While I was teaching overseas on a Fulbright Award last October, my client, Kyra Hicks, informed me that a sculpture her family had owned (and that I knew well) - Elizabeth Catlett's "Seated Woman" - had set a new auction record for the artist.
I had treated that sculpture earlier in the year. Kyra is a granddaughter of the original owners, and the purchaser was the St. Louis Museum. This event and my experience treating the sculpture have prompted me to share some thoughts on collecting and living with works of art and the challenges conservators face in preserving these works for future generations.
Collecting and Living with Works of Art
During my first meeting with Kyra to examine the sculpture, I learned that the original owners, George W. and Dr. Ethelene Jones Crockett, were, like myself, Detroiters. George was an attorney and judge who later became a Member of Congress, while Ethelene was a noted Ob/Gyn physician. Over many decades they had become personal friends of Elizabeth Catlett, an African American artist with a compelling body of work and fascinating biography, who was gaining in appreciation at the time. Influenced by her stay in Mexico and revolutionary politics, Catlett focused on the human, especially the female figure. The Crocketts supported the artist through purchases over many decades, including the 1950s and '60s, when the United States government barred her from entering the country for political reasons.
"There was always art in my grandparent's home," Kyra told me. Their home was a gathering place for artists, activists, and intellectuals. A period family photograph from the Library of Congress depicts an informal gathering with Dr. Crockett seated at the organ, Rosa Parks to the right, and art on the walls and furniture.
Detroit's industrial prosperity in the first half of the twentieth century created a civic environment where collecting works of art was encouraged and celebrated. Occasionally, where the works were politically charged, they were severely questioned. For example, during my childhood visits to the Detroit Institute of the Arts, I encountered the monumental murals of Diego Rivera, the subject of much controversy. The museum also had smaller galleries off the side, where I discovered the bold sculptural forms of early American furniture. Detroit's architecture was notable as well - Frederick Law Olmstead's Belle Isle, Eliel Saarinen's buildings at Cranbrook, and also Mies van der Rohe's Lafayette Park, where the Crocketts lived, to name just a few. In both private and pubic spheres, such a rich emotional and intellectual environment resonated with many citizens.
A Conservator's Approach
Looking at "Seated Woman" with conservator's eyes, I was glad to see that it retained the wood's uniform coloration after more than 50 years of ownership. The Crocketts had prevented a significant source of potential degradation to works of art: light damage. Furniture and other wooden objects situated near a south-facing window develop a bleached appearance on the exposed side. This, of course, can significantly alter our perception of a work of art, and the damage is irreversible. A small split in the sculpture's base was visible, possibly the result of humidity fluctuations. These fluctuations, ranging from 15% to over 70% relative humidity typical in a modern home, can wreak havoc with wooden objects. Wood will expand and contract with the amount of moisture it absorbs, potentially splitting or loosening joins. For those reasons, museum professionals go to great lengths to regulate the light to which artworks are exposed and keep humidity levels appropriate and steady for each art object.
What concerned me was the sculpture's dull and lifeless appearance. A layer of dust, dirt, and minor discolorations hid the beautiful nuances of the carving. Although a wax layer had protected it for decades, it was evident that the piece required cleaning.
I addressed these issues by filling the split with a material that will expand and contract with the surrounding wood. I cleaned the surfaces carefully so as not to affect the patina. And I applied nuanced wax layers so that the multiple forms of the sculpture would "push and pull," producing a vibrant play of light and draw one's eye into the meaning of the object.
For those sensitive to their various meanings, collecting and living with works of art can add immeasurably to one's life, creating memorable experiences. Preserving those works so they can pass on to a broader audience and be enjoyed over a longer lifespan is also a part of that process. It is a process and an adventure that can be yours as well.
