zoo. This gorilla is in– is that the International Space Station?

Clip acquired from Euronews. Originally posted by Scott Kelly via Twitter.

In 2016 former astronaut and current Arizona Senator Mark Kelly sent his twin brother, Scott Kelly, a gorilla suit as a care package during Scott’s  year-long stint on the International Space Station. Hijinks commenced almost immediately. From filming educational videos to nearly sending a fellow astronaut into cardiac arrest, the gorilla suit made its orbit before returning to earth. Folded up and placed into an unknown box, waiting.

For certain high ranking government officials, they may have the privilege of requesting loans from the Smithsonian collection or potentially other government organizations, though this is not a guarantee. When Senator Kelly came into office in 2022, he had a very particular vision. We do not know how this conversation played out, but we like to imagine it went something like this.

Welcome Senator Kelly. Your office walls are plain, desks are sturdy, and drawers are flowing with number two pencils and green paper clips.

Thank you, I am excited to serve the people. Though,  the walls are very plain indeed.

We could try asking the Smithsonian. How about a Monet?

Eh. Too pale.

A Picassso?

Not before I’ve had my morning coffee.

A Van Gogh?

Far too ostentatious. Why don’t we just ask NASA for my spacesuit?

Sure?

Senator Kelly’s spacesuit prior to Caring for Textiles treatment.

Although it was a great honor to have the spacesuit on display in the office, there was something lacking. It appeared like a child trying on his father’s tie. The jumpsuit hung limply off of the mannequin form, the 25 lb weight of the helmet forcing the head down. An attempted counterbalance left a 10 lb dumbbell at the back of the form.

Senator Kelly’s spacesuit prior to Caring for Textiles treatment.

This was not the pride and splendor which should accompany an American astronaut. This is where Caring for Textiles was brought in, to give a greater sense of presence to the spacesuit, remove the dumbbell, and oh of course just one small detail: the gorilla mask had to go inside the helmet.

Our first step was to carefully remove the spacesuit from its case and transport it to an area where it could be treated easily. Upon closer examination of the suit we realized an important bit of information, taking a spacesuit on and off is in fact not an intuitive process. We did a lot of preparatory work, such as sewing black fabric weights and constructing 12 custom made padded pillow inserts of particular body shapes. Thankfully, we exist within the age of the internet, and one quick google search (thank you, MythBusters Youtube channel) had us cruising.

Our research revealed it would be very difficult to remove the suit from the mannequin form, especially given that mannequin bodies are not remotely as flexible as human bodies. Our access was extremely limited and we realized we had to operate through the back opening of the suit.  We needed to fill out the torso area so we cut a “fatshirt” along the side seams so we could work it over the form like a bib.

This created the necessary overall bulk required; however, more work was still needed for the chest and shoulders. We inserted smaller padded pillows in the shoulder areas to give him a more commanding posture, and then we filled in the pectoral area with larger padded pillows. Often, the most exciting aspects of conservation work come from what you do not expect to find. Imagine our glee when we opened him up and discovered the gorilla suit was being utilized as internal padding!

To articulate the fingers of the gloves, we cut long thin strips of volara foam, folded them over 2-3 times, and inserted them using the end of a spatula. As always in conservation, we want to ensure our work is reversible, so we left our inserts with long tags for ease of removal in the future. Thanks to the volara, the new fingers are able to be posed as well as supported.

Soon enough we had the spacesuit back on its stand, this time leaning forward against it for greater support, with a brand new accessory.

We then moved it back into its case, placed weights behind the helmet to hold the head up, made final touch ups, and voila! Caring for Textiles has completed its first treatment of a spacesuit.

The curse of the textile conservator is that we most frequently deal with items linked to violence. Flags from battered warships, clothing items of genocide victims, etc. Even a beloved tunic casts a shadow of sorrow in my mind, what circumstances was this person led to to relinquish their favorite clothing item? It truly was a blessing to work on an artifact imbibed with wonder, curiosity, and so much laughter.

And yes, I did put on the gorilla mask.

All photographs by Caring for Textiles unless otherwise stated.

Conserving Mother Seton’s dancing slippers – America’s first saint

By 4 Comments

Elizabeth Ann Bayley Seton (1774-1821) was a Catholic sister and founder of Saint Joseph’s Academy and Free School, the first Catholic girls’ school in America, Emmitsburg, MD, 1810. She dedicated her life to the care of children, the poor, and her school. In 1975 she was the first American canonized as a saint.

Mother Seton is instantly identifiable in her iconic 18th c black linen bonnet, which CFT also conserved for short term display. A facsimile will replace the original for permanent exhibition. Portraits of Elizabeth and William Seton, late 1700’s.   

Mother Seton was born in NYC to a wealthy Episcopalian family. Married at the age of 19 to William Seton, they had 5 children. After his young death in Livorno Italy, she converted to Catholicism.

In 2023 CFT conserved several of Mother Seton’s personal pieces of clothing, carefully saved for over 200 years. Among them were her famous bonnet, a silk woven shawl, satin slippers, and a christening dress. It was deeply moving to be in entrusted with the conservation of these ‘relics’ of this American saint.
On view at the new museum, Mother Seton’s silk shawl and bonnet; dancing slippers, and her children’s christening dress. Curious young visitors, photo courtesy of Seton Shrine.

Two pair of rare 18th c slippers, in the collection of the Daughters of Charity, chronicle Mother Seton’s early life, and are a view into her socially prominent married life in NYC, where she wore these to balls and festivities. Apparently, she loved to dance, considered it good exercise, and kept her slippers her whole life. They are now on view in a new exhibition at the Seton Shrine Museum and Visitor Center. The new center tells her life story through many rare surviving artifacts, connecting her young life to that of a sister, accomplished educator, and devout Catholic.

Her sharply pointed-toe slippers have a lustrous cream-colored silk satin outer cloth, with an embroidered  “S” on each toe, executed in silver metallic thread and tiny spangles. (now oxidized blackish but still with some sparkle)  The upper edge of the slipper has a drawstring and a small bow. The interior is natural colored linen, and soles are fine leather.

This type of satin slipper was the most popular formal shoe for women in the 18th c up to the mid 1850’s. While simple in appearance, they are constructed with exacting skill, fine materials and are clearly a sign of quality by the wearer.

Each slipper features a shoe makers red stamp on the interior sides, indicating size ‘2’ and the makers name, a New York City firm. The stamps provide not only provenance, but confirm the popularity of such shoes. This is not surprising as shoe making is an early industry in America, and shoe labels appear much earlier than in garments or other accessories.

While delicate and danced in, other examples can be found in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of Fine Arts Boston. Once belonging to well-to-do ladies, they are very similar in construction and style. 
A very similar pair in cream-colored satin with metallic thread and spangle embroidery on the toes. These contain a maker’s label which reads: Made by John Buckler, Ladies Shoe maker, William Street, New York. MET Museum, Acc. No. 11.60.196 a,b. The more austere black satin slippers are in the same style, perhaps for mourning period. Collection of the MFA, acc no. 52.1222 a,b
https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/80024555?rpp=60&pg=3&ft=slippers&pos=177
https://collections.mfa.org/download/112934;jsessionid=5707C098F9AE31A82892D3ED8470A5D5

Mother Seton’s slippers were on display for many years, and became misshapen, creased and wrinkled. However, overall, the slippers were in good structural condition. The goal of our conservation treatment was to re shape, surface clean, make custom paddings to support the delicate silken and linen structure, and make them absolutely beautiful for display in the new museum. 

Previous display, passive humidification softened the silk and linen, and allowed for gentle re shaping and padding out. The final conserved slippers.

Designing the supports was a creative process. The goal was an ‘invisible’ ‘minimalist structure, that would create a delicate beautiful shape, while filling the toe area, and providing a bit of tension to hold out the sides. AND make visible the maker’s labels on the interior sides. We looked at traditional shoe trees, shapers, fitters, stretchers, and the methods used by museums today. It involved lots of measuring, making mock ups, and experimenting with various archival materials.

The toe is supported with a custom toe pad of abaca tissue paper and polyester batting, with soft foam volara base and front, and covered with a light weight cotton fabric matching the inside linen lining of the slippers. The ‘toe ball’ fits snuggly and is only slightly visible when viewing the slipper from the end of the shoe. A linen cord is attached to the end of the ‘toe ball’ in order to gently remove it.

The back of the shoe is supported by a firm rounded ‘sling’ that nestles into the back heel. It is constructed of fosshape, a polyester felt material, that is shaped and hardened with steam. It is wrapped with a layer of soft batting and covered with the cotton fabric matching the linen lining of the slipper. This ‘sling’ holds the heel of the slipper firm and upright.

To provide support to the sides of the slippers, and keep the shoe shape extended, two pairs of  ‘arms’ are attached to the back ‘sling’ and tips inserted into the edge of the ‘toe ball’. The arms are constructed of the same fosshape padded covered method, so that they blend in with the lining of the slipper. The interior labels are still visible and the slippers are fully supported, and elegant.

It was a great honor to preserve Mother Seton’s dancing slippers for many to see and better understand the breadth of this American woman, and saint.  

Making a pilgrimage to Mother Seton’s new museum with grand daughter Oona.

All photos by Julia M Brennan, Caring for Textiles, unless otherwise noted.

https://setonshrine.org/museum/

https://setonshrine.org/behind-the-artifact-dancing-slippers/

The textiles that bind us – in memory of Mike Heffner, 1967-2023

By 13 Comments

How many of you have a beloved sweater, jeans, or your mother’s shirt or father’s scarf?

Textiles can be transformative, alive, sharing their stories by context, memory, and touch. A baseball cap might be just a baseball cap until your hero signs it. You now hold what the other person once held. A central principle of preserving textiles is the recognition that they are expressions of life, touchstones of memory, and reminders of our common heritage— This is the work of Caring for Textiles.

Photos Caring for Textiles. Love Jeans collection of the Valentine Museum, Richmond, Va.

My belief in textiles as ANIMATE has always been a pillar of my conservation practice. It is how I move through my work, whether I am preparing a 1910 suffragist banner for display, or creating a mannequin for Mohammad Ali’s boxing coat. This belief underpins the cleaning of the yellowed lace of a christening gown or the repair of an ancestor’s tattered quilt. Each item tells its own story – they are deeply important to people; possessing the power to instantly connect us to a place, time, or person.

- “all life is inter-related”, wrote Martin Luther King Jr, “…we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny.” (Letter from Montgomery Jail, April 1963)

My destiny was tied to Mike Heffner through old family friends, my neighborhood, and as we soon discovered – a love of textiles. The first time I met him, with his exuberant energy and gorgeous traveling computer (where all my photos looked sensational) it was all about our passion for color, texture, pattern, and what each motif meant, how to weave it into a story, into a vibrant happy and accessible website. He was eager to tell my stories, and the stories of so many whom with I work. My vocation to repair, preserve and display textiles entwined with Mike’s skills to interlace our worlds into a single garment of destiny together.

Central image: Textile by MULTICOLORES Cooperative, Guatemala.
Mike loved the colorful batiks of Pekalongan, North Coast of Java

Wherever I was in the world and no matter what time… teaching workshops in Java on the care of batik, or preserving monastic textiles in Bhutan, trying to untangle the path forward for preserving the clothing of the victims of genocide, Mike answered my texts and emails. ‘of course I’d love to craft a blog with you’. His enthusiasm spurred me on, made my own often repetitious work, feel really alive and relevant. He checked sources, added marvelous pithy intros, emojis, and made my blog and website a source of excitement for us at CFT and beyond.

A few nights before Mike passed, he reached out to me….”this may be an odd request”, he said, “so first get a glass of wine”. He asked me to make sure he was shrouded and surrounded with beautiful textiles to journey on with him, and celebrate his life. All my hope that he would live, was sucked from me… and I now had the most important textile project of my life.

At Mike’s memorial service, a selection of my colorful batiks and silks were stretched and festooned all around the alter and large portraits of Mike. It reminded me of funerals in Asia and Africa; a true celebration of life and the living. It was sacred and festive; we posed beside his beautiful image and cried and laughed and danced. The edges of textiles made our world, all the people who had known Mike, free, loving and wild.

Our strongest feelings linger in our tactile surroundings and someone’s beauty and memory is held in a blouse, wrap, or favorite t-shirt. Mike’s family had gathered up many of his favorite clothes and textiles, and torn them into strips. A large frame loom sat beside the alter, and one by one, two by two, we all selected a memory of Mike and wove it into a whole cloth. There were so many people weaving, that the loom was carried to the reception where the very last inch of the warps was filled. I carry a piece of blue and red Lao silk that I had given Mike for his wedding four years prior. It is a touchstone for me.

At the end of Mike’s celebration of life ceremony, I met a young woman wearing one of Mike’s favorite shirts. A small pattern soft to the touch sport shirt…I imagined her selecting this tenderly from Mike’s closet and wearing it in his honor, loving it close to her body, sharing this second skin. I just wanted to touch her shoulder, caress that piece of Mike, the sacred ‘dust’ and memory of him.

I’ve spent my career asking a set of questions about damage and repair, how to care, what to leave alone? How do I do this humanitarian and spiritual work, which is about people?

Caring for textiles at its core is about remembering, comfort, healing and peace. And with Mike it was a journey we took together over 15 years, sharing our stories of love, and falling in love, adventure, children, work, beauty, hand skills, and finally loss.

Mike’s blogs live on like stars, the stories they are. He shined a beautiful light on them so they could shine and inspire others.

Dedicated to Mike Heffner, 1967-2023, Partner of 202Design.

Sparkling Smart Smithies Share Textiles Studio Time

By 1 Comment

By Julia M. Brennan

We always look forward to the annual fall studio visit of the Smith College Museum Studies students, and this year was a dynamic group!

Group photo of Smith College Museum Studies students in studio

Our hope is to inspire the next generation by sharing our conservation hand work and enthusiasm for cultural heritage.

—caring for textiles, october 2022

Every fall, a group of Smith undergraduate students spend a semester in Washington DC doing internships at various departments of the Smithsonian Institution. Broad interests and diverse areas of study were reflected through their curiosity, keen observations and provocative questions. Discussions touched on repatriation, re-defining and interpreting American history through material culture, people vs object based conservation, analysis of fabrics and clothing structure, the surge of protest textiles, the ethics of public wearing items of historic clothing…for example the recent Met Museum Gala, how textiles as a second skin carry intimate stories…and more.

Their focus is primarily American history, and it just so happened that the textiles we laid out to discuss were all “American stories.”

The National Negro Opera Company, founded by Mary Cardwell Dawson, drew us into discussions about costume, the efforts to fundraise and preserve the Mystery Mansion home of the opera in Pittsburgh, and the need for rural preservation projects—a dedicated community conservation corps—across America.

On our studio table, above, and details, below: carefully preserved costumes from the first African American opera company in the USA, 1941-1962.

Marjorie Merriweather Post’s flapper era claret-colored velvet party dress (below) introduced the group to the Post legacy including the invention of the Postum drink and Grape Nuts, the Hillwood Estate and Museum’s Russian and French decorative arts and Faberge collections, and of course her famous home ‘Mar a Lago’.

General John Hartwell Cocke’s (1780–1866) wool military jacket (below), shiny gold bouillon epaulettes and beaver bicorne – worn during the War of 1812 and pictured in the famous 1859 portrait of him painted by Edward Troye. The Smith visitors wanted to probe what aspects of this man’s life are we learning about and does some of his history affect/shape our conservation work? Can or should conservation be “neutral?” A farmer, slave owner, amateur architect, author, friend of Thomas Jefferson, military officer, leader of the Temperance movement, ‘reformer’ and purportedly anti-slavery but a chief organizer of the rather unpopular colonization project to repatriate formerly enslaved people to Liberia…all of these complex personal story lines and American history embedded in his 200 year old uniform…

Contemporaneous with Cocke’s uniform is a magnificent shadow log cabin pattern crazy quilt (below) executed in tiny ¾” strips of silk and velvet, is a mastery of light, shade, and technical stitching. Hard to imagine the 1850’s woman who labored on this exquisite show quilt. How was it stitched, the cloth obtained, or used in the household? What conservation principles guide the methods for stabilization and then framing?   

A tender little 1803 American sampler embroidery stimulated conversations about authorship, and the rarity of ‘signed’ textile artworks, how young women were ‘schooled’ this detailed craft.

The right to privacy laws, Roe v Wade, women’s health, social movements in the US today unraveled through the examination of Supreme Court Justice Brandeis’s black silk gown (below).  Perceived not just as a somber dark robe, the influence of this man’s decisions was palpable in his garment and among our visitors.

As a product of single sex schooling (Miss Porters School and Barnard College) and an advocate for women’s education, I recognized myself in these students. It was not only personally gratifying to recognize myself in these students, but also an honor to host the Smith students. Our hope is to inspire the next generation by sharing our conservation hand work and enthusiasm for cultural heritage. 

Thank you to professor Dr Anne Nellis Richter, who makes Caring for Textiles an annual pilgrimage.

Learn more about the museums concentration program at Smith.

Preserving The Clothing of Diplomacy

By 4 Comments

Celebrating French/American Relations Through These and Other Objects in the U.S. Ambassador’s residence in the Hôtel Rothschild

Collaborative blog by Elizabeth Wise, Kaitlyn Munro, Katherine Hill McIntyre, Julia Brennan
All images are courtesy of Caring for Textiles unless otherwise noted.
interior shot of Hôtel Rothschild
Photos by E. Wise

The Lights that Guide Us: A Celebration of Hôtel Rothschild et son
Jardin Pontalba & the Franco-American Legacy
An exhibition celebrating 50 years of U.S. Ambassadors’ residence in the Hôtel Rothschild, as the house is known today.
The exhibit is open June 10, 2022–October 1, 2022

On a site chosen originally by the Chancellor to King Louis XIV, the 1842 residence was built by the Baroness de Pontalba of New Orleans. Minutes from the Louvre and just yards from the presidential Elysée Palace, the house’s gorgeous gardens are a park in the center of Paris.

After the Baroness’s death, it was bought by Baron Edmond de Rothschild of the banking family. The family was forced to flee to Switzerland during World War II, and the US Government purchased the building in 1948, becoming the residence of the American Ambassador in 1972. With considerable help from the Rothschild family, the residence has regained the splendor of that era.   

The show celebrates that era and French American relations through a mixture of historical and contemporary objects, including the clothing of diplomacy. Among the items on display are the World War II uniform of a Monuments Man, representing the Allied effort to recover works of art looted by Nazi Germany. The exhibit also highlights the rich exchanges in popular culture, featuring art by the painter Ellsworth Kelly and, of course, the American-born singer and dancer Josephine Baker, who adopted France as her homeland and was just last year (2021) interred in the Panthéon, France’s temple to its great heroes. 

Mr. Mason’s suit holds pride of place on display in the Ball Room. The Minister Plenipotentiary would no doubt be pleased to see evidence of the continued friendship and cultural exchanges between his home and host countries.

jacket and pants on display
display case in museum exhibit
portrait of Mr. Mason
detail of back of formal military jacket
detail of buttons on front of formal military jacket
Mr. Mason’s suit holds pride of place on display in the Ball Room. The Minister Plenipotentiary would undoubtedly be pleased to see evidence of the continued friendship and cultural exchanges between his home and host countries.
detail of printed card


Our subject John Y. Mason (1799–1859), was probably a larger-than-life personality. This Virginia-born man served as Representative from Virginia, Secretary of the Navy, and Attorney General of the US before serving as the US Minister (called Ambassador today) to France. Posted in Paris from 1854–1859, during the period of Napoleon III, he wanted to look as debonair as the other international diplomats, so Mason had this stylish uniform made in Paris.  Candice Nancel, Cultural Heritage Manager at the US Embassy in Paris, tells an amusing story about the suit: “The US government, aka US Secretary of State William L. Marcy, thought it was too ostentatious, and reprimanded Mason for it. They thought that he should be wearing what an American would wear, and he wanted to wear what was worn here. He was reprimanded for dressing up too much!”
           

before shot of tricorn hat
after shot of tricorn hat
 The uniform includes a beaver bicorn from Rouart Rue Richelieu, Paris, blue wool tailcoat jacket, white trousers, elegant braces (suspenders) from Charles Guyot, and white kid gloves
lining of hat
front of military formal jacket
suspenders or braces
long white dress gloves in glass case

He was reprimanded for dressing up too much!

To celebrate Mr. Mason’s ‘individualism’ and style, the ensemble was conserved before being shipped to Paris for display on a custom-made mannequin. While each uniform piece required gentle surface cleaning and some sprucing up, the tailcoat was the focus of more extensive treatment.

restored jacket with buttons
silk lining of jacket in need of resortation
The silk lining had seen better days….it was torn, frayed, and ‘un wearable’ (even by a mannequin). The powdery silk and fleeing wool batting were depositing soiling all over the dark wool broadcloth.

Using a typical textile conservation technique to stabilize shattering linings and slips, sheer fabric overlays (like silk organza) were secured over the whole lining using fine hand stitching. This overlay protects the damaged lining from further abrasion and loss. And the translucence of the fabric allows the original lining material to be seen.

pins used in textile conservation
inside lining of formal military jacket
jacket fully open during textile restoration

For display, the jacket needed to be fully buttoned. Horizontal cuts aligning with each button slit were made through the new silk repair lining. Raw edges were then bound with tiny pieces of adhesive-treated sheer silk. The edges of the bound buttonholes (Jacket and new organza overlay) were delicately stitched together. An elegant, long-lasting functional solution and one that any tailor will admire.

A 19th-century uniform requires a carefully made custom mannequin. The goal was to show the suit in the most dapper way possible while carefully supporting delicate parts and disguising a rather large waistline.

Let’s take a peek at what’s underneath:

Using various archival padding and building materials – ethafoam, high loft polyester batting with no resin, polyester felt, cotton stockinette (used for covering casts), and cotton jersey – the body form was shaped and styled to support the jacket and trousers. Removal of arms and legs makes the mannequin easy to assemble and take apart for its journey back to the United States.

https://oboculturalheritage.state.gov/exhibitions/the-lights-that-guide-us/

Thank you to Candice Nancel, Cultural Heritage Manager at the Embassy of the United States in Paris, Curator Joseph Angemi, and the staff of U.S. Department of State Bureau of Overseas Buildings Operations.

All images are courtesy of Caring for Textiles unless otherwise noted.  

Through the Onlooking Glass: A View to Open Conservation

By 2 Comments

By Peyton Bramble

Peyton Bramble in Heinz History Center Conservation Lab

In the field of history, there is a subsection that is less known: Public History. As a recent graduate from Shippensburg University with a BA in Public History, I was able to experience Public History first-hand through the lens of open conservation.

The concept of open conservation is to “pull back the curtain” on all the detailed actions that go into preserving artifacts and preparing them for exhibition. Traditionally, the work of conservators was exclusively secreted in labs and private ateliers. Conservators were put in windowless labs (to prevent light damage, of course; we are not monsters) where a multitude of scientific and hand skills are employed to analyze, clean, repair, and prep objects, extending their lives for the generations to come.

The goal of open conservation labs is to “connect with art, science, world cultures, and history in ways that engage and delight,” as explained by the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, Massachusetts which opened its public access conservation lab in 2020. This initiative is one with roots in 2000 that began with the opening of the Lunder Conservation Center at Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, DC after a six-year construction process with its official opening in 2006.

As a public historian,
I think open conservation is great.

– CFT Intern Peyton Bramble

As a public historian, I think this initiative is great! It takes ideas that interpretive museums have been trying to achieve and does it on a large scale. By creating a looking glass into the lives of conservators, it shines a beautiful light on what it means to be in the museum studies field, handling and caring for the objects that the public enjoys. That being said, in practice open conservation manifests in different ways, some more successful than others.

At the University of Penn Museum in Philadelphia, there is an artifact lab that provides visitors with in-person tours of what is being worked on. Guided instruction and thorough explanation are available. This is good interpretive history. By having a knowledgeable person from the field right there to take questions from curious children or inquisitive adults, the experience is enhanced for all. It is a conversation; it helps bring to life the human stories centered around the repair of these artifacts and the profession. The conservator has a direct way to share their own messages around the importance of conservation, and the visitor gets the scoop as to what goes on behind closed doors, and hopefully learns something too.

Another good example of an open conservation lab is The Conservation Center in Chicago, IL. As the largest laboratory in the country, it has certainly earned its name as The Conservation Center. The Conservation Center schedules private tours in which the CEO Heather Becker takes guests behind the scenes. “Guests are encouraged to engage with conservators and learn about the latest conservation techniques in each discipline. Conservators will introduce a current project and share insights on preservation and care of artwork.” While not a museum, The Conservation Center in Chicago handles the topic of open conservation effectively, providing both guests and conservators with an engaged and unique experience. Coming back from the pandemic, the Conservation Center has slowly started resuming its private tours on a case-by-case basis but prior to the pandemic, they averaged about two tours per month.

In June I joined the Caring for Textiles team to work onsite at the Heinz History Center in Pittsburgh, PA. Our focus was a really large textile – a 1970 banner celebrating the Pittsburgh Steelers. It was hand-painted by a fan and depicted the four defensive linemen that made up the ‘Steel Curtain’. To have a space large enough to treat this banner, we set up shop in the Grace M. Compton Conservation Lab. One long wall of glass windows faced a huge exhibition space.  This perspective was like being in a fishbowl; we had suddenly become our own exhibit.

Our first day was a bit of an adjustment—glancing up from hand stitching to see camera flashes and an audience. Eventually, the outside world just faded away and we were alone and absorbed in our work. But I noticed a recurring pattern over several days: people would simply stand at the glass for a minute or so, observe, and then move on. It seemed a bit like reading a label. While our work was easier not being interrupted to answer questions, I was a little bothered by it, this passive encounter. Granted, the Heinz History Center does not have a permanent conservation team, but the lab is used for many object-based purposes, and it seems that signage, or scheduled open question sessions would make the reality of open conservation a lot more dynamic and informative, and to serve its purpose. 

This particular example of open conservation had no two-way understanding or communication. From a distance, the repairs and treatment we were doing on the banner were nearly impossible to see, much less comprehend. The most audiences would glean was that we were probably fixing the banner in some way. With conservation being fairly invisible over the last century, the average museumgoer has no real idea of what the work or profession entails. With no one to explain it, no signage, walkie-talkie with conservators, or active film clips…it will remain that way.

A majority of the general public does not realize this profession exists; I did not even know about
open conservation until I did an internship in a museum.

Open conservation is an exciting initiative for both worlds of conservators and public history. Shining a spotlight on the details of preservation work provides a window into how important conservation is to the long-term success of museums and their collections. A majority of the general public does not realize this profession exists; I did not even know until I did an internship in a museum. What a discovery for me. Our field is significant and integral to preserving cultural heritage for all, and allowing public access is really important.

In conclusion, the design and management of open conservation needs to be thoughtful in order to be successful. Having signage or someone knowledgeable onsite is necessary for the success of an open conservation program. Giving visitors that access and conversation is a necessary component. A glass window is not enough. If done well, open conservation labs or planned public art restoration projects are a large step forward in supporting successful public history.  

Sources:

http://www.theconservationcenter.com

https://www.heinzhistorycenter.org/museum-conservation-center/preservation

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/21/travel/Open-conservation-art-preservation.html#:~:text=The%20Lunder%20Conservation%20Center%20at%20the%20Smithsonian%20American%20Art%20Museum

https://www.mfa.org/collections/conservation-and-collections-management/conservation-center

https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-2006-jul-02-ca-smithsonian2-story.html

https://americanart.si.edu/art/conservation

Spot illustrations from Adobe Stock.

Restoring The “Star-Spangled Banner” of Frederick Maryland: Part Two

By 4 Comments

By Kaitlyn Munro

If you missed the first part of this two-part series, click here to read that post.

Our introduction to Mrs. Shawbaker’s flag began with an initial assessment in 2020. It was mounted and framed in the 1980’s. The flag was puckered, distorted and wrinkled, with hundreds of disfiguring and damaging stitches done with thick nylon thread. Working closely with City Hall and the Frederick Art Commission, we all agreed that it was time for a preservation overhaul.

Mrs. Shawbaker’s flag, 2020 in its ‘original’ frame at City Hall.

The conservation work began in earnest in 2021 and would take eight dedicated months with five professional partners, to complete. Once the unframed flag was in the conservation studio, our first step was to carefully clip and remove all the nylon thread stitches and delicately and gingerly detach it from its heavy cotton lining. The process was painstaking and laborious, but what emerged was the soft and supple wool bunting.

Gallery below: Summer intern Peyton Bramble and Julia carefully remove nylon threads. 

Now we could access the front and back in order to carefully surface clean, humidify, press, and weight the flag to reduce creasing.

Kaitlyn and Peyton vacuum the flag through a protective fiberglass screen.
The array of vellux blanket sponges at the bottom of the photo shows how much dirt and soiling was extracted.
Astonishing! We could only wonder if some of this soiling harkened from Matilda burying the flag in soil or ashes?

Previously, the flag was stitched onto an ice-white lining and the holes and losses screamed out. The damages and losses still required extra support so a new lining was in order. This presented an opportunity to explore other fabric options. When it comes to color and opacity, the decision is truly aesthetic and must ultimately be decided by the stakeholders. Alison Cain and Donna Rosano, members of the Frederick Public Art Commission came to the studio to guide this important decision. From our carefully pre-selected conservation options, they chose semi-sheer fabrics that don’t fully disguise or hide the holes, but allow the viewer to understand and see the flag ‘whole’. 

Peyton takes a selfie with Kaitlyn, Alison, Julia, Donna, and Mrs. Shawbaker’s flag.

The next big step was individually lining each stripe. Since the fine old wool was wiggly and dimensionally varied, the lining fabric was pinned in place and carefully cut to ensure a precise alignment of the two fabrics.

image of old damaged flag being repaired by hand
Aligning and pinning the creamy khaki-colored lining fabric to the back of the flag. Then the fabric is trimmed to the precise shape of each stripe.
hand stitching damaged flag with nylon thread
Hand stitching each stripe lining using monofilament polyester thread—the stitching is nearly invisible!

Next, the canton—a piece of very fragile fragmentary blue cotton with 34 heavily painted stars. The stars were all badly damaged, with large disfiguring chunks of stars missing, thousands of puncture holes from the previous nylon cord stitching, and torn and split cotton ground cloth. We may know a thing or two when it comes to textiles, but we need to collaborate with other conservators when working on textiles with mixed media. Nancy Pollak, an expert in painted textiles, spent time with us to give the stars their due attention. Nancy is a Frederick resident so it was exciting for us to have a community member work on the flag in such a direct capacity!

textile professionals Julia and Nancy discuss a repair plan
Julia and Nancy discuss the treatment of the painted stars.
close up of painted fabric star being repaired by hand
To prevent any flaking of paint in the future, the edges of each star were consolidated with Ethulose which creates a tough yet flexible film for protection.

Remember, our approach was to make the flag look ‘whole’ but not restored or new. Therefore, the treatment of the stars was discrete; filling in strategic areas of loss and stabilizing all the flaking, falling paint. We found commonality here with our colleague: painting conservators use textiles as a treatment material too! In order to align and stabilize the stars, Nancy mended the back of each break with adhesive supports of very fine polyester fabric called Stabilitex (We’ve used this in previous projects, too.) 

damaged star is repaired with a tacking iron
Nancy uses a tacking iron to heat set each Stabilitex mend.
reparied star close up
Here is a star that has many Stabilitex mends. They blend in very well, can you see them?

The stars with huge chunks missing were visually distracting.  These were elegantly filled with adhesive-coated polyester chiffon in shades that blended with the star’s variegated coloring.

Here is a star before…
…and after treatment: A stunning/sparkling transformation!

With the stars stabilized, the blue canton was safely lined with custom-dyed cotton voile hand stitched in place. The final treatment step was to secure all the tears, splits, frayed and unraveling edges, and myriad holes throughout the whole flag. This was done using various stitches and stitching techniques, all going through to the new lining for dimensional support.

Before and after treatment of the stitch stabilization of a very delicate fragmentary area of the canton.
Now the old canton fabric is finely couched to the supportive lining.

And with that, conservation treatment was complete! The flag was now stable enough to be re-mounted and framed.  The mounting of the freshly conserved flag was done by hand stitching it to a padded fabric-covered archival mount; each stripe, all edges, delicately but firmly stitch tacked in place. Archival Arts Services in Alexandria, Virginia (who we highly recommend!) collaborated with the Frederick Art Commissioners to select an elegant new gilded and lacquered frame, and UV protective Plexiglas. 

On November 16, 2021, we all gathered excitedly in City Hall for reinstallation day. We do not always get the opportunity to take part in a dramatic installation. So often our completed treatments leave the studio and we never see our hard work and handwork in person.

Restored flag now on display again in Frederic, MD.
The Caring for Textiles team poses with the Mayor of Frederick Mr. Michael O’Connor and the proudly installed flag. An important piece of Frederick Maryland’s historic identity is once again on display.
One final “before”…
…and “after!”

Oh, say does Mrs. Shawbaker’s “star-spangled banner” yet wave! It was an incredible honor to work on this flag and preserve Mrs. Shawbaker’s American legacy. These “broad stripes and bright stars” are shining once again!

If you ever find yourself in Frederick, Maryland, be sure to stop by City hall and visit the flag.

UPDATE: We were proud to have this project featured in the February 23, 2022, Frederick News Post. You can read that article online here.

The “Star-Spangled Banner” of Frederick Maryland: Part One

By 5 Comments

By Kaitlyn Munro

Oh say, can you see” this remarkable flag? I think sometimes people tend to think of flags as ordinary textiles in the sense that we see them everywhere; outside office buildings, schools, homes etc. Though they remain symbolically powerful, we think of them as universally alike. When a flag tells an interesting story, they become a compelling textile.

Mrs. Shawbaker’s flag, re-installed at Frederick City Hall November 2021

This American flag, on display in a place of high honor in the City Hall of Frederick Maryland, tells the story of an immigrant woman taking pride in the country she would call home for the rest of her life. 

Matilda Kiefer Shawbaker‘s life began in Bavaria in 1820. After her mother’s passing when she was 11, she immigrated to Frederick with her father and siblings.  She eventually went on to marry second-generation immigrant George Shawbaker, whose father was Adam Shawbaker. The elder Mr. Shawbaker was a Hessian who fought in the Revolutionary War. He was captured after the battle of Yorktown in 1781 and eventually imprisoned at the barracks in Frederick. In 1783, he was released and was able to pay the $83 required for him to remain in America. Adam eventually married a local woman, Anna Barbara Schnautiegel, and had four children, one of them being George.

George and Matilda (our flag maker) had seven children, and interestingly enough, lived at the barracks where his father was once imprisoned. At this time, the barracks also served as the location for the   Frederick County Cattle Show and Agricultural Exhibition. Sometime between 1861 and 1863, Matilda was commissioned to sew an American flag to be flown on the fairgrounds. She was given enough extra material to sew a flag of her own as payment, and this is the flag that would eventually hang in City Hall.

Hessian Barracks in Frederick, Maryland. It is located on the campus of the Maryland School for the Deaf. (Image Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Hessian_Barracks_MD1.jpg)

Shawbaker family history says that some of the damage the flag sustained over the years is due to the two occasions Matilda hid it when the Confederate Army came through Frederick. One time she stashed it in cold ashes in her stove; the other time she buried it in her garden. The story reflects Matilda’s great dedication to protecting the flag, despite any potential risk of damage from her hiding it in hazardous places.


The flag was passed down from generation to generation and eventually her great-grandson William E. Main donated the flag to the City of Frederick.

This graphic shows the construction of the flag, the short horizontal dashed lines represent where each stripe is pieced. Mrs. Shawbaker made sure to get the most out of the fabric that was given to her.
Matilda Kiefer Shawbaker at age 100 Image source: http://www.mountolivethistory.com/stories-in-stone-blog/a-hessian-connection

Recently, Caring for Textiles completed the months-long and monumental project of conserving and re-mounting Mrs. Shawbaker’s handmade and hand-stitched flag. In every step of our conservation process, we hoped to honor her fine stitching and keep her memory in our thoughts. What did she think of as she sewed this flag? Was she worried about the ongoing Civil War? Did she work on it in the evenings beside the firelight, in her precious spare time?

The felled seams of the flag stripes show Mrs. Shawbakers neat and tidy stitching.
All of the seams are intact and Mrs. Shawbakers fine stitch-work is holding strong after 160 years!

We invite you to join us next week and check out part two, all about our conservation process!


Source:  http://www.mountolivethistory.com/stories-in-stone-blog/a-hessian-connection

Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum Launches New, Moving Exhibition Of Victims’ Clothes

By 2 Comments

On Monday, December 27, 2021, in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum launched a new, moving exhibition of victims’ clothes—Remembering S-21 Victims through their Clothes: Textiles Preservation at Tuol Sleng Museum.

This, and all the following photos: Courtesy of Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum & US Embassy, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

The exhibition is the culmination of four years of focused conservation triage, treatment, and training in order to preserve the clothing and textile remains from a major prison site of the Khmer Rouge genocide. The clothing and the stories they tell are powerful personal testimonies of the enormous tragedy suffered by Cambodians.

Generously supported by two grants from the US Ambassadors Fund for Cultural Preservation, 2018-2021, Julia Brennan implemented a textile conservation training program at the museum, and in collaboration developed sustainable methods for long-term preservation and storage of the textiles. Even when the pandemic halted in-person training, we all continued the daily work of this project thanks to online meetings and enormous dedication. This exhibition is about the hard work to rescue and catalog these textiles into a well-cared for and accessible archive, for greater public education, understanding, and healing.

Thank you to Tuol Sleng Museum Director Mr. Nisay Hang and former Director Mr. Visoth Chhay, and to all the US Embassy Phnom Penh, and the Tuol Sleng Exhibition team. Special heartfelt thanks to my conservation colleagues: Chenda Kho, Sokpenh Chheang, Chetrey Chean, Sokly Choub, Sreynoch Ping, and Jackie Peterson Grace. It was such an honor to work with you all.

— All photos: Courtesy of Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum & US Embassy, Phnom Penh, Cambodia—

The opening ceremony was presided by H.E. Prak Sonnara, Secretary of State of Ministry of Culture of Fine Arts, and Mr. Benjamin V. Wohlauer, Deputy Chief of Mission of the United States Ambassador to Cambodia.

  • All photos courtesy of Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum & US Embassy, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Through photos and text panels, the physical clothing, testimonials and videos, the exhibit shows the processes and results of the sensitive and site-based conservation protocols developed to preserve these fragile ‘witness bearing’ textiles.

  • All photos courtesy of Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum & US Embassy, Phnom Penh, Cambodia

— All photos: Courtesy of Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum & US Embassy, Phnom Penh, Cambodia—

To learn more:

Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Watch the public presentation by Julia Brennan and Tuol Sleng conservation team:
Textiles of Human Tragedies: Preservation Efforts at Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum
Washington Conservation Guild WCG, May 6, 2021.

WCG YouTube channel: 
washingtonconservationguild.org

EAC News
Tuol Sleng Opens New Temporary Exhibition Showcasing Preserved Clothes of S-21 Victims
(video link below)

Further reading, link below:
Khmer Times
December 28, 2021, by Yin Soeum

Tuol Sleng launches moving new exhibition of victims’ clothes

Copyright © 2023 Caring For Textiles. All rights reserved.

Site designed & maintained by