The Subtle Power of Paper: Conserving Paula Modersohn-Becker

It was Woman in Profile, Turned Right, the only charcoal drawing by the German artist Paula Modersohn-Becker in our collection. The decision had been made that before it could be displayed in the exhibition Paula Modersohn-Becker: I Am Me, it needed to be washed. Washing works on paper is a common treatment—I have washed hundreds of works—but I couldn’t help but pause. I stared down at the detailed profile, an elderly woman from a poorhouse the artist had rendered so beautifully in the dry medium of charcoal.

The folds and wrinkles on the woman’s face are depicted with incredible detail, signs of old age exacerbated by hard manual labor. The drawing reminded me of the photographs taken by Jack Delano when he documented life in Puerto Rico for the Farm Security Administration in the 1940s, capturing portraits of sugarcane workers and people living in arrabales—overcrowded pockets in the city where poor working families were relegated to live in makeshift houses with dirt floors and no water or electricity. I had handled and stared at those photographs for hours at the Museo de Arte de Ponce, where my interest and love for the field of art conservation started. They made me think of my grandmother, who raised nine children by herself in similar conditions.

Photographs by Jack Delano

Modersohn-Becker’s handling of charcoal conveys a sense of empathy and respect for the sitter. I couldn’t help but be amazed by how these small, precise charcoal lines came together to create a figure I found so moving.

Rationale for Treatment

The main issue that suggested the drawing could benefit from conservation was the severe discoloration of the paper itself, referred to as the “support” by conservators. Due to light exposure and acids from the mat, the color had darkened from cream to tan, causing the image to read flat. If left untreated, this piece would have stood out in the exhibition for lacking the sense of depth present in other Modersohn-Becker drawings.

As a first step in considering treatment, I carried out a thorough assessment of the work, gathering as much information as possible about the material composition. I examined it closely, compared it with similar objects, reviewed relevant literature, consulted with other specialists, and explored the possibility of noninvasive scientific analysis. Once I identified washing as a possible course of action, the second stage entailed testing the sensitivity of the paper and the charcoal. I introduced aqueous (water-based) and other solvent solutions in localized and discrete areas and observed how the paper and charcoal reacted to the exposure under high magnification. In the end, after jointly considering the benefits and risks of treatment, curator Jay A. Clarke and I determined that washing Woman in Profile, Turned Right was worth pursuing.  

Though a common treatment, washing is a complex and invasive process. Water is essential in the papermaking process, and paper contains water, which is what gives it flexibility and makes it strong. Water would help remove undesired substances that threaten the long-term stability of the work. But I also knew that when paper interacts with water in uncontrolled ways, it can lead to short- and long-term damage. Washing was acceptable in this scenario as long as the charcoal in this rare and treasured work from our collection remained unaltered.

The time had come to wash the work I held in my hands.

Steps in treatment

Instead of immersing the drawing in water, I elected to place it on a blotter, a thick, porous, and highly absorbent material not unlike paper towels. I dampened the blotter with a solution that keeps paper from expanding, as it usually does when wet, and placed the drawing on top of it. This allowed for the drawing’s paper support to be washed while minimizing the water’s contact with its powdery charcoal. If I didn’t control this interaction, the charcoal particles could be disturbed or moved across or into the paper, which could mean losing the fine and precise lines that give life to this remarkable drawing.

The blotter’s capillary action pulls the wash water from the paper support onto the moist, absorbent material. Notice the brown stain that corresponds to the shape of the sheet; it is composed of degradation products, which are mostly acids that form as the paper ages and is weakened by chemical alterations. Once the blotter had absorbed significant discoloration, I changed it for a new and clean one, repeating the process until the movement of degradation products to the blotter appeared less significant.

Once dried, the artwork was reassessed. Though blotter washing had protected the charcoal, there were some signs of uneven washing, resulting in the formation of what are called tidelines, halos that form at the boundaries between wetter and drier areas (the migration of discoloration stops when there is no more water to transport it). If you have ever spilled water or coffee on a sofa or chair, you are probably familiar with these stains, which resemble the lines you see on a beach. In this case they were due to uneven contact between the drawing and the blotter during the first washing campaign. So a different washing approach was considered. Given that the charcoal had reacted positively during blotter washing and seemed secure, I placed the drawing on a suction table and used a sprayer to disperse the bathing solution in an ultrafine mist.

The suction restricts the paper’s movement and limits its expansion as it pulls the mist through the drawing. It also enhances the contact between the drawing and the blotter below, allowing the water to flush out degradation products in a more even way while limiting the contact time between the water and the charcoal.

In addition to the discoloration, there were other issues that were addressed by the washing treatment, such as darkening edges near the window of the old mat, small scattered stains on the upper-right side, and the brittleness of the sheet. After washing, the drawing was humidified and flattened to reduce the undulations that had been present originally. Once the paper had dried, I also filled in some small losses with paper similar to the original in thickness, color, and texture.

Repairing losses and inpainting

There had been some small tidelines near the signature, the result of contact with liquid in the past. Once these tidelines were reduced through washing, I wanted to match the lighter areas with the overall tone of the paper. To do that I used a watercolor palette. But before I could proceed, I had to apply what’s called an “isolating” layer, which prevents the watercolor from being absorbed into the paper. This aligns with the conservation principle of making the intervention as reversible as possible.

With that, my intervention was complete. In the end, the difference was subtle. Not all change is dramatic, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t important. Sometimes it is what we don’t see that allows us to focus on what matters.

Before and After

See the “before” image by moving the slider to the left and the “after” image by moving it to the right. Use the zoom tool in the lower righthand corner to get a closer look.

reflections

It is no surprise that I ended up in this profession. As an engineering student, I fell in love with art history, and the field of conservation is a perfect blend of the seemingly opposite passions of science and art. A profession where failure could mean permanent damage to an object that holds tremendous collective value might sound terrifying, but I have always been a perfectionist. Failure both scares me and is not an option for me, and the meticulous nature of conservation work, especially when working with paper-based objects, is something I truly enjoy. Paper is stronger than we think, though it also offers little place to hide.

The same can be said of the profession itself. As a conservator, I have a tendency to want complete control over the process, even as I know that complete certainty cannot be guaranteed. Moments of hesitation and near misses are part of the path, and they allow us to grow. They put in perspective our assumptions and expectations but also enable us to fine-tune our criteria and the skills that allow us to pursue stories of possibility.

As stories go, this one had a happy ending. Primarily aimed at reducing the discoloration of the paper, the treatment also allowed the sheet to regain flexibility and will help minimize the potential for future damage. I like to imagine too that this work is now closer to the state it was in when Paula Modersohn-Becker finished it and closer to how it appeared to the woman in the drawing when she got a glimpse of how she looked through the eyes of the artist. On this paper, there was nowhere to hide. And maybe, like this paper, we are all stronger than we think.

—María Cristina Rivera Ramos, assistant conservator of paper, Conservation and Science

Paula Modersohn-Becker: I Am Me runs through January 12, 2025.

Sponsors

Support for Paula Modersohn-Becker: I Am Me is provided by an anonymous donor.

Members of the Luminary Trust provide annual leadership support for the museum’s operations, including exhibition development, conservation and collection care, and educational programming. The Luminary Trust includes an anonymous donor, Karen Gray-Krehbiel and John Krehbiel, Jr., Kenneth C. Griffin, the Harris Family Foundation in memory of Bette and Neison Harris, Josef and Margot Lakonishok, Ann and Samuel M. Mencoff, Sylvia Neil and Dan Fischel, Cari and Michael J. Sacks, and the Earl and Brenda Shapiro Foundation.

Topics

• Conservation
• Exhibitions
• Artists
• Modern Art
• European Painting and Sculpture
• Prints and Drawings