Stieglitz and Marin: Together, Apart, and Together Again, Part 2

In this three part series, Conservation Assistant Caroline Hoover outlines the process of treating a photogravure by Marius de Zayas. Read Part 1 here.

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Marius de Zayas, Alfred Stieglitz and John Marin, 1914, Photogravure

This photogravure on Japanese tissue was attached in the top left corner to a backing paper with a European watermark so that it could be included in the Camera Work book. Due to the single attachment, however, the tissue had swung on this point from the back page and this action had caused creasing around the attachment. The backing paper was brittle and had many losses around the edges which left the photogravure vulnerable. In addition, both the tissue and the backing paper had discolored with age. Since the piece could not be displayed with the other seven photogravures by de Zayas in its present condition, the decision was made to treat the work so that it could be included in the set.

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Detail of watermark on backing paper

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Removing photogravure from backing page

First, the Japanese tissue was carefully separated from the backing paper using a Goretex sandwich and a microspatula. The Goretex sandwich softened the adhesive without wetting the paper. When the two papers were separated, the backing paper’s sensitivity to the ink in the photogravure was revealed. Both photogravure images, from the adjacent images in the Camera Work volume appeared on the front and back of the European paper.

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(left) backing page BT reverse, back print transfer (right) detail of adhesive stain

The backing paper was washed in alkaline water to remove any discoloration and acidity. It was then dried between felts.

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Conservator Caroline Hoover sprays the backing page before washing in ~pH 8 water

The Japanese tissue was humidified in a Goretex sandwich and then also washed in alkaline water to remove any discoloration.

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Humidifying Japanese tissue before washing

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Washing and drying the Japanese tissue

After washing, both papers appeared lighter in color. The European paper regained flexibility.

Summer: Black River Valley

John Marin, Black River Valley, 1913, Watercolor and graphite pencil on paper 15 1/2 x 18 3/4 in.; 39.37 x 47.625 cm.. Acquired 1926.

During summer 1913, John Marin spent the summer along the Black River in Castorland, New York, near the Adirondacks, painting the local landscape of the river valley and surrounding mountains including Black River Valley. His paintings during that summer were full of bright, luminous color, which Marin exaggerated with watercolor paint. Marin typically dated his paintings only by year, not by month or season, but his Castorland paintings are recognizable by a blue, green, and pale yellow summery palette. He used his penchant for transparent color, loose and fluid technique, admiration for cubism, and mastery of watercolor paint to create a beautifully abstracted image of the rolling hills and deep river valley, conveying the warmth of a summer day.

This work is currently on view in Made in the U.S.A.

People Who Work Here: Jeff Petrie

Photo of Jeff Petrie by Joshua Navarro

Photo: Joshua Navarro

Jeff Petrie, Director of Membership

So how hard is it to be membership director at America’s first modern art museum? 

I have learned in my various occupations over 24 years that with every job and employment situation come new and different challenges. The Phillips is a unique institution, energized by our director but also by all the staff who each enthusiastically use their expertise and do their part to help the museum thrive. What’s hard about being Director of Membership is the balancing act: I keep my ear to the ground for ingenious, groundbreaking membership efforts; I use the technology we have already and embrace the idea of doing something new; and I reinvent old ideas. Throughout the year I have to keep my eye on driving our membership revenue towards our goal, which can be tricky at times because so much relies on the popularity of special exhibitions. Simultaneously, I need to explore new ways to reach new people and somehow inspire them to become friends of the Phillips. The effort is daily and always changing, and it involves people.

How did you learn of the Phillips?

In 2000 I moved from Seattle to San Francisco, where I worked in the membership department of the de Young and Legion of Honor museums during the run of a Georgia O’Keeffe exhibition organized by a small museum on the East Coast I had never heard of called The Phillips Collection. My supervisor in San Francisco was and still is revered as one of the top membership professionals in the world, and it was an amazing opportunity for me to work with her for six years. In 2006 she left to start her own membership consulting firm. One of her clients was The Phillips Collection, and in September 2007 she told me about the opening in membership. I applied, gave the interviews my best shot, and was hired. Today a framed poster from that O’Keeffe exhibition hangs in my office.

What do people tell you about why they’re joining the Phillips?

Many people who join museums as members do so for the benefits. At the Phillips we recently conducted an in-depth, comprehensive review of our benefits structure, so that we could compare ourselves to other institutions like us. We deliver the best experience we can to keep members engaged, excited, and happy. Even more important, though, is the message of philanthropy. Our education department produces national programs that integrate art in learning. They connect with children here at the museum or at their schools in D.C. as well as far-off states. Our conservators take meticulous care of a world-renowned permanent collection. Our special exhibitions engage and sometimes even entrance, bringing a global conversation about art into the galleries of the Phillips. The Phillips is a gathering place for our community and a crossroads for visitors from around the world with tour books and cameras in hand.

Do you have a favorite artist in the collection?

In 1955 my grandparents moved into a new house in Chehalis, Washington, and they needed a work of art to put above the grand fireplace. One weekend they drove to Seattle and perused several galleries looking for a work of art they both liked. After quite a bit of searching, they finally agreed on a painting that reminded them of their favorite vacation spot, Lake Chelan, which is surrounded by apple orchards that line rolling hills. The work of art they found wasn’t actually an original painting, rather a reproduction of one. Still, it was purchased and placed above the fireplace, which became a site of much family activity. In 2006, when my grandmother followed by grandfather in passing, I asked to have the “painting” above the fireplace. If ever my grandparents knew who painted the original, or what it was titled, they had long forgotten. Fast forward to December 2007: at the end of my Phillips job interview, I took a walk around the galleries and was floored when I stepped into a gallery in the original house and there, above a fireplace, was the original to my copy–John Marin’s Tunk Mountains, Autumn, Maine painted in 1945. For me, it’s gotta be John Marin.