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Williamstown Art Conservation Center | 1

A P U B L I C A T I O N O f T h e W I L L I A m s T O W N A r T C O N s e r v A T I O N C e N T e r v O L U m e 7 , N U m B e r 1 • s P r I N g 2 0 1 2

2 | Art Conservator | Spring 2012 Williamstown Art Conservation Center | 3

Contents, Spring 2012

Art ConservatorVolume 7, Number 1 • Spring 2012

Director

T homas J. Branchick

Editor

Timothy Cahill

Art Direction and Production

Berg Design, Albany NY

Photographer

Matthew Hamilton

Contributors

Hugh Glover, Lauren LaFlam,

Zoë Samels, Michelle Savant,

Larry Shutts

Proofreader

David Brickman

Office Manager

Rob Conzett

Accounts Manager

Teresa Haskins

Printing

Snyder Printer, Troy, NY

Williamstown Art Conservation Center 227 South Street

Williamstown, MA 01267

www.williamstownart.org

T: 413-458-5741

f: 413-458-2314

Atlanta Art Conservation Center 6000 Peachtree Road

Atlanta, GA 30341

T: 404-733-4589

F: 678-547-1453

All rights reserved. Text and photographs

copyright © Williamstown Art Conservation

Center (WACC), unless otherwise noted.

Art Conservator is published twice yearly

by WACC, T homas J. Branchick, director.

Material may not be reproduced in any form

without written permission of Williamstown

Art Conservation Center. WACC is a

nonprofit, multi-service conservation center

serving the needs of member museums,

nonprofit institutions and laboratories, and

the general public.

From the Director

Chairs used by summer visitors at Stone Hill Center stand empty as autumn makes its arrival in the Berkshires.

On the coverWilliam Bouguereau’s Nymphs and Satyr

(detail), faced in Japanese tissue during

treatment.

3 Director’s Letter

4 Nymphs Reborn

Conservation casts new light on William Bouguereau’s Nymphs and Satyr By Timothy Cahill

8 The Talladega Murals

Hale Woodruff’s Amistad masterpiece embarks on a national tour By Larry Shutts

12 Pinning Down History

Insects, America, and the Art of John Hampson By Zoë Samels 16 WACC News & Notes

Mongolian conservator completes residency; reconstructing David Deconstructed; Roy Lichtenstein’s Wallpaper

18 Report from Atlanta

Polish and shine for a surrealist sculpture

19 Tech Notes

Original Picture Frames on Watercolors by Charles Burchfield By Hugh Glover

A few weeks ago I completed one of the most complicated treatments of my career, William Adolphe Bouguereau’s huge painting Nymphs and Satyr, owned by the Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institutute. The structural part of the treatment was straightforward. The canvas’s 1942 lining peeled away with ease. Removing the adhesive residue was just as easy—it swelled with moisture and was merely a repetitive exercise. The protective facing tissue did its job keeping the paint film intact.

The cleaning and cosmetic treatment, however—that was complicated. We knew that the painting was abraded during the 1942 cleaning. We also knew that a thick, syrupy

varnish was applied at that time to cover up the abrasion and linear ridges from the botched lining. Removing the discolored varnish was the intent of the conservation campaign. This required the curatorial authorities at the Clark Art institute to reach a consensus on the degree of cleaning. There were many sleepless 3AM-ers on this one. Remembering the controversy surrounding the Sistine chapel cleaning, one faction leaned toward maintaining the painting’s brownish veil of age. My concern was, what did the artist intend?

In the last issue of Art Conservator, I forecast that “that big white tushy was going to be a lot whiter.” How much whiter created some debate, but much discussion later the question was resolved to everyone’s agreement. The cleaning balanced the highlights of flesh in the composition, which in my opinion is what the painting is all about. You can travel to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, where the picture is on loan, to see this glorious painting in its new clothes—or more correctly, lack of them—or wait until its return to Williamstown when the Clark reopens in 2014.

Speaking of the Clark’s expansion, I walked up the earth berm overlooking the construction site where our old building used to be. Nothing was there except a small pile of rubble and, after a fleeting moment of nostalgia, my mind quickly hastened to the space that we are in. We sure have moved up, which is evident in the picture below.

Marc Simpson at the Williams College Graduate Program in the History of Art sent along a point of correction regarding our Fall 2011 issue. The article incorrectly reported that the Willem de Kooning painting Labyrinth had not been on exhibition since 1946, but Mark aptly pointed out the large painting was exhibited in the early 1990s at the de Young Museum in San Francisco, where he was curator, after which it went to the Addison Gallery in Andover. Turns out there were several “debuts” prior to last year’s retrospective at the Museum of Modern Art. —Tom Branchick

The newly-lined Nymphs and

Satyr in the paintings lab prior to cleaning.


Nymphs RebornConservation casts new light on William Bouguereau’s Nymphs and Satyr

By Timothy CahillOn a March day in 1934, Robert Sterling Clark spent the day at the Manhattan Storage Company, a storage and warehouse firm that occupied a full block in midtown Manhattan. After inspecting the wine cellars and making arrangements to have a large stock of his own vintages transferred there, the multi-millionaire collector was taken on a tour of the art storage galleries, where he encountered a painting he hadn’t seen for more than thirty years.

Clark recorded the finding in his diary. I saw the famous 1873 Bouguereau ‘Satyr & Nymphs’ again which used to be in the old Hoffman House bar. It really is a fine picture. Marvelous nudes especially the back of one . . . .

Except by men of a certain age, the picture Clark discovered—Nymphs and Satyr, by William Bouguereau—had been all but forgotten by 1934, though it was once the most infamous artwork of Gilded Age New York. From 1882 to 1901, the monumental depiction of four sportive nymphs pulling a goat-man into a wooded pool was the centerpiece of the Hoffman House bar, the most famous hotel barroom in America, made famous in part by that very painting. Its image had decorated cigar boxes, plates, urns, and bathroom tiles, and the painting had been viewed by an assortment of celebrities and dignitaries from Buffalo Bill to Ulysses Grant—even Tchaikovsky saw it following a performance at Carnegie Hall. For three decades, every swell in New York made his way to Broadway and 25th Street to partake of Nymphs, where its heady

combination of aesthetics and eros was displayed beneath a red velvet canopy. Once a week, ladies were permitted in.

To Sterling Clark, it was “the Hoffman House of my youth.” This would have been around 1899, the year that Clark, heir to Singer Sewing Machine millions, graduated from Yale and entered the Army to fight in the Spanish-American war in the Philippines. Clark then served in China during the Boxer Rebellion until 1902. By the time he returned to New York, the Hoffman House was under new ownership and Nymphs had disappeared into storage.

The picture did not fade from consciousness at first, despite being gone from view. In 1905, cartoonist E.A. Filleau celebrated Nymphs and Satyr in a drawing titled, “Weary Walker at Art Exhibit.” A patched and matted hobo contemplates the Bouguereau in a posh salon. “I’ve traveled the world over and tramped every spot on the map,” the vagabond aesthete muses, “but I’m damned if I can locate that brook.” 1905 was also the year Bouguereau died, in La Rochelle, France, the town of his birth. He had once been the most successful artist of his day, but by his passing his reputation was also nearly expired. As Bouguereau lay on his death bed, six hundred kilometers south in the Mediterranean sun Henri Matisse was inventing Fauvism; in Paris, Picasso was just two years away from resequencing the DNA of Western art with Les Demoiselles d’Avignon. After World War One, the art world accelerated ever more quickly away from what modernists considered the dead past. Nothing represented the rotting corpse more than the polished sentimentality of nineteenth-century French academic painting, for which Bouguereau was the exemplar and last great acolyte.

Bouguereau was not dead thirty years when Clark found his greatest masterpiece forgotten in a midtown warehouse, but it may as well have been three centuries. By the 1930s, Bouguereau was persona non grata in modernist history, and only someone whose artistic sensibility was formed amid the opulent paneling of the Hoffman House would have felt much affinity for Nymphs. Clark was such a man. He made inquiries about buying the picture the same day he saw it.

Fast-forward eight years. Clark has not forgotten Nymphs and

Opposite, Nymphs and Satyr (1873) by William Bouguereau, after treatment. This page, detail before treatment, showing surface imperfections..

Cover Story


Satyr, nor has he had any luck obtaining it. By 1942, however, the owner of the painting had died and his estate was willing to entertain offers. That June, Clark added the picture to his ever-expanding art collection, which spanned Western art from Piero della Francesca to Manet, Monet, Renoir, and Degas. At once, he devised a way for Nymphs to become the talk of Manhattan and support the French Resistance in the process. (As a young man, Clark had lived many happy years in now Nazi-occupied Paris; it was where he began collecting art and met his French wife, Francine. He also owned property there.) The painting was placed on exhibit at the upscale Durand-Ruel Gallery with a twenty-five-cent admission, proceeds going to the Fighting French Relief Committee. The event drew the attention of every editor and announcer in New York.

Before placing Nymphs and Satyr on exhibition, Clark sent it to an art restorer named Murray to stabilize the original canvas, which had ripped loose at the edges. This is when the tale begins for the Williamstown Art Conservation Center, where the painting was conserved earlier this year. Now owned by the Sterling and Francine Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Nymphs had been brought to WACC for treatment prior to an extended loan to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. The painting arrived at the Center just before Christmas and was worked on between January and April.

For whatever reason, Murray was not up to the job Clark hired him to do, which involved reinforcing the existing canvas with a lining, and cleaning and revarnishing the painting. Perhaps it was the size of the Bouguereau, some eight feet by six feet, that stymied Murray. Perhaps he worked too fast, or was not skilled at his trade. Or perhaps he was insufficiently sensitive

to the materials and techniques of high French academicism. Whatever the reason, the one-named restorer made a noticeable hash of the picture’s surface, and seventy years later undoing his work was at the heart of the WACC treatment.

Bouguereau had used a thin linen support with a very fine weave for his painting, which allowed him to achieve the enamel smoothness of its finished surface. Heedless of this, Murray lined the painting with a heavier, coarser canvas, one guaranteed to show its texture through the linen. He followed this by restretching the newly-lined painting before the adhesive had fully cured. The result: radical flaws in the varnish and paint layers that were instantly obvious in raking light. Two horizontal welts, impressions made by the stretcher against the still-soft liner, marked the picture one-third and two-thirds of the way from the top, the lower welt embossing a line through the small of the back of the main nude figure. The face of the painting was additionally marred by a network of irregular corrugations, alluvial ridges and furrows that showed bright highlights along their spines and cast a web of thin shadows. The effect of this uneven texture, caused by imprinting of the course lining on Bouguereau’s original “handkerchief linen” support, was exactly like ripples breaking the surface of a pool. In glancing light, you couldn’t see through them to the nymphs below.

Murray cleaned the painting by thinning but not entirely removing Bouguereau’s original dammar varnish layer. Over this, he applied a thick layer of mastic varnish, a substance that yellows quickly with age. Additional varnish was added in 1956, the year Sterling and Francine opened the museum they’d built for their art treasures. The picture went untouched for three decades, until 1984, when it traveled as part of a major Bouguereau retrospective to Montreal and Hartford.

In preparation for the tour, a synthetic varnish was applied to protect the paint surface and mask the imperfections of the 1942 restoration. Since then, the painting, perhaps the most memorable in the Clark collection, had been viewed through four layers of varnish going back to 1873.

Varnish is pale yellow when applied and mellows to a tawny-brown with oxidation. This, augmented by ambient atmospheric debris, is what provides the “golden glow” of Old Master paintings. Museum-goers come to regard this discoloration as a patina of venerable tradition, and many are upset when it is removed to reveal often brilliant colors in place of once-muted tones. While correcting the picture’s surface flaws involved the relatively straightforward procedure of removing the old lining and replacing it with a newer, more appropriate fabric, what to do with the varnish was much more complex. The 1984 synthetic layer was easily removed, but the question was how much of Murry’s thick mastic varnish to take off. Cleaning windows exposed a starkly brighter painting than anyone was used to. As the old mastic coat was slowly lifted off, the nymphs’ Coppertone tans were transformed to blushing alabaster. The glow of the skin tones echoed notices Nymphs had received when it was first exhibited in the 1873 Paris salon. Of the four dryads, critic Jules Claretie observed, “the gloss of their skin could only have been obtained through long, repeated baths in almond milk. The [flesh] of the nymphs of Mr. Bouguereau . . . bring to mind pink silk, even more than the pulp of some tasty fruit.”

Removal of the varnish required consultation between senior conservators and the Clark curatorial staff. Tom Branchick, chief paintings conservator and WACC director, performed the treatment only after repeated meetings with Clark personnel to determine how much of the original paint layer to reveal.

The question was not merely one of the varnish, but also of the stability of the paint itself. Bouguereau created stunning visual effects through the layering of thin washes of color, glazes and scumbles that excessive cleaning might threaten. In many cases, leaving the varnish untouched was the most prudent way to protect the artist’s subtle passages of light and dark.

The removal of the old varnish revealed more than the painter’s original palette. The signal quality of Bouguereau’s technique, for both admirers and detractors, is its glossy surface, what one scholar called the “school of the invisible brushstroke.” With the varnish removed, this is no longer entirely the case. The cleaned canvas now shows signs of Bouguereau’s fine, controlled brushwork, and gives a powerful impression of the shifting, darting movements of his hand as he spread and blended the pigments.

This physicality animates the newly conserved painting. Beyond the obvious pleasure of four undraped females, there are additional visual delights. Light shimmers across the picture plane, leading the eye in a graceful dance of highlights and reinforcing the complex dynamics of Bouguereau’s composition. Charming details are visible once more, the silken hair of the nymphs, for instance, or the evocative brushwork in the vegetation along the pool. There is an area just behind the satyr’s profile, framed by the arms of two women, which was an indistinct gray-green smudge before cleaning but now glows like stained glass.

Nymphs and Satyr, surely the finest Bouguereau in this country, is for all its silly subject matter arguably a great painting. Now, for the first time in over a century, we can better see the painting as the artist intended. Critical reassessments in the past thirty years have ended the artist’s exile as an art-world nonentity, though his rehabilitation is hardly complete. Nymphs as it can now be seen is likely to influence this process.

Stages of treatment, from left: WACC director and head paintings conservator Tom Branchick removes stretcher tacks after protecting the paint surface with Japanese tissue prior to lining removal; checkerboard washing of residual adhesive on original support; removing

old varnish with cotton swabs and solvent; cleaning window detail revealing skin tones and sky before and after treatment; Branchick discusses treatment options with Clark Art Institute director Michael Conforti.


Feature

Conserving the Talladega MuralsHale Woodruff’s Amistad masterpiece embarks on a national tour

By Larry Shutts

In 1938, Hale Aspacio Woodruff (1900-1980) was commissioned by Talladega College to produce a series of murals for the college’s new library, then under construction. The library would be named for William Savery, the former slave who had co-founded Talladega College, and the college wanted the murals to reflect the struggle and triumph of African-Americans. Woodruff was thirty-eight years old and well-known in the South and beyond; he had worked with Diego Rivera in Mexico, exhibited in Atlanta, and gained a reputation for his frank, evocative depictions of the suffering and dignity of his people. The subject of the project’s first three murals would be a largely forgotten episode in the history of American slavery, the revolt in 1839 by thirty-five kidnapped Africans on the Spanish slave ship Amistad.

The uprising and subsequent capture of the Africans was a cause célèbre in the United States in its day. In 1841, former president John Quincy Adams argued for the Amistad defendants before the Supreme Court, which granted them their freedom. A foundation established to support the triumphant Africans eventually provided seed money to found Talladega College, one of the country’s leading institutions founded for the education of African-Americans. Woodruff’s murals revived both scholarly and popular interest in the uprising; in 1997, Steven Spielberg retold the Amistad story in a film that used Woodruff’s murals as source material.

The Amistad murals depict the three dramatic climaxes of the narrative, the shipboard revolt, the courtroom trail, and the Africans’ repatriation to their home country of Sierra Leone. Woodruff completed three additional murals for the library, one depicting the Underground Railroad and two celebrating Talladega College and Savery Library. The Talladega Murals have long attracted visitors to the college’s Alabama campus, and will soon be seen by many more as they begin a three-year tour to museums around the country.

Before exhibition, the murals were removed from the walls of Savery Library and brought to the Atlanta Art Conservation Center, the southeast’s largest conservation facility, founded by the High Museum of Art and the Williamstown Art Conservation Center. The removal and treatment were led by AACC chief paintings conservator Larry Shutts and assisted by conservators Michelle Savant and Thierry Boutet.

Rising Up: Hale Woodruff’s Murals at Talladega College opens at the High Museum of Art in Atlanta on June 9 and continues through September 2. From there it travels to Indianapolis and other major cities, including Dallas, New York, Washington, New Orleans, Hartford, Detroit, and Birmingham. Below, in excerpts from an essay in the exhibition catalog, Larry Shutts, Associate Conservator of Paintings at the Atlanta Art Conservation Center, discusses the artist, the murals, and the conservation treatment necessary for their exhibition.

T he conservation treatment of Hale Woodruff’s Talladega College murals was both a challenging and rewarding experience peppered with excitement, innovation, and discovery. Before the murals could be removed from

Savery Library, their home for more than seventy years, we had to perform extensive examination and documentation of their existing condition. The initial examination revealed that despite the lack of environmental controls, and despite having been on continuous display since 1939 and 1942, the murals were in surprisingly good condition, with only scattered areas of insecure paint, rolling canvas distortions,

and some localized damages. The murals appeared colorful and lively; we would not fully appreciate the extent of the obscuring dirt covering the surface and how it concealed the true vividness of the imagery until cleaning began much later.

The foremost intention of the conservation treatment was to stabilize the murals in preparation for both an extended traveling exhibition schedule and continuing long-term display at Talladega College. Treatment of the murals began in April 2011 with preparations for their removal and transportation to the state-of-the-art facilities of the Atlanta Art Conservation Center, an affiliate of the Williamstown Art Conservation Center and High Museum of Art. . . .

Upon arrival at the Conservation Center, the murals were unrolled, photographed, and further studied. Areas of insecure paint that had been protected for transport with Japanese tissue were fully consolidated, and the lifting paint was secured and returned to its proper place.1 Once the paint layer was stabilized, removal of seventy years’ worth of accumulated surface dirt, soot, and grime could begin.

The murals were installed shortly after their completion, without the application of a traditional varnish layer. Varnish acts both as a surface saturator that enables colors to be seen

without the interference of light scattering, and as a sacrificial protectant onto which dirt and grime are deposited. Without the protection of a varnish layer, porous paint combines with the dirt layers, making complete removal complicated, because the paint and dirt occupy the same space. The safe separation of one from the other requires an advanced level of care and skill. . . . A two-part cleaning system was developed. The first involved the application of a mild aqueous cleaning system that successfully removed the greater part of the surface contaminants without disturbing the delicate paint surface.2 What remained after the first cleaning was greasy, sooty dirt that responded well to a mild organic solvent solution.3 Cleaning progressed across the surface following the natural delineations of the composition. Cleaning each new passage began with a new round of testing, with each section requiring slight modifications of the general cleaning system’s strength or proportions depending on the sensitivity of the paint layer and the tenacity of the dirt layer.

After cleaning, the murals were backed with a secondary fabric, called a lining, and attached to custom-crafted wooden stretchers.4 The decision to apply a lining fabric and to stretch the previously free-hanging murals accords with the original

Opposite, The Revolt, the first of a sequence of three

Amistad murals by Hale Woodruff at Talladega College.

Above, Atlanta paintings conservator Larry Shutts

conducts solvent tests on one of the murals.


intent of the project to prepare the paintings for an extended, multiyear, traveling exhibition and then for perpetual display in Savery Library. The construction of the stretchers was difficult due to the sheer size of the two largest murals, The Court Scene at 71 by 242 ¼ inches and Opening Day at Talladega College at 69 ¾ by 243 ½ inches. The murals would not have fit into most museum elevators or hallways, nor would they fit through the doors and up the stairs at Savery Library. Working with the stretcher maker, we developed an innovative “folding” stretcher design that allowed the largest murals to be both safely transported to the various venues and to fit back into their original home. The stretcher design consists of a 2 by 2 ¾ inch “T” profile, with eight vertical and two horizontal crossbars. A 38-inch-wide dropout section of the stretcher allows the center portion of the canvas to be detached while retaining support at both ends. This removable dropout made it possible to wrap the painting around a large-diameter tube and to secure the now dimensionally wider but much shorter mural into a specially constructed shipping crate.5

Once stabilized, cleaned, lined, and

stretched, the murals were ready for the process of correcting the damages that had occurred during their years on display. The number of damages was small and mostly limited to paint loss due to water damage-induced flaking, small holes and tears from original and remedial attachment efforts, and errant house paint from architectural molding touchups. Canvas tears were mended and areas of missing paint filled to match the level and texture of the surrounding original paint;6 paint loss

was retouched using pigments ground in reversible synthetic resins;7 and to prevent future dirt and grime accumulation from penetrating the paint surface, a thin spray of reversible, non-yellowing synthetic varnish was applied.8

Several fascinating discoveries were made during conservation treatment, beginning with a pencil signature found on the reverse of Return to Africa mural even though the murals themselves are unsigned; the signature is not, as expected, that of Hale Woodruff, but of his studio assistant Robert Neal. In

addition, the tacking margins of the murals—the areas at the perimeter that were obscured by wood moldings—contain extensive passages of color testing that reveal some of Woodruff’s working techniques. Though based on comprehensive sketches, the murals were works in progress even after their installation at Talladega College. Changes to the composition made during execution have now become visible to us today due to the increasing translucency of the oil-based paint layers. As oil paint ages, its refractive index increases, rendering it more transparent. This natural aging process allows underlying, once painted-out passages to become visible once more.

The most exciting of these discoveries revolves around the Return to Africa. In the lower right corner, lying against the trunk at Cinqué’s feet, is an adze, a tool used for squaring up lumber or hollowing out timbers. When the lower molding was removed, we saw that a significant change had been made to the composition after the work’s installation. The adze, which begins at the molding line and displays a less-skilled hand in execution, had originally been painted as a long gun with the barrel pointing directly at Cinqué. The butt of the stock, once masked by the molding, is now visible. Additionally, now visible because of the old paint’s translucency are the flint lock mechanism, the barrel, and its strapping, all visible through a veil of paint representing the wooden handle of the adze. . . .

Early in my research to prepare for the conservation treatment, I gained an appreciation for the importance of Woodruff’s works, their beauty and their place in art history.

During the murals’ removal, it became clear how important these works were to the Talledega community. Woodruff’s murals are much more than just decoration, even more than superb examples of the art form: they are intimately tied to the heritage and legacy of the school. At one point, before the removal of the first mural, a student—one of many who had convened in the lobby of Savery Library that day—pulled me aside and asked a favor. He made me promise that the murals would receive the best of care, that nothing bad would happen to them, and that they would returned in better condition, ready to be seen and enjoyed by future generations of students.

Promise kept.

1. In-laboratory consolidation was accomplished using twenty-five percent BEVA 371b in toluene activated with a miniature tacking iron.

2. The initial cleaning system consisted of a two-percent triammonium citrate solution - a solution of citric acid in deionized water adjusted to desired pH using ammonium hydroxide - at a pH of seven on cotton swabs.

3. The initial cleaning was followed by a one-to-one mixture of deionized water and naphtha on cotton swabs. The greasy grime responded well to the mild organic component of the naphtha/deionized water mixture while the deionized water cleared any remaining citric acid from the initial cleaning.

4. The canvases, though robust, required additional support to remain planar. The murals were adhered to Sunbrella one hundred percent polyester fabric prepared with BEVA 371b on the vacuum hot-table.

5. A twenty four-inch diameter tube was used to support the section of the canvas where the stretcher dropout was removed. Additional strengthening of the lining fabric in the area of the dropout was achieved through the adhesion of 10-Mil Mylar® sheeting to the reverse of the lining fabric using BEVA 371b.

6. Tears were mended using Lascaux Textile Welding Powder 5060 (Nylon 12 powder) activated with a miniature tacking iron. Filling was accomplished using Beckers Latexspackel.

7. Retouching was performed using Golden MSA colors.

8. Varnishing was accomplished using five percent solids Paraloid B-72 acrylic resin in toluene and xylenes.

The final two Amistad murals, Return to

Africa, top, and The Court Scene.


Feature

Each academic year, a second-year student at the Williams College/Clark Art Institute Graduate Program in the History of Art is awarded the Judith M. Lenett Memorial Fellowship in Art Conservation by the Williamstown Art Conservation Center. The two-semester fellowship provides the student with the opportunity to pursue an interest in American art through the research and conservation of an American art object. This year’s Lenett Fellow, Zoë Samels, worked with a collage constructed entirely of entomological specimens, from the Fairbanks Museum & Planetarium in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. Ms. Samels worked with the guidance of Hélène Gillette-Woodard, head of the Center’s objects department. The project culminated in a public lecture and exhibition at the Williams College Museum of Art. The article below was excerpted and edited from that lecture.

T he tall tale of John Hampson goes something like this. In December of 1906, Hampson, a 70-year-old machinist living in Newark, N.J., was injured after

falling out of a moving streetcar. He brought suit against the North Jersey Street Railway Company, seeking $10,000 in damages because, he claimed, his wounds prevented him from hunting butterflies and beetles—a hobby that required him to walk forty to fifty miles every day.

Neither the veracity nor the verdict of Hampson’s supposed lawsuit can be confirmed, but the peculiar project of natural history he left behind evidences his claim of entomological

erudition. Over the course of his life, Hampson created a singular series of intricate collages assembled from tens of thousands of insect specimens he’d caught himself, each work illustrating a colorful scene of Americana. One of these works, Hampson’s General Slocum, was the focus of my Lenett Fellowship during the 2011-2012 academic year.

The scant information we know about John Hampson comes from a copy of an obituary clipped from an unidentified newspaper, which also contains the only photograph we have of him. According to the article, Hampson was born in Cheshire, England, where he was trained as a machinist. He came to the United States in 1860. During the Civil War and not yet an American citizen, Hampson worked in the government navy yards. He lived or stayed in thirteen states—picking up an interest in insects along the way—until 1877, when he settled in Newark with his family. He worked briefly for Thomas Edison in the inventor’s Menlo Park laboratory. When he died in 1923, his collages were found hanging on the walls of his small home in Newark.

If the fruits of Hampson’s labor were not here in front of us, a description of these works would seem as exaggerated as Paul Bunyan’s ox or John Henry’s race against the steam-hammer. Over a period of roughly fifty years, he created eleven strange shadowboxes from the bodies of more than 70,000 butterflies, moths, and beetles. Hampson collected these specimens on his aforementioned walks, armed with a net and a cyanide-laced

killing jar. It is tempting to frame John Hampson’s

reinterpretation of familiar American imagery, which ranges from portraits of presidents and war heroes to intricately designed flags and stars, within the constructs of Outsider, Folk, or Self-Taught Art. Certainly the little we know about him—his day job as a machinist, the excessive scale of his entomological efforts— resists easy artistic categorization. Like many artists whose work is termed Outsider or Self-Taught, Hampson used found materials, drew his subjects from existing visual culture, and kept his works private.

I found it most helpful to think about this work as it relates to American folkways – not only in art, but also in literature and music. Tall tales, blues songs, quilt patterns—these works use the vernacular to give voice to an invisible American experience. Cultural critic Greil Marcus used the term “Old, Weird America” to describe an early anthology of American folk recordings that served to launch the 1960s folk revival. Hampson’s work is much the same. I hoped that a closer look at General Slocum might help me understand Hampson’s vision of old, weird America.

Hampson’s collages piece together their iconic Americana with a kind of entomological pointillism. Though his insect specimens are largely attached intact, the artist did not hesitate to transgress the rules of scientific specimen handling for his own visual ends, often cutting through bodies and wings to get the neat boundaries between shapes that allow him such fine detail. His breakdown of subject matter is similarly fluid: beetles, moths, and butterflies are used for both representational and decorative ends indiscriminately. In all the works, he used the dark thoraxes of insects to create lines that radiate around the central images, infusing them with a rhythmic energy reminiscent of beating insect wings. When I first noticed these lines, I was reminded of Lincoln’s famous evocation of the “mystic chords of memory” that sound from battlefields and soldier’s graves, which he believed potent enough to one day rebuild a more perfect Union. Hampson’s works express this collective American memory, but the world they envision for the viewer remains mysterious.

Hampson’s entire oeuvre now resides in the collection of the Fairbanks Museum & Planetarium in St. Johnsbury, Vermont. Termed “Bug Art” by the museum’s staff, the curious collages came into the Fairbanks’ collection in 1977 through the estate of the artist’s daughter. Seven of these works are currently on display at the museum in two glass-fronted cabinets, sharing the alcove with a giant replica of a horsefly. Three collages: General Slocum, a portrait of George Washington, and an

abstract, kaleidoscopic design, are considered too damaged to exhibit. The Fairbanks Museum staff estimate that each collage took the artist three to four years to complete.

Hampson’s General Slocum shares its basic forms with the commemorative statue of Major General Henry Warner Slocum, erected in 1902 on the battlefield of Gettysburg. The visual parallels between collage and statue are many: in both, the General is on horseback, perched atop a white pedestal bearing an inscription plaque. Hampson also evokes the memorial’s placement within Gettysburg’s

landscape by including a pair of cannons located in the statue’s immediate vicinity.

Slocum led his Union forces in several battles in the war’s Eastern Theatre, as well as in Georgia and the Carolinas. During the Battle of Gettysburg in July 1863, the young general delayed leading his troops into the bloody skirmish, earning him the derisory nickname “Slow Come.” His statue’s inscription offers a more favorable view on his leadership at Gettysburg, repeating his entreaty to his fellow Union officers that they must “Stay and fight it out,” as the battle waged on

Pinning Down HistoryInsects, America, and the Art of John HampsonBy Zoë Samels

Above, General Slocum by John Hampson, after treatment. Opposite, Lenett fellow Zoë Samels at work on the insect collage.


WACC News & Notes

for three days. Hampson’s repeats this maxim in his portrait and crowns Slocum a “Great Northern Hero.”

Identifying Hampson’s subject matter laid the foundation for my examination of the work’s structure and materials, the first step in the conservation treatment. General Slocum is housed in its original pine shadowbox fitted with a matching frame. At one point in the work’s history, a roll-down shade was attached at the top, evidenced by visible holes and wear on the wooden frame. As the shade was lifted and the work

revealed, one can imagine how the viewer was transformed into a spectator, suddenly privy to a strange sight hidden from view.

The tray’s backboard is covered with a wooden pinning platform, which itself is overlaid with sheets of off-white coated paper. Where the specimens have been lost, you can see how Hampson gridded out the marble base section of the collage to guide his placement of the specimens. The butterflies and moths are held in place with thin entomology pins clipped close to the bodies, the wings lightly adhered to the coated paper with a natural adhesive, possibly hide or fish glue. The beetles are affixed to cut paperboard shapes in linear rows with shellac and sometimes hide glue. Hampson camouflaged these supports with paint or wax in corresponding colors.

To create the work’s large fields of color, Hampson arranged white and orange moths in neat lines. Smaller shapes, such as the General’s indigo jacket and his horse’s coat, are constructed from layers of wings stripped from their hosts’ bodies. The exact species of these winged insects resist easy identification.

Hampson used beetles of various colors and sizes to add decorative detail to General Slocum. The work exhibits at least six varieties of beetles, four of which I have been able to identify. Ladybugs make up the first two inscription lines, the

horse’s bridle, the cannon spokes, and parts of the five-pointed stars. Tiger beetles are used exclusively in the foreground, their narrow shape mimicking the green blades of the Gettysburg’s lawn. Shiny flea beetles, identified by their black bodies and reddish-brown heads, are used for the remaining lines of Slocum’s dedication, on the corner stars, the cannons, and the horse’s tiny hooves. Iridescent green dogbane beetles fill in the wheel and star motif along the sides of the tray and the cannon wheels.

The back of the work bears a paper label that is neither original to the frame nor part of the Fairbanks’ accession process, but is nonetheless a piece of General Slocum’s history. Dated 1938, it reads: “Picture made of butterflies and beetles collected and made by the late John Hampson in the year of 1904. The number of butterflies and beetles used in this picture is 9,751.” The artist’s other collages exhibit similar labels containing equally precise specimen counts.

General Slocum’s most visible damage was the loss of thousands of moths and butterflies across the statue and its pedestal, giving these sections a haziness at odds with Hampson’s usual visual clarity. All that remained was a field of empty pins, its ground littered with bits of wings and desiccated bodies. The damage was the result of a second-wave insect occupation, this time as an infestation of pests that treated the collage as a boxed lunch. While no active pests remained, their dried larva cases were scattered throughout the tray. For reasons unknown, the orange-hued butterflies and the beetles proved unappetizing and remained intact.

Along the sides and bottom of the collage, a number of beetles had come loose from their paperboard supports and collected along the bottom edge. The patches of exposed

adhesive and shellac they left behind showed signs of flaking, cracking, and discoloration. Because such a brittle support leaves the beetles particularly vulnerable to vibration, even regular handling of the work could have caused damage and had to be carried out carefully.

The work’s wooden backboards were unstable, having bowed outward over time. Such flexing can occur when boards are exposed to changes in humidity or if the grain of the wood is incorrectly aligned. Storing the object on its back, as happened with General Slocum, can exacerbate this problem. The flexed backboards had placed stress on the pinning board and coated paper, causing a two-inch tear in the paper immediately above the inscription plaque. Throughout my treatment, I was careful to always rest the shadowbox on several layers of foam padding.

Once the areas of instability had been documented, one step remained before I could begin treating the collage itself. Because Hampson used a variety of organic and inorganic materials, I needed to be sure that the adhesive I used to reattach the insects and repair the paper tear did not put the work at risk for further deterioration. This was a particular challenge given the dearth of conservation scholarship on preserving insects in a work of art rather than preventing or eradicating them.

I began cleaning the collage with a soft-bristled paintbrush, dusting each beetle body and around the paperboard shapes. I also removed debris, insect casings, or loose specimens from the work’s surface, paying particular attention to the bottom ledge of the frame. I decided not to clean the moths or butterflies because of their fragility, although I did dust the exposed entomology pins. If a beetle came loose during the cleaning, I set it aside and marked its original location. Across the statue and pedestal, I adhered any fragments of butterflies and moths that seemed in danger of becoming completely detached from the work. I decided not to attempt any additional liquid cleaning of the exposed pins or tacks due to the risk of corrosion. The only inorganic materials in General Slocum were dark glass spheres and beads for the eyes of both horse and rider and for Slocum’s buttons. These were cleaned with a solution of fifty percent de-ionized water and fifty percent ethanol applied with a cotton swab, taking care to prevent any of the solvent from bleeding into the surrounding insect materials.

The tear in the paper support could not be repaired with Japanese tissue and wheat starch paste, as originally hoped. The aging paper was too brittle and the crack too narrow for this relatively invasive technique. Instead, I brushed a small amount of BEVA adhesive on top and under the overlapping tear, just enough to lightly saturate the paper. A small piece of wet

strength tissue paper was laid on top to soak up any additional moisture and secured with a small weight. The collage was loosely covered and allowed to dry overnight.

The shadowbox’s glass front was cleaned with a solution of deionized water and ethanol and large cotton swabs. After drying. I repeated the process with a microfiber cloth. This completed, the shadowbox was reassembled and the change was striking. The rows of orange moths seemed to radiate out in frozen waves from the work’s central figure. Each insect was identifiable as a discrete form. Issues of stability aside, a good cleaning was primarily what General Slocum needed.

Like any good tall tale, the story of John Hampson leaves me with the suspicion I’ve been hoodwinked, both by the artist and the curious collages he left behind. With a folk hero’s confidence, Hampson placed his work comfortably between entomology’s rational empiricism, the mutable mythology of American history, and art’s mysterious draw. Attempts to locate a singular meaning of Hampson’s work get lost somewhere between his hazy biography, his orderly rows of insects, and his choice of iconic historical subjects. And yet, these moth-strewn microcosms continue to invite viewers in for a closer look, prompting perpetual curiosity.

When General Slocum returns to the Fairbanks Museum & Planetarium later this spring, it will be hung alongside several of Hampson’s collages in much better condition. It might seem a mistake to reinstall a work so damaged. Yet in some way, General Slocum’s losses are the viewer’s gain, providing a peek at Hampson’s working process. That this insider knowledge does little to damper the compelling weirdness of these works, that it in fact only makes them less comprehensible, is a strong argument for the inclusion of “John Hampson’s Bug Art” not only in the field of art history, but also into the canon of America’s tall tales.

Detail of collage, showing Hampson’s use of butterflies as line and color. Opposite, a butterfly mounted by the author to study the artist’s collecting process.


WACC News & Notes

A n ongoing educational initiative between the Williamstown

Art Conservation Center and conservators from Mongolia

continued as the Center hosted Nyamma Davgadorj for a

six-month residency in the WACC paintings department. The

residency, funded by the Asian Cultural Council, was part of a

multi-year exchange program between WACC and Mongolian

cultural agencies and institutions including the Ministry of

Education, Culture, and Science, the Arts Council of Mongolia,

and the Cultural Heritage Center in the capital, Ulaanbaatar.

This was Davgadorj’s third residency at the Center, and by

far the longest. Previous stays, in 2009 and 2010, were a month

in duration. The six-month period, from November 2011 through

April, allowed the 28-year-old conservator to immerse himself in

state-of-the-art treatment

practices.

“I learned a great deal

more,” he said, in diffident

but able English. “The

last two times were short.

This time, six months,

I worked on many

paintings. I worked on

many different paintings,

and many different [types

of] damage.”

Cultural preservation

is an emerging profession

in Mongolia. There are

no formal education

programs in the country,

and conservators

traditionally travel abroad for training. The exchange with WACC

was arranged by WACC paintings conservator Cynthia Luk, who

acted as Davgadorj’s mentor and supervisor.

“I’m very proud of Nyamma,” said Luk. “I was looking for

projects that filled voids in his training, so he acquired some

treatment experiences he’d never had before. I think by now,

adding up all his training over all these projects, he has quite a

broad spectrum of experience.”

His training in Williamstown has made Davgadorj among the

most experienced conservators in his country, and in one area of

treatment, the use of a vacuum hot table for relining canvases,

he may be its leading expert. Until recently, there wasn’t a

vacuum hot table in his country. The Center for Cultural Heritage,

Davgadorj’s home institution, acquired one of the tables, which

is a staple in advanced conservation practice, a few months ago.

But until Davgadorj arrived home in early May, no one there knew

how to use it.

Luk and Larry Shutts, associate paintings conservator at the

Atlanta Art Conservation Center, traveled in May to Ulaanbaatar

to provide Davgadorj’s colleagues intensive training in the use of

the new vacuum hot table. Both table and training were funded

by the U.S. Ambassador’s Fund for Cultural Preservation. A

supplemental grant from the Trust for Mutual Understanding

funded Shutts’s participation,

“Right now,” Luk said, “Nyamma is the only one who has

experience with the vacuum hot table, so that in itself puts him in

a leadership role.”

Davgodorj’s influence in Mongolian conservation and

preservation activities is likely to increase. As a result of his work

at WACC, he has been

invited by the University

of Delaware Graduate

School to attend its

Winterthur Program in art

conservation as a visiting

scholar. The invitation

will allow Davgadorj to

supplement his practical

experience at WACC with

academic theory and

scientific study.

The most dramatic

treatment Davgodorj

encountered during his

recent residency involved

a work by the eighteenth-

century British genre

painter William Shayer. The painting came in with heavy overpaint

from a previous restoration. In the course of removing the old,

discolored paint layer, Davgodorj made one of those discoveries

that gives conservators goose pimples. In a small, nondescript

section on the horizon, he found three figures that a previous

restorer had painted out of the scene.

“First I cleaned the sky,” Davgodorj explained. “Then I found

three interesting things. We decided to clean, and in cleaning,

these figures appeared.”

In the formerly blank place, two travelers, one mounted on

horseback and the other walking beside, have reappeared, a

small grace note restored to the composition.

“Nayamma handled the reconstruction beautifully,” Luk

commented. “There is texture there. He’s a very talented artist.”

Davgodorj bowed his head slightly at the compliment, but a

look of pride filled his eyes.

Mongolian conservator completes residency at WACC Reconstructing David DeconstructedThis intriguing sculpture titled David Deconstructed is a privately

owned work made in 1988 by the artist H. Lee Hirsche. The artist

created a whimsically intricate tableau that sits atop a wood

base and portrays the construction—or dismantling—of a bust

resembling Michelangelo’s David. The bust, made of painted

polymer resin, appears monumental next to the team of Lilliputian

workers, but the tabletop sculpture is only eighteen inches high

by fourteen inches in diameter.

The miniature construction site compels the viewer to take

a closer look as the scaffolding (populated with workers and

equipment) spirals around both the inside and outside of David’s

head, even spilling onto the wood base. Close inspection is

rewarded with painstaking details of industrious tradesmen,

ladders, winches, and real metal chains. While the scaffolding

and ladders are wood, the miniature figures and equipment are

painted plastic (with some metal details). A ground of coarse

sand completes the scene.

H. Lee Hirsche was born in 1927 in New London, Conn., and

studied under Josef Albers at the Yale School of Fine Art. Hirsch

eventually became professor of art at Williams College, where he

started the studio art department and taught for thirty-two years.

A talented and prolific artist, Hirsch created drawings, paintings,

and sculptures in a variety of media throughout his life. H. Lee

Hirsche died in 1998 at the age of seventy-one.

David came to the lab with minor damage and a heavy layer

of surface dirt. The delicate scaffolding had the most issues

with breaks and broken sections requiring repair. Cracks were

also noted in the bust that were not visually distracting but a

structural concern. The surface grime was particularly distracting

and thick in some areas as the owner was appropriately cautious

about cleaning delicate aspects of the piece.

Treatment began with gentle

removal of the surface grime

using a variable-speed vacuum.

Remaining soil was removed

with small cotton swabs lightly

moistened with deionized water.

The damaged and broken areas

of scaffolding were repaired

using dilute gelatin and a

polyvinyl acetate emulsion as

necessary. Some of the delicate

repairs were reinforced with

Japanese tissue toned to blend

with watercolors.

Cracks noted in the bust were

consolidated with dilute gelatin,

which did not affect the polymer

resin and fed well into the fine

cracks. Since the composition

of the resin was not identified,

the water-soluble gelatin was

felt to be safer than an acetone

or hydrocarbon-soluble adhesive, since certain polymers can be

sensitive to these solvents.

The client wanted a bell jar or domed cover, to protect David

Deconstructed from surface dirt while lending an appeal to the

sculpture reminiscent of works in cabinets of curiosity. Finding

a bell jar to accommodate the work was challenging; after an

extensive search a glass company was located that modified a

Pyrex vacuum bell jar to fit the work. The treatment and cover

returned David Deconstructed to a true visual delight.

—Lauren LaFlam

The WACC Paper Department recently

mounted Roy Lichtenstein’s Wallpaper

with Blue Floor Interior for the Speed Art

Museum in Louisville, Kentucky. The five-

panel screenprint was mounted on separate

aluminum honeycomb panels aligned to create

a seamless image almost thirteen feet wide

and eight-and-a-half feet tall. The mounting

process required weeks of careful preparation,

three paper conservators, precise math and a

steady hand, as the prints required trimming to

the final printer’s dimensions prior to mounting.

“This redefined our concept of the words

‘large’ and ‘teamwork,’ ” remarked chief paper

conservator Leslie Paisley on completion.

WACC paintings conservator Cynthia Luk with Nyamma Davgadorj.

H. Lee Hirsche’s David Deconstructed.

Williamstown Art Conservation Center | 1918 | Art Conservator | Spring 2012

Tech Notes, Spring 2012Report from Atlanta

Polish and shine for a surrealist sculptureAmong the many fascinating objects to have come into the Atlanta Art Conservation

Center lately, Ernest Trova’s Walking Jackman was particularly interesting. The owners

live in Atlanta, but this piece is located on the balcony of their Naples, Florida residence

overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. This led to some concerns about its final treatment.

Trova (1927-2009) was a self-trained painter and sculptor whose work aligned itself to

the American surrealist and pop art movements. He often based his figures on comic book

drawings, and commented that he considered his whole output a single work in progress.

Originally a painter, he became known for his sculpture. He lived all his life in St. Louis.

Walking Jackman is made of highly polished stainless steel. The sculpture is comprised

of six identical figures radiating outward from a solid base in the shape of a child’s jack.

The piece was thickly coated with what was most likely polyurethane, which had aged and

discolored; in places it resembled an orange peel. The coating had scratches, pits, cracks,

and was beginning to haze and delaminate in places.

The stainless steel on all of the base plates had pitting and corrosion along the sides.

There was also brown and orange-brown corrosion around all of the surface inclusions,

small metal bits embedded during the casting process. Areas of green corrosion were found

mostly around feet or on bases.

A solvent gel was brush-applied over the sculpture’s surface and allowed time to work

before it was reduced with a stiff brush and rinsed with acetone on cotton swabs. This

broke down the coating enough to facilitate removal with finer brushes and soft cotton

cloths and deionized water. Several applications of the gel were needed to fully remove

the coating. Each piece was given a final rinse with deionized water. They were then

solvent-cleaned twice using soft cotton cloths and petroleum benzene, followed by ethanol,

followed by acetone. Active corrosion on the ferrous screws that hold the bodies onto their

base plates was reduced using 0000 steel wool and ethanol. The screws were solvent-

cleaned and coated with Renaissance wax. A polishing compound was applied to the

corroded areas of the main sculpture with soft cotton swabs.

The owner did not want the pieces to be recoated. A big concern was that the metal,

which already has a history of corrosion, would be threatened by the atmospheric salt off

the Gulf of Mexico. Thus, a

final round of solvent cleaning

was not performed, which

allowed the wax in the polishing

compound to remain in place

and protect the sculpture. We

recommended the owners

polish it twice a year, and they

agreed.

—Michelle Savant, Associate

Conservator of Objects

WACC Staff

T homas BranchickDirector; Conservator of Paintings/Dept. Head

Mary Catherine BetzAssociate Conservator of Paintings

Thierry BoutetAssistant Conservator of Paintings/Atlanta

John ConzettOffice Manager

Kristan GoolsbyOffice Assistant/Atlanta

Hélène Gillette-WoodardConservator of Objects/Dept. Head

Hugh GloverConservator of Furniture and Wood Objects/Dept. Head

Matthew HamiltonPhotography Technician

Teresa HaskinsAccounts Manager

Rebecca JohnstonConservator of Paper

Henry KleinConservation Technician

Montserrat Le MenseConservator of Paintings

Cynthia LukConservator of Paintings; International Projects

Jennifer McGlincheyAssistant Conservator of Paper and Photographs

Leslie PaisleyConservator of Paper/Dept. Head

Michelle SavantAssociate Conservator of Objects/Atlanta

Larry ShuttsAssociate Conservator of Paintings/Atlanta

Sandra L. WebberConservator of Paintings

Description of Original Picture Frames on Watercolors by Charles BurchfieldBy Hugh GloverHead Conservator, Furniture and Wood Objects

The examination of frames reveals information about the tastes and priorities of artists, collectors, and society at large. Frames are a snapshot of the age that produced them; the frothy, intricate decorations of the Italian rococo period stand in stark contrast to the restrained aesthetic that marks English neo-classical design. A case in point are eight frames on watercolors by Charles Burchfield from the Munson Williams Proctor Arts Institute.

They were brought to the Center for examination and description in preparation for a future exhibition and catalog.

The eight frames held works created between 1929 and 1948 and ranged in size from the smallest, just under 29 by 37 inches, to the largest, 65 by 57 inches. The titles reflect the artist’s affinity for nature and the visionary energy his work: Sphinx and the Milky Way [Fig. 1], Flame of Spring, Apple Orchard, Country Blacksmith Shop, Lace Gables, Pussy Willows, Skunk Cabbage, and Village in the Swamps.

All of the frames are original to the paintings they enclose. Seven of the eight pictures were

in the collection of Edward Wales Root, Burchfield’s longtime patron and confidant. Root bequeathed twenty-one Burchfield painting to MWPAI. The frames are made of commercial, mass-produced rail stock that Burchfield painted off-white or grey, sometimes painting over existing commercial gilding. In some cases he augmented the frames with carving or widened them with additional wood strips. All the frames retain a plain appearance that occasionally slouches toward the rustic. Their simplicity, notes MWP director emeritus Paul Schweizer, makes the frames look “like poor cousins” beside more opulently reframed Burchfields in other collections.

In examining the frames, a number of criteria were considered:

Professionally Made vs. Artist’s Shop MadeThe terms “professionally/commercially made” and “artist’s studio” made are used to distinguish between commercial production by a mill or frame shop and work completed by the artist or his assistants. Relatively crude construction methods and materials are understood to be from the artist’s studio. The artist’s studio would have had access to a table-saw if it fabricated the liners on Sphinx and the Milky Way, Apple Orchard, and Flame of Spring.

Figure 1

Ernest Trova’s Walking Jackman, reinstalled after treatment.


Tech Notes, Spring 2012

Rail StockMost of the rails and liners are a pale hardwood, probably maple; the rails on Apple Orchard, Flame of Spring, and possibly Sphinx and the Milky Way are softwood, probably pine. The various profiles for the rails were commercially prepared with a spindle molder machine (shaper), where the wood was passed by a spinning head fitted with profiled cutters. Spindle molding machines were introduced circa 1850 and they were well developed by the twentieth century for accuracy and volume production.

Corner JointsThe artist’s studio would have received either assembled frames (with separate liners) or long lengths of rail stock for cutting to size and joining. It is quite possible that corners glued with hide glue were commercially prepared and those with white PVA glue were prepared by the artist’s studio. Apple Orchard has PVA glue and Sphinx and the Milky Way and Flame of Spring, whose corners are hidden, may have PVA glue. Consistent nail technique and hide glue in Country Blacksmith Shop, Lace Gables, Pussy Willows, Skunk Cabbage, and Village in the Swamps suggests professional assembly. The corner joints were all completed before paint was applied.

LinersAll eight frames have flat or beveled liners painted after assembly with matte white or off-white paint that contrasts with the color and luster of the frame paint. The liners on Sphinx and the Milky Way, Apple Orchard, and Flame of Spring appear to have been made by the artist’s studio since they are cruder and show table-saw marks.

ProfilesNo two frames are identical in their size or molding profile, however all frames, except Flame of Spring, have a rounded ovolo or torus top molding followed by a cove, and these profiles are similar enough to assume they came from the same commercial mill shop. The outer profiles on Sphinx and the Milky Way and Country Blacksmith Shop are the same, and the profiles on Pussy Willows and Skunk Cabbage are the same but for additions to the back edge on Pussy Willows.

ModificationsThe outside profiles on Pussy Willows and Lace Gables were widened by the artist’s studio with added wood strips (the first strips on Lace Gables appear to have been professionally added); their corners are shaped with simpler rounded forms. Apple Orchard has wood blocking for support, Sphinx and the Milky Way and Flame of Spring have build-ups for support, and Flame of Spring also has added strips to increase the rebate depth, all added by the artist’s studio.

Painted FinishesAll eight frames are painted, either off-white and toned and distressed (abraded to resemble wear and reveal color), or painted variegated grey colors and distressed (Sphinx and the Milky Way, Apple Orchard, Flame of Spring). The liners and the grey colors are matte, and the off-white frame colors are satin gloss, probably a period oil paint. The grey paint on Apple Orchard is water soluble. The extent of distressing the

Overall size: 64 ¾” x 57” x 2 ¼” Rail

width: 6 1/16”

Profile

Frame: Ovolo top molding (1), a

small ogee (2), a flat (3), a cove

(4), a torus (5); the outside profile

is a cove (6), a small ovolo (7), and

a small cove (8). Liner: Flat with

bevel at sight edge.

Paint Decoration

Three tones of matte grey paint on

commercially brass-gilded wood;

the paint is purposefully variegated

and distressed to reveal the three

paint colors. Liner: matte white

paint.

Assembly

Sections A and B were

professionally prepared moldings

with brass gilded surfaces;

sections C and the liner were

added by the artist’s studio. The

assembly of the frame parts was

by the artist’s studio, including the

piecing of section A.

Sections B and C are continuous

wood lengths to which twelve

lengths of section A were added

(three lengths per rail). The

corners of A and B are mitered,

glued, and nailed; the corners

of C are butt joined and secured

with corrugated nail fasteners; the

corners of the liner are mitered

and secured with corrugated nail

fasteners. The end-grain seams

and mitered corners on A are

secured with corrugated nail

fasteners. The frame and the liner

were painted before they were

fitted together with angled nails.

Flame of Spring 1948Overall size: 47 7/16” x 37 ¾” x 2”Rail width: 4”

InscriptionsTop rail, ink on paper label: W-61 Charles E. Burchfield Flame — —Sp — — [partly fragmented].

ProfileFrame: Small fillet top molding (the only frame without a torus/ ovolo top molding) (1), a beveled flat main profile(2), cove outside profile (3). Liner: Flat liner (4) with rounded sight edge (5).

Paint DecorationFrame: Two tones of matte grey paint over commercial brass leaf gilding. The gilding is barely visible. Liner: Matte white paint.

AssemblyThe two parts of the frame, A

and B, were glued together, shaped, and gilded commercially. The rails were mitered and joined with glue and nails. Section C was added to the back by the artist’s studio and secured with long nails from the front that were bent over on the back of C; the corners of C are butt joined and secured with corrugated nail fasteners. The frame was painted grey over the gilding and the paint laps onto section C. The liner was probably prepared by the artist’s studio; the corners are joined with miters, glue, nails, and corrugated nail fasteners. The liner was painted before fitting to the frame with angled nails. Section E is a simple nailed addition by the artist’s studio to increase the rebate depth.

Sphinx and the Milky Way 1946

A

B

C

1

2

3

45

67

8

1

2 3

45

e

D

A

C

B

Williamstown Art Conservation Center | 2322 | Art Conservator | Spring 2012

Members of the Consortium

Williamstown

Art Conservation Center

227 South Street, Williamstown,

MA 01267

Addison Gallery of American Art,

Phillips Academy

—Andover, MA

Albany Institute of History & Art

—Albany, NY

Alice T. Miner Colonial Collection

—Chazy, NY

T he Arkell Museum

—Canajoharie, NY

Arnot Art Museum

—Elmira, NY

Art Complex Museum

—Duxbury, MA

Atlanta Historical Society, Inc.

—Atlanta, GA

Bennington Museum

—Bennington, VT

Berkshire Museum

—Pittsfield, MA

Bowdoin College Museum of Art

—Brunswick, ME

Charles P. Russell Gallery,

Deerfield Academy

—Deerfield, MA

T he Cheney Homestead of the

Manchester Historical Society

—Manchester, CT

Colby College Museum of Art

—Waterville, ME

Connecticut Historical Society

—Hartford, CT

T he Daura Gallery at Lynchburg

College

—Lynchburg, VA

Eric Carle Museum of Picture

Book Art

—Amherst, MA

Farnesworth Art Museum

—Rockland, ME

Fort Ticonderoga

—Ticonderoga, NY

Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center,

Vassar College

—Poughkeepsie, NY

Frederic Remington Art Museum

—Ogdensburg, NY

Gershon Benjamin Foundation,

—Clayton, GA

Herbert F. Johnson Museum of Art,

Cornell University

—Ithaca, NY

Historic Deerfield, Inc.

—Deerfield, MA

Hood Museum of Art,

Dartmouth College

—Hanover, NH

T he Hyde Collection

—Glens Falls, NY

T he Lawrenceville School

—Lawrenceville, NJ

Mead Art Museum,

Amherst College

—Amherst, MA

Memorial Art Gallery,

University of Rochester

—Rochester, NY

Middlebury College Museum of Art

—Middlebury, VT

Mount Holyoke College Art Museum

—South Hadley, MA

Munson Williams Proctor Arts

Institute

—Utica, NY

Museum of Connecticut History

—Hartford, CT

Neuberger Museum,

Purchase College, State University

of New York

—Purchase, NY

New Hampshire Historical Society

—Concord, NH

New York State Office of General

Services, Empire State Plaza Art

Collection

—Albany, NY

Norman Rockwell Museum at

Stockbridge

—Stockbridge, MA

Picker Art Gallery,

Colgate University

—Hamilton, NY

Portland Museum of Art

—Portland, ME

Preservation Society of Newport

County

—Newport, RI

Rhode Island School of Design

Museum of Art

—Providence, RI

T he Rockwell Museum of

Western Art

—Corning, NY

Roland Gibson Gallery, State

University of New York

—Potsdam, NY

St. Johnsbury Athenaeum

—St. Johnsbury, VT

Smith College Museum of Art,

—Northampton, MA

Springfield Library and Museums

Association

—Springfield, MA

Sterling and Francine Clark Art

Institute

—Williamstown, MA

Suzy Frelinghuysen and George L.K.

Morris Foundation

—Lenox, MA

Union College

—Schenectady, NY

Vermont Historical Society

—Montpelier, VT

Williams College Museum of Art

—Williamstown, MA

Atlanta Art Conservation Center

6000 Peachtree Road

Atlanta, GA 30341

Alabama Historical Commission

—Montgomery, AL

Booth Western Art Museum

—Cartersville, GA

Brenau University

—Gainesville, GA

Columbia Museum of Art

—Columbia, SC

T he Columbus museum

—Columbus, GA

High Museum of Art

—Atlanta, GA

Montgomery Museum of Fine Arts

—Montgomery, AL

Telfair Museum of Art

—Savannah, GA

Mission Statement

T he mission of the Williamstown

Art Conservation Center, a

nonprofit institution, is to protect,

conserve and maintain the objects

of our cultural heritage; to provide

examination, treatment, consultation

and related conservation services

for member institutions, and for

other nonprofit organizations,

corporations and individuals; to

conduct educational programs with

respect to the care and conserva-

tion of works of art and objects of

cultural interest; to participate in the

training of conservators; to promote

the importance of conservation

and increase the awareness of the

issues pertinent to collections care;

and to conduct research and dis-

seminate knowledge to advance the

profession.

Pussy Willows 1936Overall size: 41 3/8” x 33 ¾” x 2 ¼”Rail width: 4 ½”

InscriptionsProper left rail, pencil: Leave width as it

is, cut length to 33 in. (33 1/8 exact)

Top Liner, pencil: Still Life

Bottom rail, pencil: Add stretcher frame (3/4” to show). Still Life. Cut for 25 ½ x 33 (25 5/8 x 33 1/8)

[rebate size]

ProfileFrame: Ovolo top molding (1), a cove (2), a small ogee (3); outside profile with two coves (4). Liner: Beveled flat (5).

Paint DecorationFrame: Off-white satin gloss with a thin dark toning glaze, lightly distressed, over commercial brass-leaf gilding. Liner: Matte off-white paint.

Note: The same pallet was used on the frames for Pussy Willows, Lace Gables,

Skunk Cabbage, Village in the Swamps,

and Country Blacksmith Shop.Carved DecorationTwo symmetrical hollowed file cuts at the end of each rail (3 ½” x 1 ¼” x ¼” approx. each) form stylized leaf corner ornaments, applied by the artist’s studio. The carving cut through the commercial brass gilded finish and the filed surfaces were relatively rough when paint was applied.

AssemblyThe commercially shaped and brass- gilded frame A was widened with added strips B and C secured with glue and nails, and filler paste was used to round the angles. The rails were mitered, glued, and nailed together, and the file carving completed. Surfaces of B, C, and the filed hollows are not gilded. The liner was commercially prepared and mitered, glued, and nailed together. The frame and the liner were painted before fitting the liner into place with angled nails.

5

3 2A

1

B C

4

4

paint varies; for example, the paint on Lace Gables and Pussy Willows (the two carved frames) is more distressed than the paint on Blacksmith Shop and Skunk Cabbage. The liner paint was not distressed.

The same off-white satin gloss paint type and color were used on five frames, Country Blacksmith Shop, Lace Gables, Pussy Willows, Skunk Cabbage, and Village in the Swamps; this group is similar in profile, wood type, liner, nailing, gluing, etc., implying they were framed during a short period rather than the seven year period of completing the artwork (1929 to 1936). Two of this group of five (Lace Gables, Pussy Willows) have outer-edge modifications added by the artist’s studio and the satin paint is continuous over the additions, implying the satin paint was also applied by the artist’s studio.

GildingFive frame profiles were supplied with commercial brass-leaf gilding: Sphinx and the Milky Way, Flame of Spring, Lace Gables, Pussy Willows, and Village in the Swamps. The gilded finish was painted over by the artist’s shop and the paint was distressed to reveal small amounts of gilding; the paint on Flame of Spring is less distressed and the gilding is barely visible. The gilding on Village in the Swamps has a red preparation layer revealed by the distressing. Generally, the earlier gilding is now more visible due to chipped paint.

CarvingThe corners on two frames, Lace Gables and Pussy Willows, were elaborated by the artist’s studio with simple carving using a rounded file or rasp to form a symmetrical pattern of hollows. The carving cut through the commercial brass gilded finish and the filed surfaces were relatively rough when paint was applied.

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