5 Pro Tips For Conserving Your Art Collection

When a major museum receivesapainting on loan from a private owner, the first step is documentation: photography, examination, report-writing. But it’s surprisingly rare for collectors to do the same with their new acquisitions. Skeptics might dismiss the effort and expense of institutional loan protocols as a bureaucratic performance, done more to appease the insurance company and the lender than to benefit the art. Paintings aren’t plants, after all—why behave as if they’ll suddenly wilt? But (for better or worse) paintings have many more moving parts than the casual observer might suspect, and it’s easy to underestimate their capacity for change.

What is paint, anyway? What might look like a simple dab of dark red can actually comprise, on the molecular level, thousands of particles of metals and stones, blended with extracts from plants, insects, and animals, all suspended together in the delicate equilibrium of the paint film. It’s actually hard to say whether a painting counts as flora, fauna, or mineral. If an artist mounted vines and beetles and chunks of iron to a wall, this would be considered a mixed-media sculpture. But when tiny grains of the exact same materials are ground into processed seeds and brushed into strokes, this is reductively and misleadingly named an “oil painting.”

Paint is also dependent by nature; a brushstroke can’t hold itself up. Artists support their paints by laying them onto all sorts of planar materials, often fabrics, which may in turn be tensioned onto yet another structure (such as stapled to a stretcher). All of these multifarious internal organs of the painting—from the metallic dust within the pigments to the twisted threads of the fabric weave—exist in dynamic conversation with one another, as well as with their ever-shifting environments. The number of variables in play is daunting, even for professionals. Here is how a team of chemists, writing in Heritage Science in 2020, attempted to describe a painting: “a metastable, multilayered, heterogenous polymeric material” of “overwhelming complexity.”

What this means is that each painting is a unique entity, and that forecasting any given painting’s behavior over time is no simple, generalizable matter. Paint films that are still relatively young can have special vulnerabilities. Oils may take over a century to harden into tough, inflexible films, and the aging processes of acrylics are still being discovered in real time—it hasn’t even been a hundred years since acrylic paint was first invented. Dust poses a particular threat to still-soft, unvarnished paint films, since this grimy powder can become permanently embedded in impressionable colors.

Condition reports, particularly at acquisition, are a key tool for preempting irreparable loss. While any notes, however brief, can be valuable, the quality of the report does matter. Like an experienced consultant’s audit, a good condition report by a professional conservator is more than a description: It provides both summary and forecast, assessing the work’s history and internal material dynamics to flag its most vulnerable aspects.

And the more eyes on a painting, the better. It’s always a good idea to set aside time for looking at the works in your collection—during different times of day, alone and with others, from up close and far away. Appreciating your paintings and preserving them go hand in hand.

TAKEAWAYS

Commission a condition report with photography early on to create a baseline against which any future changes can be evaluated. Look at paintings regularly, and take dust seriously. Make sure any stored paintings are elevated on blocks or tables, not resting directly on the floor, especially in basements. For works on canvas, ask a conservator or framer to attach a backing board to the reverse of the stretcher bars (and handles, if necessary). This is a crucial preventive measure that protects against impact, dust, and vibration, and can even reduce cracking.

Should tiny paw prints left by a mouse and discovered within a composition made by Willem de Kooning during his early years of poverty be cleaned off? Or have the rodent tracks become a delicate testimony to artistic tenacity, a subliminal reminder to support artists at all stages of their careers? A Rauschenberg print used by Jasper Johns as a door within his home might have fingerprints along its edges. Do these residues of domestic touch amount to grime, or to an unusual portrait of the storied relationship between the two artists?

When a window or a pipe cracks, it’s bad news, a problem that needs fixing. But paintings play a more mysterious role than fenestration or plumbing. An artwork’s significance can emerge in sudden, unexpected ways, and seeming imperfections shouldn’t automatically be “corrected” to impose rigid notions of spotlessness.

Each artist’s work can have its own unique criteria. Mary Lovelace O’Neal referred to her paintings as “mixed-media” because she considered errant materials and creatures (“glitter, insects, string, etc.”) to be welcome arrivals, able to enter the work’s evolving spirit. Other artists want their surfaces kept as fresh as possible. But often, the artist’s directions are unknown or ambiguous, and require interpretation. In a conservation treatment, measured judgment can be just as important as manual dexterity.

When an artist’s overall oeuvre is affected by recurring, unavoidable alterations related to their process, these changes can actually become accepted as authentic, expected features of the works. Conservators familiar with paintings by Joan Mitchell, for example, will not be surprised to find extensive cracking permeating her compositions, an aftereffect of the artist’s material choices and inclination to push her paints to their physical limits. These artifacts of experimentation tend to be treated as charismatic rather than signs of negligence and accident. The cracks in Mitchell’s paint speak to her circumstances and intention, but mold spots don’t (usually) have much to say.

Knowledge of context is the most crucial tool for distinguishing change from damage. Understanding provenance, as well as the how, where, when, and why behind an artist’s decision-making, can protect marks of process and other meaningful irregularities from insensitive erasure.

TAKEAWAYS

Choose conservators who specialize in the type of paintings you collect—a Pollock shouldn’t be approached in the same way as a Rubens. Ideally, the conservator will have prior experience with the specific artists in your collection. If possible, research or talk with the artist, fabricator, foundation/estate, or gallery, and try to record any pertinent information on how the work is meant to be preserved.

Awareness is everything. Evenwhen paintings stay in one place, they are subject to a small universe of fluctuating conditions—from the patterned trajectory of light in a room over the course of days and of seasons, to invisible currents of dust-laden air, to the distribution of windows, vents, and skylights.

But the situation to really watch closely is transit. Most insurance claims are made in response to damage incurred while paintings are being installed, de-installed, or moved. Best practice is usually a matter of carefulness and common sense: Don’t try to carry big things by yourself; clutter is always a hazard. Also, it’s essential that the individuals lifting and packing the art know what they’re doing: Art handling requires deep knowledge of many kinds of materials across an infinite turnstile of scenarios, not to mention the ability to think three steps ahead. As with any craft, such skills are developed only with experience. Hubs like New York City are home to some of the best art handlers in the world, but markets of this size may also have a wide variety of expertise levels among—and within—firms.

Paintings are meant to be seen and lived with, and this reality can make accidents unavoidable. Frequently, though, the most challenging problems aren’t caused by the accident itself, but rather the panicked mistakes that follow in its wake: for example, rubbing at a painting’s surface to remove a stain before anyone notices, or applying Elmer’s glue to a tear. When disaster strikes, it’s important to document with photos. Next, if possible, step away. An accident’s witness is also the person least likely to address the damage wisely.

TAKEAWAYS

When choosing a location for a painting, be aware of its environment—consider the path of the sun, and don’t hang works in bathrooms or above heat sources or vents. Usually, it’s best to pause and refrain from handling a damaged work in an accident’s aftermath. Remember to gather up any paint chips and save them: Large fragments are upsetting to see, but are actually much easier for a conservator to re-adhere to the painting than tiny flakes. The American Institute for Conservation, Canadian Conservation Institute, and National Park Service all have online resources for navigating common emergencies. When a painting has to be transported, experienced assistance and rehearsal are key: Know where you’re going, with rest points along the way if needed. Label containers that have art inside them, try to keep packing materials from touching the painting’s surface, and make sure not to schedule demanding tasks for Friday afternoons.

Anxiety over restoration has a long history. Already in ancient Rome, the writer Pliny the Elder described a painting damaged by seawater that no one dared to repair out of reverence for the artist who made it. In the present day, even artists themselves may hesitate to rework their own finished paintings for fear of “breaking the seal” and disrupting settled balances of colors, gloss, and texture.

But as John Brealey, former head of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s paintings conservation department, famously said, “The way the painting looks is the painting.” If an area of damage catches your eye before the actual composition, your painting has essentially lost its identity. Even tiny losses can have a surprising power to undermine a work’s coherence, just as when a stain on a white shirt becomes all you can see.

Good conservators will integrate distracting loss using materials compositionally different from the original, to allow for the future removal of the inpainting (for example, watercolors might be used on loss in an oil painting). But even the most refined efforts, hidden from the naked eye, can leave behind traces visible under ultraviolet light, which may then be unfairly judged as stains on the painting’s otherwise pristine surface. It’s important to remember that the culprit responsible for the initial rupture was the damage event, not the care that was subsequently taken to remedy the injury.

The degree of intervention is always flexible. Just as there’s no “right” way to make art, there’s often no single “correct” solution for damage. A single, minimal first step can be taken, and then the painting can be reassessed to see if further steps are needed. Every conservation treatment is a dialogue. And, when circumstances align, magic may not be entirely out of reach. Tears and holes can never be erased completely, but there is more room for wizardry when it comes to scuffs and drips, flyspecks and grime layers and undulating canvases. With the right approach, these problems can sometimes disappear as if they were never there.

However, despite its hold over the mainstream art market, immaculateness is not the only desirable outcome for a work of art. There is a flip side to the ancient ideal of a painting kept in untouched perfection—a painting’s significance can also, counterintuitively, be deepened over time through being restored over and over again.

Consider The Night Watch (1642). It’s not only because of Rembrandt’s artistry that this painting is now celebrated as a masterpiece. As conservator Esther van Duijn and curator Jan Piet Filedt Kok have suggested, the reputation of Night Watch is also due in part to how the perennial degradation of the painting’s varnishes triggered a sequence of high-profile restorations. One generation after the next witnessed Rembrandt’s figures being raised out from under dark and discolored coatings, a revelatory process that repeatedly pulled new audiences into the enchantments of the work.

Paintings may be tangible things, but their value is not contained in their materials alone. Cultural significance begins with the relationships that develop between people and artworks, and conservation processes are always entwined with such attachments. As every work on a conservator’s easel matters to someone, repair will invariably affect more than a painting’s physical form.

TAKEAWAYS

The stability of the work (e.g. whether paint is falling off) is the most important factor; beyond this, a conservation treatment is a series of choices that are best made one step at a time. Investment in a painting’s care can also yield unexpected benefits, creating occasions for the work to be appreciated anew.

Even the best-prepared steward of a collection may occasionally be faced with condition problems that feel insurmountable. For example, right now there is no perfect solution for a shiny burnish on a black Minimalist painting, or dirt deposits on paint so sensitive that even a gentle touch disturbs the surface texture.

But time brings changes to more than just painting materials. One exciting line of conservation research involves atomic oxygen, a highly reactive gas found in outer space and in the Earth’s upper atmosphere, where these special atoms occasionally become visible as the green rays of the aurora borealis. Atomic oxygen can essentially vaporize particles of soot caught in paint films—meaning that, if a fire-damaged painting were somehow dropped into one of the aurora’s green curtains, the artwork might very well become cleaner as it fell.

TAKEAWAYS

There’s no way to know what’s coming next, so sometimes the best solution is to wait and see.