[published in “Painted Wood: History and Conservation”, Proceedings from the Symposium Organized by the Wooden Artifacts Group of the American Institute for Conservation of Historic and Artistic Works, Williamsburg, Virginia, November 1994]
Painted Memory, Painted Totems
Map of Northwest Coast: northern Washington State; British Columbia, Canada; and southeast Alaska.
Detail of Raven Pole 6, Klawock, Alaska. The poor condition of paint is recorded in an examination report of 8 July 1994. This condition reflects the overall state of preservation at the Totem Park in Klawock, Alaska.
Totem Bight, a park managed by the Alaska State Parks, located just north of Ketchikan.
Meaning and Memory
The Nimpkish Burial Grounds at Alert Bay, British Columbia. Decisions remain to be made about the preservation of the memorial poles in the cemetery.
A reproduction Blackfish and Brown Bear pole, Klawock, Alaska. Note the paint deterioration and the plant growth on the surface.
The Totem Park at Klawock, Alaska.
History of Totem Pole Conservation
Conservation Ethics in Conflict
The McLennan Infrared Technique
Materials and Suppliers
TOTEM POLES of the Pacific Northwest are unique, monumental carved wooden sculptures—the most outstanding evidence of the sophisticated, dynamic people who inhabit the coastal regions from northern Washington State, through British Columbia, to southeast Alaska (Fig. 1). The carving and raising of totem poles has taken place for at least two hundred years, and possibly over five hundred. The origin of their history as wooden objects is obscure; even the rot-resistant western red cedar, commonly used for totem poles, deteriorates rapidly in the relatively warm, moist climate. However, archaeological evidence indicates that the indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest were felling and splitting trees into planks with sophisticated tools and techniques hundreds of years before the arrival of the Russian, Spanish, or British explorers.
Only a finite number of historic totem poles remains. In the village of Hydaburg on Prince of Wales Island (southeast Alaska), there is a park with twenty totem poles. They are Northern Haida, or Kaigani, poles which were collected from their original locations in abandoned, remote coastal villages and brought to Hydaburg and restored under a Works Project Administration Civilian Conservation Corps (WPA-CCC) project in the 1930s. In Klawock, farther north on Prince of Wales Island, only twenty-one Tlingit poles remain. Of these, two have fallen and broken. These poles were also collected from remote coastal villages from around Prince of Wales Island and brought to the new cannery town of Klawock. They are currently in poor condition. Figure 2 reveals flaking paint and deteriorated wood of Raven Pole 6.
In Ketchikan, there are three collections of totem poles. One collection, partly housed indoors at the Totem Heritage Center of the city’s Museum Department, includes thirty-three important totem poles collected from the surrounding region. Newer poles, by artists Dempsey Bob and Nathan Jackson, stand in public sites outdoors. The Dempsey Bob totem pole in front of Ketchikan’s library depicts Raven stealing the sun. The Nathan Jackson pole at the Totem Heritage Center tells the story of Fog Woman and the first salmon. The other Alaskan totem pole sites at Saxman and Totem Bight are outdoor parks. At Totem Bight (Fig. 3), a state park, there is a pole carved (1947) by Haida artist John Wallace, who was the head carver of the Civilian Conservation Corps restoration project in Hydaburg. These poles are now maintained by Alaska State Parks.
Throughout the Pacific Northwest of Canada also, only a finite number of historic poles remains, generally in very poor condition. Currently, the poles in the Alert Bay Burial Grounds on Cormorant Island (Fig. 4), are actually out-of-bounds for any form of intervention. Even the action of photographing the poles requires permission from the chief of the band.
There are significant collections at the University of British Columbia Museum of Anthropology in Vancouver and at the Royal British Columbia Museum in Victoria, and smaller collections in other communities throughout British Columbia and in the state of Washington. Totem poles have been sent as gifts to cities and nations in other parts of the world as ambassadors of the native culture, but the total number of historic poles in the world is small and, all too frequently, another one falls and disappears from the record.
In anthropological terms, totem poles are visible proof of family lineages. They document the origins of legends or memorable adventures and declare the rights and privileges of their owners. In the linguistically diverse oral cultures of the Pacific Northwest, they served as referent memory—history carved in wood.
Memorial poles and mortuary poles are both directly concerned with memory. The memorial monument is a category of historic object that is charged with ethical issues. Gravestones, commemorative monuments, and war memorials are surrounded with issues concerning their commission, dedication, and preservation; totem poles have similar characteristics. Although they contain symbolic adaptations of spiritual Figures embodied in bird, animal, and mythical Figures—often with some human characteristics (Fig. 5)—they nevertheless embody the function of memory in their representations of events and stories of the past.
Contemporary poles often have new, nontraditional images that depict modern cultural issues and events, but the contemporary concepts of carvers are still based on the traditional themes and format of the historic
poles. The contemporary poles refer back to the historical art of the past and therefore are also preserving the memory of this past artistic style, while continuing to fulfill the function of the story. The telling of a story that was completed in the past continues to evolve from its completion; the history continues to become history.
Social scientists currently are developing important new theories about memory in the area of psychological and sociological research. It is important, in a similar way, to seriously consider and study the role of conservation treatments in relation to memory and the validity of history. After all, memory is considered to be of such import because of the belief in history’s value.
Although it is known that some poles were not painted, many of the historical poles were at least partially painted originally. Investigations have revealed that some of these were later overpainted entirely. Other poles were entirely painted at the time they were created (Fig. 4). Without careful analysis, misunderstanding about the original painted decoration can lead to incorrect identification. For instance, totem poles in Klawock were moved there from historic village sites, and then restored (Fig. 6). The techniques of restoration included adding new wood to deteriorated areas, followed by recarving and repainting. Since the alterations were not documented, it is now extremely difficult to determine which parts of the poles might be original. It is believed that the poles at Ninstints World Heritage Site were never painted, and it is known that a group of three twenty-fiveyear- old K’san poles, owned by the Vancouver Museum and located out-ofdoors in Vancouver, were never painted. However, paint applied to a carved motif enhances the imagery and creative meaning. A Tlingit bear pole from Tongass Island, now located in Ketchikan, reveals traces of early paint that, having never been restored, provides evidence of the effects of weathering on nineteenth-century paint. The painted surface has not been treated, other than a surface dry cleaning, carried out in 1988 by the author.
Paint has both symbolic reference and decorative purpose in telling the story of the totem pole. The meanings and associations of paint on totems are known by anthropologists and have been recorded from oral traditions
among the carvers and artists of the Pacific Northwest. Edward L. Keithahn (1945:76) reports that “totem poles were painted with a type of fish-egg tempera, consisting of a mineral pigment mixed with a mordant of fresh salmon eggs and saliva. The colors originally were red, black, and green or blue. The red was obtained from hematite, the black from graphite and carbon, and green/blue from various copper ores common in the region.” Each color has a place in the history of totem pole manufacture.
The formulation and physical qualities of the paint give an indication of its age. The early paints made from earth and mineral colors, with salmon roe and saliva as binders, were used at around the same time as were organic colors from berries, bark, or blood. Examples of old paint can be found, weathered but unchanged by intervention, in museum collections worldwide. Paint was a very early trade item on the Northwest Coast. Around the end of the nineteenth century, commercial paints were introduced when industrial fish packing companies moved into the region.
The mild, wet climate of the Northwest Coast does not permit a very long lifetime for paint films. During the past ten years, technical studies have been conducted to examine and describe the components and media of paints used on objects and totem poles of the Pacific Northwest (Howatt-Krahn 1988). Conservation scientists at the Canadian Conservation Institute in Ottawa have been analyzing paint samples, and there is now extensive literature available on the properties of historic paint films, their components, and their degradation. This information is valuable for the preservation of existing paint surfaces and for understanding the technology of early paint manufactured in the Pacific Northwest.
In some areas of this coastal region, it rains two hundred days of the year. The annual rainfall accumulation can be 250 cm or more (Ketchikan’s average yearly accumulation is 386 cm). Therefore, the major problem for conservation of the outdoor totem poles is deterioration at the paint- wood interface. Where the paint meets the wood, moisture becomes trapped and the processes of deterioration begin (Fig. 7). The application of overpaint and the use of nonpermeable paint also contribute to the problem. When moisture enters the painted wooden surface of a pole and then cannot pass out through the nonpermeable paint film, the trapped moisture nourishes biological growth in the wood. Once the pole is brought indoors to the dry, stable conditions in a museum environment, degradation of the paint and the wood is reduced considerably. However, this is a compromise with the original outdoor and public purpose of the totem pole. It can also be an economic and physical compromise to properly house an old totem pole indoors, especially for museums with small collections and limited financial resources.
Once painted surfaces have deteriorated out-of-doors, efforts to return them to their original condition, or even to stabilize their condition, become very difficult. This difficulty is usually compounded by the nature of the underlying wood substrate, which is affected by the environment. Factors that affect the preservation of materials often mirror the natural process of life itself, a cause-and-effect system well understood by the indigenous society that created these works. The notion of time dictates the cause-and-effect system of any culture (Laforet 1993).
The history of conservation treatments for totem poles in Canada begins with the efforts of the National Museums in Ottawa and the Canadian National Railway. Their restorations were conducted in the 1920s and are recorded in reports by Marius Barbeau (1990). The Royal British Columbia Museum in Victoria has gathered conservation records by anthropologists and conservators throughout the years. As first chief conservator of the museum (then the B.C. Provincial Museum), Philip Ward was responsible for several projects in the 1960s and 1970s. Richard Beauchamp, Mary Lou Florian, and Valerie Thorp, respectively, have directed conservation services from the late 1970s through to the present. In Vancouver, conservation projects have been carried out at the University of British Columbia Museum of Anthropology and at the Vancouver Museum, which is responsible for an outdoor display of totem poles in Stanley Park. In Ottawa, research and treatment projects continue to be carried out in the laboratories of Canadian Parks Service, the Canadian Conservation Institute, and the Canadian Museum of Civilization. Other projects to preserve totem poles have been conducted by many museums elsewhere in Canada and in other centers around the world.
The author’s involvement with the conservation of outdoor totem poles has included treatments and recommendations for preventive measures and record keeping within maintenance programs. Treatment projects to stabilize wood and secure paint have been provided for totem poles that are now housed indoors at museums and cultural centers. Emphasis has been placed on environmentally sensitive approaches to treatment, with minimum intervention, and maintenance-and-prevention programs. An effort to incorporate the native world view into established Western theories of preservation has been practiced for several years. Maintenance treatments and recommendations for storage and display have been provided for several collections in the Pacific Northwest region. Treatments to conserve the historic poles are occasionally being accepted, but the cost of conservation programs and appropriate housing for the old totem poles is still a limiting factor. Now, at least, some understanding of the concepts of native culture in relation to preservation is being more widely appreciated.
Conservation treatments have included consolidation of the wood structure and of paint films on totem poles at the Totem Heritage Center in Ketchikan. Conservation of a painted housefront in Sitka, Alaska, for the National Park Service demonstrates the stages of a paint consolidation treatment. First, stabilization of the wooden substrate is done using dowels and consolidants, following a gentle, dry cleaning. The soft wood in deteriorated areas is then injected with poly(vinyl butyral) Butvar B-90 in ethanol. Finally, the paint is consolidated to the wood surface with Acryloid B72 in acetone, applied first with brush and then as a fine mist spray.1
The same methods have been used for other objects, such as the Tlingit carved bear on the top of a plain round pole from Tongass Island, now in the Ketchikan Totem Heritage Center. This type of treatment, involving the injection of poly(vinyl butyral), can be conducted only on the dry wood and paint of an object that has been moved to a sheltered indoor environment. Polyvinyl butyral will not function as a consolidant in wet wood. Poly(ethylene glycol) (PEG), however, has been used successfully to structurally stabilize wet wood.2
Native elders, through hereditary rights, are responsible for decisions regarding the disposition of totem poles. In some cases, they have expressed a wish to be able to witness the gradual and natural decline of the wood and paint in their original placement. An example is the Haida decision regarding the mortuary and memorial poles still located on-site at the Ninstints World Heritage Site on Anthony Island, in the Queen Charlotte Islands. This site is one of the few remaining original villages where poles were traditionally erected. An ongoing program to manage the site is conducted through the Haida Watchman program, in partnership with Canadian Parks Service and the Skidegate Band. The program honors the native point of view, permitting the poles to slowly deteriorate. The site is maintained by the Haida Gwaii Watchman, a native resident who is appointed to supervise the site and keep the poles free of extraneous biological growth.
When representation of a story is the most important aspect to preserve in a totem pole, the option of total restoration results. This operation may include the removal of all deteriorated wood, or as much as necessary, replacing it with new wood, which is then carved to match the original. The result, in terms of materials, is an assemblage of old and new wood, adhesive, and fasteners. With this kind of treatment, the visual representation of the story or theme of the pole is preserved; but, is this not extremely excessive intervention? Such intervention can be justified through the need for public safety in exhibition locations. If the object tells a story, then the imagery of the surface must be preserved to faithfully tell it.
An alternative method of preserving the story of the totem is recarving or reproducing the pole. Elders of a tribe may decide to permit a new pole to be carved to replace one that is no longer safe to leave standing. The Raven and Black Fish pole in Klawock is an example of a recarved pole. Artist Israel Shotridge was selected through hereditary rights to reproduce the pole. His reproduction is an accurate replica of the original, except for a slight addition carved on the fin of the Black Fish. The addition is a portrait of his young daughter. In another case—the Chief Johnson pole of Ketchikan, which Israel also reproduced—the new pole replaced the original at the outdoor site. The old pole was placed in storage. The status of the old pole now becomes questionable in terms of significance. Is it still an original artifact that should be preserved, or is it like a “de-accessioned” item, removed from the culture? The Chief Johnson pole, partly because of its length (nearly 18.29 m [60 ft.]) and partly because of its ambiguous identity, is now stored under a leaking deck, open on three sides to Alaska’s weather.
Another issue that affects the role of conservation is the question of authenticity that surrounds poles that have been restored in situ by recarving new wood installed on the original pole. Such restorations were carried out in the past, and no written records of these earlier treatments were kept; rarely were approvals of treatment proposals given and/or descriptions of the before-treatment conditions made. As a result, details of the treatment, including exact dates, often are not recorded. When artifacts that carry questions about their treatment or original materials are placed in the same collection with documented ones, the latter often receive better attention. The preservation principle of universal care for objects in a collection is then changed to a hierarchy of care that favors the most authentic.
The Haida position for the Ninstints World Heritage Site is very important to bear in mind with regard to present and future criticism of conservation theory and practice in the preservation of totem poles. In Haida philosophy, the concept of time passing acknowledges and honors the process of life and death and gives regard to the artists and the society of the past. The practice of preserving surface features does not acknowledge the past represented by the whole totem pole; rather, it rebuilds the artifact in the present as a new object. By denying history evident through aging, the impression that is created through the practice of surface rebuilding—when compared to the Haida practice of overall preservation of the old poles and their environment at Ninstints—is not of time passing or of the past, but only of a newly built present.
Although the very old poles remain untreated at Ninstints, their story continues, giving new meaning to the present. The choice of nonintervention at Ninstints is as significant to the history of those poles and that community as intervening with new, structurally stabilizing adhesive and wood. These two choices—to intervene with treatment or to provide treatment that does not actually disturb the artifact—occupy opposite ends of the theoretical approach to totem pole conservation.
The ownership of memory—and the right to tell one’s own story, to change it, even to let the story die—is embodied in the symbolism of totem poles. At the same time, the poles are material objects subject to the ravages of time and, within conservation standards, not only worthy of preservation as sculptures within the context of world art history but also important as cultural and artistic resources for future generations of native and nonnative people. This is the intersection where memory-stories contained in the totems coincide and conflict with increasingly urgent and complex choices about preserving the original wood and paint.
Preservation is about memory, just as the stories told by many totem poles represent memory. Traditional conservation places emphasis on the actual materials of the object for preservation purposes—the totem pole as a distinct object of carved wood and paint—whereas in native culture, preservation of the totem pole is an act of remembering.
Who can decide how a story should be preserved, and who can permit a story to be changed? Don’t conservators have a responsibility to intervene, to preserve?
Conservation ethics have been carefully established to define the moral and ethical responsibilities of the conservator in the practice of preserving works of art. A written set of guidelines for correct practice has governed the performance of treatments since the early 1950s (IIC 1968). These conservation guidelines define the limits of care and attention. The conservation ethic is, however, uncritical. It assumes that objects are precious and that all are equal in terms of attention for the purpose of preservation. This assumption is often unrealistic, given the hierarchy of certain objects within different cultures and societies. The profession really has not dealt with the choices that are made in the actual selection that takes place before an object is given conservation treatment. Selection for conservation treatment often determines which objects from history are memorialized.
In examples of conservation projects at the Ketchikan Totem Heritage Center, authority to conduct treatments for objects has been granted by the Alaska State Museum and elders of the family that has inherited ownership. Loose sections of carving were considered safety hazards in need of treatment. More recently, authority to treat other poles in the same collection has been granted by the State Museum in two ways: to the conservator responsible for the treatment; and, with formal blessings and songs, by tribal elders whose family lineages extend (or circle) back to the original owners. Permission of this kind is extremely meaningful to the conservators involved.
On the subject of totems and their preservation, Alert Bay artist Doug Cranmer (1994) recently reflected on a common concern held by contemporary native artists and tribal elders. He wonders, “Who will do the preservation work next?” The poles he re-created, along with Bill Reid, in 1960 at the Museum of Anthropology, University of British Columbia, are still outdoors (Fig. 8) and are now in need of treatment to stabilize deterioration and stop the damaging growth of mosses and plants. Biological growth has contributed to structural deterioration of the wood in several vulnerable locations. Cranmer acknowledges that although the talent to carve new poles flourishes in the region, conservation skills are only lately developing within the native community.
Aboriginal control of park and burial sites and the retained ownership of the stories and crests on poles within museums are a serious and unresolved factor in the conservation treatment of totem poles. Traditional aboriginal opinions about recorded history and the use of the carved and painted totem poles have been researched by conservators and incorporated into their discussions in an effort to acknowledge and respect the culture of the original societies that produced the work. However, the conservation profession, while attempting to honor the original culture, is still governed by the rigid Western (i.e., European) definition of cultural preservation. A different ideological world view is held by indigenous peoples of the Northwest Coast region. The flaking and lost paint that troubles conservators is not so important to a society that describes its history through a different communications system, where a totem pole is a story, and the story is about the culture, the rank of its members, their achievements, and their memories. Their cultural viewpoint influences the way they view the European-based conservation profession.
Surprising revelations from infrared photography have spurred another preservation technology and inspired the interest of native artists to work with the historic techniques of native art. The principle that underlies this technology is, of course, that infrared film is sensitive to heat. Pigments either absorb or reflect the heat from photographic flood lights. Dense mineral-based pigments such as hematite and magnetite absorb heat, while paints such as Chinese vermilion reflect it. Even small traces of pigment can be detected with this method, and distinctions can be made between older paints and those that became commercially available this century through trading. Unpainted wood also reflects heat. These conditions are clearly recorded on photographic film, and they can be observed and considered in relation to what is apparent in natural and raking light.
The work of Bill McLennan (1994) at the University of British Columbia Museum of Anthropology reveals new findings that add to stylistic interpretations of cultural expression. His photographs of paint- decorated objects can penetrate through use-added surface layers that are too important to remove for any examination. Beneath these heavily coated objects, he has found paint designs that have brought a new understanding of the art form.
Previous descriptions of the stylistic qualities of Northwest Coast art have depicted the painted visual form of the designs as being rigid and formalistic. In the 1920s, anthropologist Franz Boas (1929) emphasized formal equations in the art and interpreted the imagery as rule-bound compositions that had little narrative content. Later, Bill Holm further analyzed a formal vocabulary of images and gave names to the iconographic components, such as formline, U-form, and ovoid, in his 1965 book, Northwest Coast Indian Art: An Analysis of Form.
By contrast, these infrared photographs have disclosed a unique freedom and risk-taking in the designs. A mature confidence in the application of paint for decorated surfaces reveals the free use of the medium by artists willing to experiment and challenge rigid formalism. The very recent use of this infrared technology illustrates the issue of recovered memory and history within the world of the Pacific Northwest.
Currently, young native artists are working to re-create works from the information recovered in the infrared examinations. Vancouver anthropologist Charlotte Townsend-Gault has studied the implications of these discoveries, and she comments on the fact that more information about the culture is now available. She refers to the technique used by some museums of presenting objects as aesthetic items. Without discussing their meaning, the objects are presented complete in their form and allowed to “speak for themselves.” She notes that the infrared project now defines the important role that the object plays in telling the stories of the culture. As she puts it, “these are not just objects for aesthetic delectation but the repositories of ancestral stories and the rights to those stories” (1993:51).
The issues that are unveiled by infrared examination relate to the present ethical memory role that conservation and the treatment of totem poles must address. Future ethics in this area must take into account the values of aboriginal culture and their concepts of time, nature, material culture, and memory. Infrared technology has revealed new and important cultural information without disturbing the objects. Conservation treatment needs to remain sensitive to achieving results of similar value through equally nonintrusive means.
Conservation treatments for painted wooden objects have been developed to preserve the physical qualities of the original materials. In many cases, the individual painted objects present unique problems, but for the most part, standard techniques with new procedures can be adapted to achieve a satisfactory treatment. Totem poles, however, present a complex assortment of issues and problems. They are more than works of art; they embody the culture of the native peoples of the Pacific Northwest. The totem poles have several important uses in a culture that incorporates symbols and mythic images to convey the meaning of society and the memories of events and legends. Conservation treatments for these objects raise ethical issues that reveal that the practice of conservation, in fact, also deals with preservation of memory. With totem poles, the responsibility for their preservation should be permitted and approved by the people whose memory is embodied in the object.
As the Western-based conservation profession is now beginning to acknowledge the role of aboriginal peoples in the preservation of their own cultural heritage, so has the importance of the native conservator come to be realized. The result is that conservation is now developing as a profession among the members of the culture that owns the objects. Native conservators are entering the field to share their unique understanding of cultural memory and its preservation. Conservation courses have been given by the author in communities with totem poles. Perhaps the most important outcome of courses such as this has been a growing and shared awareness of the value of preservation programs for these artifacts.
In addition, young artists—such as Robert Davidson, who uses the historic works as a stylistic starting point for his personal development as a contemporary Haida artist (Thom 1994:5–7)—have spoken in favor of preservation in order to keep the objects of the past as lessons in cultural history. Therefore, the culture benefits from the preservation of the totem poles by preserving old stories, which are recarved on new totem poles.
Hopefully, developments such as McLennan’s Infrared Technique will provide the inspiration to research and study further techniques to assist in the preservation of Northwest Coast native art.
1 For the use of poly(vinyl butyral) as a consolidant, see Barclay 1981 and Wang and Schniewind 1985.
2 There is a great deal published on the use of PEG as a consolidant for waterlogged wood. See, for example, Grattan 1981.
Acryloid B72, Conservation Materials, Ltd., 100 Standing Rock Circle, Reno, NV 89511
Butvar B-90 and B-98, Monsanto Canada, Inc., P.O. Box 787, Streetsville, Ontario, Canada, L5M 2G4.
1990 Barbeau, M.
Totem Poles. 2 vols. Ottawa: Canadian Museum of Civilization.
1981 Barclay, R.
Consolidation of an eighteenth century English fire engine. Studies in Conservation 26:133–39
1929 Boas, Franz
Northwest Coast Artforms. Washington: Bureau of American Ethnology.
1994 Cranmer, Doug
Conversation with the author. Vancouver, B.C., 31 August.
1981 Grattan, D. W., ed.
Proceedings of the ICOM Waterlogged Wood Working Group Conference, Ottawa 1981. Ottawa: International Council of Museums, Committee for Conservation, Waterlogged Wood Working Group.
1965 Holm, Bill
Northwest Coast Indian Art: An Analysis of Form. Seattle and London: University of Washington Press.
1988 Howatt-Krahn, Ann
Field research in the conservation of ethnological collections: An ecological approach applied to polychrome monumental sculpture. In Proceedings of Symposium 86: The Care and Preservation of Ethnological Materials, 156–69. Ottawa: Canadian Conservation Institute.
1968 International Institute for the Conservation of Museum Objects (IIC)
The Murray Pease Report: Code of Ethics for Art Conservators. New York: IIC- American Group.
1945 Keithahn, E. L.
Monuments in Cedar—The Authentic Story of the Totem Poles. Ketchikan: Roy Anderson.
1993 Laforet, Andrea
Time and the grand hall of the Canadian Museum of Civilization. Museum Anthropology 17(1):22–32.
1994 McLennan, Bill
Conversation with the author. Museum of Anthropology, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, B.C., 10 May.
1994 Thom, Ian, ed.
Robert Davidson, Eagle of the Dawn. Vancouver: Douglas and McIntyre.
1993 Townsend-Gault, C.
News from the Northwest. Canadian Art (summer):46–51.
1985 Wang, Y., and A. P. Schniewind
Consolidation of deteriorated wood with soluble resins. Journal of the American Institute for Conservation 24:77–91.