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Imaging rare, unusual, and intriguing objects at the Brown University Library

A Public Art Mystery: part II (Polygons on Triangle)

February 6, 2015 by | 1 Comment

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Polygons on Triangle, John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Library, Brown University, c.196-?

In preparation of the John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Library celebrating its 50th year this past November, Digital Production Services scanned many photographs of the building during construction, and after its dedication in November of 1964. A photograph of a large metal sculpture on the steps of “The Rock” piqued my curiosity, resulting in A Public Art Mystery: part 1. After reading the post, a recent graduate of the Public Humanities Program here at Brown commented that he could distinguish a large “C” on the center panel. Was the work by Alexander Calder? I searched the internet for an example of how Calder signed his monumental metal sculptures, known as “stabiles,” and found a signature and date from a piece executed in 1960. The signature is from a work titled Gallows and Lollipops and is, interestingly, installed on the plaza adjacent to the Beinecke Library at Yale University. Using my loupe, I closely examined the photograph of the work at Brown. The “CA” above the “63”, and the similarity of the signatures, convinced me that the sculpture was, indeed, executed by Alexander Calder.

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Detail, with boosted contrast, from photograph

I searched the Calder Foundation website by period, 1963-1976, and there it was! Polygons on Triangle, 1963, Sheet metal, bolts and paint, 289.6 (h) x 185.4 x 243.8 cm. But what were the exact circumstances of its installation at Brown? Was it loaned to the University for the grand opening of its new library? How long did it remain there? What were the reactions of the public to the art? (other than the serious contemplation and head scratching documented in the photograph), and where is the piece now?

Polygons on Triangle, 1963, Sheet metal, bolts and paint, 289.6 (h) x 185.4 x 243.8 cm, Courtesy Calder Foundation

Polygons on Triangle, 1963, Sheet metal, bolts and paint, 289.6 (h) x 185.4 x 243.8 cm, Calder Foundation, New York

I have been able to determine that from 2001-2003, Polygons on Triangle was exhibited at the Storm King Art Center as part of Grand Intuitions: Alexander Calder’s Monumental Sculpture, and in 2004 the work was part of an installation on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway in Philadelphia. Calder on the Parkway featured a group of ten black sheet metal sculptures and the 21-foot tall “Ordinary” that already occupied the site. The installation was intended to draw attention to the site of a proposed Calder Museum, a museum which ultimately was never built. In 2007, Polygons on Triangle traveled to Dublin and was featured in an exhibit at the Irish Museum of Modern Art that highlighted Calder’s relationship with Joan Miró.

A great deal of mystery still surrounds the Calder stabile that was installed on steps of the library. I have hopes that the curatorial file that I have requested from the Calder Foundation will shed light on Brown’s history with the sculpture, or perhaps the answers lie hidden in our very own University Archives, awaiting discovery.
Storm King Art Center, 2001-03

Polygons on Triangle, Storm King Art Center, Mountainville, New York, 2001-03

 

 

 

 

 

Photographing the Edwards Cane

January 23, 2015 by | Comments Off on Photographing the Edwards Cane

Shortly before we left for our holiday break, I had another opportunity to photograph historical materials and objects from the Brown University Archives. We’ve had a number of interesting objects come through lately as part of Brown’s 250th celebrations, and since we often are photographing books and documents, three-dimensional objects can be a treat to have in the studio.

One of the more challenging objects that I got to work with is known as the “Edwards Cane,” a cane that belonged to Morgan Edwards, an important figure in the founding of Brown University. The bottom of the cane is rounded and does not stand on its own; it also has an ivory head with a small silver plate bearing an inscription. It was important to shoot both the cane overall as an object, but also focus in on the inscription.

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Edwards Cane; full shot (L) and detail of inscription (R). The hole in the cane visible in the detail shot, just below the ivory handle.

Usually, when we are given more complicated objects to photograph, it’s the nature of the surface materials that presents the greatest challenge: oil paintings, for instance, that are prone to glare; or objects made of silver or glass, which require the construction of light tents in order to capture the details of the object without also capturing our own reflections. The Edwards Cane, however, posed a new challenge: how to adequately support the object while keeping the intrusion of the support elements into the image at a minimum. The best way to photograph it would be to build a support that gently but firmly clamps onto the cane and holds it at a precise position, so we could have the exact angle we wanted without damaging the cane. However, despite multiple attempts, I was unable to find any support mechanism that would support the cane well, not allow any movement, not cause any damage to the cane, and not be incredibly difficult to digitally remove from the final image.

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The cane with packaging tape support.

And then I found the trick. The cane actually has a hole running through it a few inches below the top, visible in the detail of the inscription. The hole runs through the width of the cane and is lined in metal; it’s sturdy, and at just the right spot as a center of gravity of sorts. It was perfect – I just had to find the right material to run through this hole to keep the cane supported and at the correct angle. After trying multiple types of rope, twine – even extra strong fishing line – the material that worked best was regular clear packing tape. When folded over itself, the packing tape leaves no residue behind on the object, and it’s possible to fold it in odd shapes as you go. This was important, because I was able to create small bumps on either side of the cane, which did not cover any of the object when photographed but did keep the cane perfectly in place. The cane is very light, so this turned out to be the perfect option for keeping it in place. I ended up using two additional, much more powerful tapes to attach the packaging tape support to the wall and desk of the studio, to keep the cane in the correct position (this technique actually allowed me to change positions easily, so I could angle the cane and capture the inscription without having to reposition the entire setup).

Once the support was in place, the rest of the setup was straightforward. I positioned two lights with umbrellas as well as a simple grey backdrop, and was even able to shoot tethered with our high-resolution digital back (very important in checking the focus, especially on the inscription). I was able to capture the front, back, and a few details relatively easily, only needing to move the lights and slightly adjust the angle of the cane. Adjusting the cane was not a problem, but I waited approximately two minutes after I made any adjustments for any movement I created to cease. The final images did require some minor retouching – mainly just removing the evidence of tape from the grey background. The result was a set of high-resolution, clean final images that show all the important elements of the cane, and further proof that no photography studio can have too much tape on hand.

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The final setup for photographing the cane, showing the packaging tape support attached to the studio wall and desk, the camera tethered to our capture computer, and a basic lighting setup.

 

 

A Public Art Mystery (part I)

December 11, 2014 by | 1 Comment

In preparation for the commemoration of the John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Library’s 50th year, Digital Production Services facilitated the digitization of a collection of photographs documenting the construction and opening of the Library. As I was producing metadata for one of the images, I paused…What was this? I’m pretty familiar with the public art on the Brown University campus, but this was a work I had never seen. I checked the University’s Public Art website…nothing.

Perplexing.

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Two students consider a piece of public art at the entrance to the John D. Rockefeller, Jr. Library, c.1964-69.

The number “3” is legible on the right side of the center panel of the piece – and before it, I imagine I see the ghost of a “6”. Was the piece perhaps created in ’63, for the Library’s opening in November of ’64? Was this piece of art on the steps to the Rock fifty years ago today, as a temporary installation?  Who created the sculpture and where is it now?

With many questions, and little information, I create an unsatisfactory description for the cataloging record. By crowdsourcing this mystery, perhaps the description will blossom with greater accuracy.

The Battle of Borodino

November 5, 2014 by | Comments Off on The Battle of Borodino

Detail from the Battle of Borodino.

Detail from Battle of Borodino. Steel engraving by J. B. Allen (1803–1876).

Just over a decade ago,  a box of prints depicting French battles from 1811 and onward was selected from the Anne S.K. Brown Military Collection for digitization. Looking back, we see that on September 13th, 2004, a print from this box was entered into our internal tracking system, assigned the digital object ID of askb000001, and was digitized.

Peter Harrington, curator of the Anne S. K. Brown Military Collection, explains that the engraving, by James Baylis Allen and printed by Gad and Keningale of London in 1850, is based on a large painting (4ft x 7ft) by the noted British Royal Academician, George Jones. Jones painted and exhibited numerous battle scenes throughout his career, especially those depicting the Battle of Waterloo, for which he earned the sobriquet ‘Waterloo Jones’. Here, Jones has captured a moment in the Battle of Borodino, fought in Russia on September 7th, 1812. Now part of London’s Tate Gallery collection, the original oil painting was probably commissioned by Robert Vernon and was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1829. The Tate’s display caption reads:

“The battle of Borodino was fought outside Moscow on 7 September 1812. It was the last action before Napoleon’s army entered the city on 14 September. Here, Napoleon stands in the right foreground, alongside his famous horse, Marengo. His cavalry commander, Marshal Murat, commander, is to the left. In the distance, the French attack Kutuzov’s Russian army. Their triumph was short-lived as Moscow was burned by the Russians and the French would soon endure their terrible retreat through the winter snows.”

Battle of Borodino by George Jones

Battle of Borodino by George Jones

The steel engraving, part of the Anne S. K. Brown Military Collection, was executed at the behest of the proprietors of the Vernon Gallery, where the oil painting once hung, and was published in The Art Journal on August 1, 1850 (vol. 12, pg. 308).

A decade ago, we would have had difficulty imagining digitizing, cataloging, and publishing over 25,000 objects from the Anne S.K. Brown Military Collection. And yet, on Friday, October 31st, 2014, a 19th century sheet music series featuring lithographs of uniforms from various countries was published to the Brown Digital Repository, bringing the number of digitized Prints, Drawings, and Watercolors from the Anne S.K. Brown Military Collection to 26,639.

For more information on the the works of George Jones, see Peter Harrington, ‘The Battle Paintings of George Jones, R.A. (1786-1869), Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research, Vol. LXVII, Number 272, Winter 1989, pp. 239-252.

 

 

Digitizing the “mirror with a memory”

October 7, 2014 by | Comments Off on Digitizing the “mirror with a memory”

As we celebrate Brown’s 250th anniversary, Digital Production Services has been asked to digitize many historical university materials. Some of the earliest photographs in the university’s extensive collection are daguerreotypes made of graduating classes, and I was recently asked to digitize two these: the class of 1847; and the class of 1852.

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The common reflective characteristics of a daguerreotype.

Daguerreotypes present several challenges in digitization, mainly due to their inherent physical characteristics. Above all else, daguerreotypes are by their very nature incredibly reflective. In this nineteenth century process, the actual photographic image is formed on a silver-coated copper plate that is polished to a mirror-like sheen. Depending on the lighting and viewing angle, even just hand-holding the daguerreotype may provide you with a clear image of the subject, or you may just be staring back at yourself. Additionally, daguerreotypes are often encased behind glass to protect the fragile image resting on the surface of the silver – helpful in maintaining image integrity, but adding another layer of reflection. In order to view the daguerreotypes (as well as digitize them) with any degree of success, you must control the lighting that strikes the object, and completely block out any object that would cause a reflection. Because lighter objects are always more visible in this type of reflective image, photographing a daguerreotype of any size requires surrounding the object with black foam, paper, or cloth that will help offset its reflective properties.

I approached photographing these daguerreotypes the same way I would approach any reflective material: by building what amounts to a tent around the object. Whereas with many objects (highly reflective silver with no printing, for instance) work best surrounded by white paper or foam core (or even semi-translucent vellum), daguerreotypes work best surrounded by all black. Black eliminates reflections, as well as helps make the image on the surface of the silver as clear and readable as possible. The most obvious reflection is often that or the camera itself; since I was photographing the daguerreotype reprographically, the camera was positioned directly above that polished silver surface. The best way to avoid seeing the camera’s reflection in the lens is to take a large sheet of black foam core, cut a small hole just for the lens of the camera, and cover the entire camera rig with the foam core.

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Daguerreotype, Brown University, class of 1852: The image on the left shows the camera (with its various wires to the computer and strobes) directly reflected in the daguerreotype; the image on the right shows the same daguerreotype with the camera covered by black foam core.

 

Although it’s possible to just use a sheet of black foam core to reduce reflection, I built a small rig to hold the foam core up (hand holding it myself could potentially add camera shake) and reduce any reflections from the walls behind the camera (painted a light neutral grey, but still reflective). These photographs show the supports for the foam core and the hole I made for the lens, and then the final setup for shooting.

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Additionally, although proper focus is always important, it is particularly important when it comes to daguerreotypes. Daguerreotypes were developed in 1839, and these older processes required much longer exposure times than what we are used to: a typical exposure could last up to a minute or more. Because of this, at the time it was challenging to keep people in focus because it was difficult to keep them still; as a result, it can be tricky to make out faces due to the motion blur. Thus, when digitizing, keeping the focus as sharp as possibly is necessary to producing a readable image. For this daguerreotype, I actually placed the object on several blocks of foam core to focus into the encasement and reach the image on the plate beneath.

Finally, both daguerreotypes are suffering from degradation and corrosion, common problems for this sensitive and fragile type of photograph. They will soon be sent to the Northeast Document Conservation Center for conservation and repair.

Historia de la villa imperial de Potosí

September 15, 2014 by | Comments Off on Historia de la villa imperial de Potosí

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Historia de la villa imperial de Potosí by Bartolomé Arzáns de Orsúa y Vela

Colonel George Earl Church (1835-1910) was commander of a Rhode Island regiment during the Civil War, an engineer, and well known for his explorations into South America. In 1912, the John Hay Library was left his personal library of over 3,500 volumes of economic, historic, geographic, and descriptive studies of South America. One of these volumes, an 18th century manuscript purchased by Church from a Parisian book dealer in 1905, is perhaps the most important item in the collection.

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Representation of astronomical phenomena from the mine of Asiento de Porco, Bolivia. January 13, 1553.

The Historia de la villa imperial de Potosí chronicles life in the Bolivian “Imperial City” of Potosí, once the largest city in the New World and home to its most lucrative silver mine.[1. Special Collections of the Brown University Library : A History and Guide.] The manuscript is the “primera parte” of the complete work and records the dramatic social and political unrest of the city, the incomparable riches of its famous hill, greatness of its magnanimous people, its civil wars and memorable cases. Potosí has been vividly described as a “riotous  and gaudy civilization” [2. Lewis, Statement concerning the contents of the « Historia de la Villa Imperial de Potosí. Journal de la Société des Américanistes, 1936; pp. 401-404.], “proud and opulent, pious and cruel, torn asunder by dissension.”[3. Phelan, The History of Potosi of Bartolome Arzans y Vela. The Hispanic American Historical Review, Duke University Press, 1967.]  Illustrations included in the manuscript portray the metallurgy work of the city, its topographical features, and historic events.

In 1965, in celebration of the bicentennial anniversary of the University, the 1,200 page manuscript was published for the first time in its entirety and in the original Spanish. Now, as the University marks its 250th year, we are pleased to announce that the rare Libro Primero of the Historia de la villa imperial de Potosí has undergone treatment at the New England Document Conservation Center, and a digital version is now available in Brown’s Digital Repository, as part of the Latin American Travelogues collection.

Prior to treatment, the leather binding was degraded and the boards were detached. The pages of the manuscript were dirty and many pages were torn, especially along the edges. The paper was heavily stained and marks in ink and pencil appeared throughout the text. Once the volume was collated and disbound, the pages were washed in a solution of ethanol and filtered water, and sized with gelatin. The fly leaves were deacidified, tears were mended with Japanese kozo paper and wheat starch paste. After digitization, the volume was sewn on linen cords with linen thread, bound in goat leather, and housed in a drop-spine box.

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Treatment photos courtesy of NEDCC