Vu Do and Lauren Horelick

Abstract

In March 2025, Vietnamese Fulbright Fellow Vu Do identified a Vietnamese kite in storage at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum (NASM). Archival research revealed that the kite had been commissioned in Hue nearly six decades earlier by U.S. Air Force Colonel Robert C. “Bob” Mikesh, who brought it to the United States at the suggestion of curator Paul E. Garber. Both Mikesh and Garber would later become influential figures in the emerging field of aviation preservation.

Over the course of a month-long collaboration with conservators, curators, and archivists at NASM, the kite was successfully stabilized and restored. The project employed systematic measurement, scientific testing, and targeted archival research to document its construction techniques, materials, and historical context. The treatment not only restored the structural integrity and legibility of the object but also illuminated the transnational story of cultural exchange embedded in its creation.

The rediscovery and conservation of the Hue kite coincided with the 30th anniversary of diplomatic relations between Vietnam and the United States, underscoring the object’s symbolic resonance as a bridge between cultures. Beyond its immediate treatment, the project catalyzed dialogue on the role of conservation in fostering international collaboration, the preservation of traditional Vietnamese craft practices, and the reinterpretation of museum collections through cross-cultural narratives.

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Mx. Rebecca C. Rosen and Dr. Sarah E. Noll

Abstract

This paper presents an evolving approach to the treatment of an enigmatic polychrome composite sculpture of a standing female figure, likely made in southern India in the late 19th to early 20th century. The materials used to construct this mold-made object were not evident based on visual examination alone, and changes made to the sculpture over time complicated both its interpretation and care. The treatment, shaped by scientific analysis and art historical research, aimed to harmonize the disparate materials and histories evident across the sculpture’s surface and structure.

The sculpture was brought by private collectors to the Conservation Center of the Institute of Fine Arts, New York University for treatment and study as part of Professor Michele Marincola’s course “Polychromy and Monochromy: Examination and Treatment of Wooden Sculpture.” Further technical analysis was completed as part of Dr. Sarah Noll’s course on instrumental analysis. Acquired in the 1990s, the figure was described to the collectors as temple decoration from the south of India. Because of the lack of comparanda, unknown factors in the object’s construction and history, and the courses’ emphasis on discovery and innovation, this treatment and analysis called for a creative approach that adapted tools and materials to accommodate practical challenges, bringing about solutions suitable to the individual object and the aspects of it that remained unexpected and unknown. The treatment approach was informed by technical analysis, including multiband imaging, FTIR and Raman spectroscopy, X-radiography, optical microscopy, and SEM-EDS, which shed light on the materials and techniques used to create and alter this piece.

The figure was constructed using a compressible papier-mâché-like material around a discontinuous metal armature, with layers of cellulosic material, textile, ground, and paint. Prior modifications and applied materials suggest that this piece was overpainted during its use life and used to make a mold to create additional figures. Such alterations greatly reduced the sculpture’s legibility and threatened its stability, and treatment involved deciding which alterations to keep or remove.

Structural repairs required creative clamping, cauls, and bracing to respond to the combination of a spongy substrate and sensitive surface decorations. The shape and composite nature of the sculpture complicated efforts to stabilize separating layers and to consolidate severely flaking paint. Surface cleaning revealed previously hidden details and a historic overpaint layer more consistent with the original surface. The painted surfaces were unified using a sensitive approach to inpainting, centering the legibility of the piece as a whole without obscuring the object’s history, in accordance with the collectors’ wishes and current conservation ethics.

The care of South Asian papier-mâché is underrepresented in conservation literature. Taking cues from the treatment of polychrome wooden sculpture, this treatment required adaptations of traditional methods for the soft structural material, changes in treatment material selection due to differing responses across the artwork, and shifting goals in consideration of new information revealed as work progressed. 

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Claire Curran

Abstract

This conservation treatment focused on a WWII-era children’s Mickey Mouse gas mask, the product of a collaboration between the Sun Rubber Company of Akron, Ohio, and Walt Disney. The mask was designed during the early 1940s with the intention of reducing fear by merging with a familiar and comforting character. The result is a haunting juxtaposition – part childhood toy and part survival tool that reflects both the anxieties and ingenuity of the time.

As public concern over chemical warfare diminished, the project waned. Only 1,000 of these masks were ever produced, distributed mostly as promotional items. Of those, only three are known to survive in public collections today, each in varying states of deterioration, making this a remarkably rare artifact.

The mask, belonging to the Summit County Historical Society, arrived in a fragmented and collapsed state. The rubber displayed both localized flexibility as well as significant embrittlement and cracking. With the mask were nearly twenty fragments that were both stretched, distorted, and in some cases completely folded over on themselves. Conservation treatment involved stabilizing lifting paint, and brittle, cracked rubber, careful reshaping of warped elements, and reintegrating of detached fragments to re-establish the shape of the mask. The goal of the treatment was to produce a mask that was stable, intact, and whole, while maintaining a conservative approach given the limitations of the material. With the completion of the treatment and the design and fabrication of a custom mount, the mask can now be displayed at the newly built Akron History Center, offering a compelling piece of material culture from the World War II era.

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Katharine Shulman

Abstract

Sculpted in 1778 by renowned French artist Jean Antoine Houdon, a plaster bust of Anne Robert Turgot has spent the majority of its life at the Art Institute of Chicago, tucked away and forgotten in storage, as it was considered to be in too poor condition for display. 

Several other versions of this sculpture can be found in museums and private collections around the world; however, no two are exactly the same. They vary in medium – plaster, marble, and terracotta – and in level of detail in the clothing and cravat. Compared to the other examples, our sculpture was in poor condition. While the bust and painted base are structurally stable with no cracks or major losses, the surface had quite a lot going on. A thick layer of grime was present across the object and the bust was uneven in both color and gloss. Traces of dark brown paint, once applied overall to make the plaster mimic bronze, were present in crevices and interstices. Attempts to remove this paint were undertaken over the years by various conservators; however, none were successful. A note in the object file indicated that in 1964, the object was spray coated with polyvinyl acetate AYAA in toluene, and a glaze of oil paint was applied for toning purposes. This likely had the overall desired effect at the time, but over the years these materials darkened and discolored, causing the appearance of the object to diverge from the artist’s original vision.

The treatment objective was clear – reduce the grimy brown coloration and glossy surface, and create a more homogenous appearance overall, giving the object an aged but well cared for and exhibitable appearance. After extensive testing of aqueous, solvent and gel-based systems, a multi-step cleaning protocol employing ethanol and pH-adjusted EDTA agarose gel was used to remove all materials applied to the surface of the bust and its base. 

While cleaning greatly improved the appearance of the bust, unfortunately, it highlighted large areas of loss on the base which needed to be addressed. Pressed for time and motivated to use something simple and easily reversible, mulberry paper fills toned with acrylics were used to mask the losses to the base. Other small losses and dark uneven areas that were unable to be sufficiently cleaned, were toned with Golden Pan Pastels.

This approach to treatment balanced stabilization with aesthetic reintegration, preserving evidence of the object’s material history, while improving legibility and visual coherence. The project highlights the complexities of treating plaster objects that retain vestiges of prior treatment, demonstrates the potential of gel-based cleaning systems for nuanced surface treatment, and highlights the use of cross-disciplinary materials for aesthetic integration. This approach and the conservator’s willingness and enthusiasm to tackle a challenging treatment allowed an important artwork, once relegated to and forgotten about in storage, to finally be shared with the public.

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Isabel Wagner

Abstract

The Bavarian National Museum (BNM) houses a finely crafted ceramic figurative representation of a parforce hunt, which originally came from the Munich Residence. Its maker is uncertain, but an art historian’s thesis suggests that it may be one of the first products from the renowned Nymphenburg porcelain manufacture – before it could successfully produce porcelain. Without losing sight of this perspective, this talk presents a summary of the technical analysis of the fascinating piece. The ensemble served as the centerpiece of a dessert table and dates to around 1750. It comprises 49 figures, including dogs, horses, a stag, and a carriage. Parforce hunts were an elaborate form of aristocratic hunting in which a deer was chased to exhaustion by a pack of dogs and killed by the most distinguished member of the hunting party. These hunts were primarily social events that demonstrated the prince’s power. Depicting a parforce hunt as a table decoration reflects its popularity and significance in 18th-century Europe. Table decorations were an important part of ceremonial dessert tables. They were formed from sugar paste in the court confectionery and sometimes painted before being assembled on the table. However, sugar paste did not keep well, so porcelain – reinvented in Europe at the beginning of the 18th century – was a welcome, more durable addition to dessert table decorations. The production of hard-paste porcelain was a closely guarded secret in the mid-18th century. Consequently, products of local porcelain manufactures showcased a territory’s technical achievements and capabilities. In 1747, Bavarian Elector Max III Joseph founded a porcelain factory in Neudeck Castle near Munich, which was moved to Nymphenburg Castle in 1761. Initially, staff from the successfully working manufacture in Vienna was employed. However, it took almost seven years, until the porcelain manufacture succeeded in producing porcelain. The Viennese staff was paid until 1750 and conducted numerous test firings; however, no products from this period are known.

To better understand the manufacturing techniques and materials used for this object, an art-technical examination of the parforce figures was carried out using microscopy, CT scanning, SEM-EDX analysis, and p-XRF analysis. The results show that the piece was made of glazed ceramic with an internal metal support structure, as well as metal and leather applications. The pieces were elaborately painted and further decorated with calcite crystals and metal flakes sprinkled on the surface. Examination revealed that it came from the same workshop as the figural depiction of a salt ship train, presented at the 2024 AIC Annual Meeting in Salt Lake City. This object is also part of the BNM collection, and, like the parforce hunt, a motif worthy of a Bavarian prince. These results can serve as a basis for identifying similar objects in the future, thus enabling the attribution to Nymphenburg to be verified or refuted.

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Elli Touli

Abstract

The choices a conservator makes reflect not only their own ethics and those of their profession, but also the ethics of the society in which they live. As conservators, we frequently encounter animal materials (whether as part of objects or as conservation resources), but rarely do we consider them morally on equal terms with humans. Jeremy Bentham, the founder of modern utilitarianism, famously wrote “The question is not, Can they reason? nor Can they talk? but, Can they suffer?”.

Peter Singer, another influential ethical philosopher, in his book Animal Liberation (1975) described this phenomenon, called speciesism, as “a prejudice or attitude of bias in favor of the interests of members of one’s own species and against those of members of other species”. He argues that this discrimination that most humans make against non-human animals, long reinforced by Western philosophy and Christianity, rests on the same bias as racism and sexism.  As society’s moral code is constantly evolving, it is not unlikely that future generations will consider our actions towards animals and the environment as immoral as we now consider slavery and colonialism.

Today, we recognize that conservation of environmental and cultural heritage are deeply intertwined, but the speciesist ideology is still deeply rooted in our minds and practice. We see ourselves as part of nature, and yet as the most important part of it. Not only do we use animal materials (such as glues) that originate from the suffering of other beings, or display zoological collections without the sensitivity we extend to human remains, but, more concerning, there is hardly any research or conversation on speciesism within the conservation field.

We need to raise the questions: Where and why do we draw the line between the species we love, care for and respect and those we exploit without hesitation? How did this animal object or animal material come into our hands and what environmental cost does it carry? Which alternatives already exist, and which do we still have to develop? Do we value respect for non-human animals more highly, or the historicity of materials? What are our moral obligations? And how do our choices of materials, or the narratives we construct around collections, reflect our collective conscience?

In the end, we may not yet have all the answers, but we can at least begin the necessary conversation. After all, we will not be handed directions on how to act, but rather the possibility of making an informed decision. As sustainability becomes central to cultural heritage preservation, addressing speciesism is no longer optional but essential for conservation to remain ethically credible. 

This presentation arises from the research undertaken for my forthcoming thesis, which examines the ethical implications of conservation materials through the lens of sustainability and the critique of speciesism.

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Ekaterini Malea, Evangelos Panagiaris Maleas, Iliani Panagiari Malea and Georgios Panagiaris

Abstract

The distinction between Homo sapiens and non-human animals carries significant cultural baggage: unlike Homo sapiens, all other animals are often considered insapient. This distinction implies that non-human animals embody undesirable traits, such as filth, irrationality, unreliability, lust, greed, and the potential for sudden violence.

As a result, we frequently—and often unconsciously—engage in systematic discrimination against non-human animals through “speciesist language.” This type of language conveys prejudice or negative attitudes towards animals, contributing to the institutionalization of social practices that accept animal abuse.

Moreover, the primary representations of animals in our collective consciousness typically include:

a. Animals as human property, which has historically been their main attribute.

b. Animals as symbols of human criminality.

In contrast to these stereotypes, contemporary social movements increasingly advocate for animals as rights-bearing subjects, equivalent to humans.

According to the latest definition by the International Council of Museums (ICOM, 2022), museums “operate and communicate ethically, professionally, and with the participation of communities, offering varied experiences for education, enjoyment, reflection, and knowledge sharing.”

Given that zoological collections, primarily consisting of taxidermied animals, are closely tied to colonialism and the depiction of animals as trophies for colonizers, it is challenging for these collections to align with modern perspectives on the ontology, needs, and rights of non-human animals in today’s developed societies.

Furthermore, the rapid advancement of information, communication, and transportation technologies has made images of various ecosystems and wildlife readily accessible to everyone. This accessibility renders unnecessary the artificial representation of “inaccessible” ecosystems, typically created using dioramas with stuffed animals in zoological museums and zoos.

So, is there a justification for zoological collections to exist today? The answer is yes, under the following conditions:

1. Zoological collections should be preserved as evidence of the museums’ history and theory, but enhanced with modern interpretive tools utilizing information and communication technologies.

2. Zoological museums must collaborate with and engage communities of activists, environmental organizations, and scientists to highlight critical issues like global warming, the problems caused by intensive farming, beef consumption addiction, and animal rights.

3. Zoological museums should reassess the design and management practices of their collections to prioritize sustainability. This includes focusing on preventive conservation and risk assessment with community involvement. They should adopt principles similar to those of archaeological museums, such as informing the public about the origin of their exhibits. Objects of unknown origin and those obtained through illegal trafficking should be rejected.

It is crucial to initiate an open and productive dialogue among all stakeholders, leading to a shared understanding of the position and rights of non-human animals in modern society. This dialogue will directly impact the ethics and practices surrounding the management of zoological collections.

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Lysimachos Polychronidis

Abstract

When one looks at taxidermy, not simply just as a technical process of conserving animal form but more as a conceptual tool to view and connect to the natural/animal world, one can get easily confused. The deeper one delves into the study of this craft’s origins and characteristics, as well as to the motivations, objectives and purposes hidden behind it, the more one comes to realize that taxidermy is definitely a more complicated subject than previously thought. As a practice it exists within a very specific worldview and is strongly interlinked with a vast array of concepts. One cannot seriously talk about taxidermy without making reference to a long list of subjects that include -but are not limited to-life, death, limits, surface, preservation, water, time, hunting, collections, decomposition, Christianity, trophies, colonialism, vision, museums etc. One could go as far as to convincingly argue that taxidermy -in its traditional manifestation- is in essence nothing more than a vessel for vanity and superficiality.

The matter of surface is of paramount importance when examining taxidermy as a concept. Vision is the main sensory system in humans: more than 40% of the sensory connections in the cortex of the brain belong to this system, a fact that proves that we assess the elements of our environment mainly through visual stimuli. The visual stimulus relies in nothing more than the reflection of light on a surface and as such it cannot penetrate and see behind it. This is something that can easily fool or lead to false conclusions about the content of what is being seen. A taxidermy specimen, especially one that is so well-made as to look alive (and thus real), is a good example of this potential confusion.  

Walking into a natural history museum – the principal place to come in contact with taxidermy animals- we will sooner or later stand in front of one of them. A label will inform us that what we see -most probably through a separating glass- is a wolf, or a bear, or a flamingo. This couldn’t be further away from the truth. In reality what exists behind the glass is neither a wolf, nor a bear, nor a flamingo. It is a representation of either one of them. This is a critical distinction to be made, albeit one that is poorly addressed, if at all. Ideally it shouldn’t be that hard for the viewer to not only realize that a real wolf, a real bear, or a real flamingo could never fit inside a narrow vitrine and stand motionless for his viewing pleasure, but also why. Animals are not just their surface. They are their unique smells, the sounds they emit, their complex relationships with other beings, the ways they inhabit their environments, the dangers that they face. Their oversimplified taxidermy mounted representations contain nothing of the sort. And although natural history museums pertain to an educational value, it seems that -to quote Lewis Carroll- they are places “where things are not as they should be”.

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Morgan Burgess and Sarah Lavin

Abstract

Two monumental Buddhist murals were installed in the Penn Museum Rotunda Gallery shortly after their acquisition where they remained untouched for the better part of a century. The murals were deinstalled in 2016 over concerns for their stability due to nearby construction. Upon deinstallation, it was noted that the panels of one mural were supported by three different methods: poured plaster, hand troweled plaster, and paper board. 

The current treatment campaign was spearheaded by a pilot study that examined the panels supported with “paper board”; their specific condition issues and completed an overall assessment of their stability with the ultimate goal of developing a treatment protocol that would allow safe reinstallation and long-term display. This project has involved a deep dive into the Penn Museum Archives, research into the early 20^th century dealer, experimental archaeology and materials testing, non-invasive non-destructive analysis, the careful treatment of large, delicate painted surfaces and friable substrates, and has afforded us the opportunity to host international colleagues. 

Like any treatment, we began with research and testing. Our research spread over several conservation specialties: sources in archaeological conservation, painting conservation focusing on reduction of coatings and overpaint, and architectural conservation with focuses in earthen architecture and painted surfaces. We looked at the available published information on the few known similar murals in museum collections and found that while the provenance and size are comparable, the history of treatment varies enough that most information was not useful for our search into treatment options.

We needed to test which conservation materials and methods would work best to stabilize and clean the murals. We created our own layered mud plaster “mural panel” and selected a variety of adhesives; we performed solubility tests on the surface coating, restorative overpaints, and fill; and as we’ve progressed with treatment, we’ve been able to include non-invasive non-destructive analysis into the scope of our project. As we move forward with treatment, we look forward to the continued possibilities of expanding on research and testing and future collaborations.

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33

Julia Commander, Michaela Paulson, Jennifer McGough, Luke Boehnke, Gillian Love, Erik Risser and Molly Gleeson

Abstract

Since 2019, conservators at the Penn Museum have been working towards the reinstallation of monumental architectural elements from the palace of 19^th Dynasty Egyptian Pharaoh Merenptah (reigned ca. 1213–1203 BCE). The largest structure, known as the Coronation Chapel, consists of a set of 30-ft tall limestone columns and gateway pylons, which were on display in the Museum’s Egyptian Galleries from 1926 until 2018. Due to building limitations at the time, the columns and pylons were installed at half of their original height and have never been displayed in their true configuration. 

In order to prepare for the full height installation of the Coronation Chapel structure, the conservation team is treating and stabilizing the limestone components and working closely with engineering, mountmaking, and rigging teams. At the outset of this long-term project, pilot treatments focused on mid-size structures within the collection of palace elements. These treatments laid the groundwork for scaling up techniques to address the largest pieces within the Coronation Chapel, which have been a primary focus since 2022. Prioritizing non-invasive and reversible strategies, conservators are combining traditional molding and casting techniques with new methods based on materials analysis and input from a variety of specialists. 

To facilitate both treatment and installation planning, innovative solutions for handling have been designed and implemented by fabrication and rigging firm Wolf Magritte, LLC based in Missoula, Montana. To fully reconstruct the large fragmentary structures, close collaboration between mountmakers and engineering firm Simpson Gumpertz & Heger (SGH) has been integral to creating holistic support systems. This talk will cover the approaches taken to scale up capacity, bridge varied conservation concerns, and apply collaborative solutions for this monumental stone installation project and how these approaches have expanded the disciplinary boundaries of conservation in the process. 

2026 | Montreal | Volume 33