E l P a l a c i o

Tasha Ostrander, Seventy-three in a Moment (detail), 1996, 26,645 handcut, photocopied paper butterflies, stained with tea and coffee; gum arabic; masonite, 10 ft × 10 ft × 2 ½ in. Gift of William Siegal, 2012. Photograph by Margo Geist.

Great artworks have staying power — intellectually, if not

always physically. Many contemporary artists use fragile

or ephemeral materials that pose a challenge to collec-

tions care in museums. When it happens that a remarkable

yet vulnerable work is offered to us for the New Mexico

Museum of Art’s collection, we turn to the museum system’s

conservators to advise us about the challenges that will face

us if we acquire it. They analyze the materials and their

longevity, consult with the artist when possible, and let us

know how to best care for the work in order to prolong its

life, or to suspend its inevitable decay. Sometimes this plan

of care includes the conservators’ intervention to stabilize

or restore a piece.

Tasha Ostrander’s Seventy-three in a Moment, consisting of

26,645 paper butterflies, is a recent acquisition that posed

such a conservation challenge for the museum.

Ostrander’s 10-foot-diameter butterfly mandala has been

called “magnificent and telling,” “delicate,” “resilient,” and

“a visual wonder.” She created the piece in 1996, xeroxing,

cutting, staining, numbering, and interleaving the thousands

of butterflies in a series of concentric circles. The number

26,645 represented the number of days in the average life span

of an American in 1996 — seventy-three years. This work is, in

essence, a meditation on life and death in which the art asks

the question: if you knew how long you had to live, how would

you live your days? The use of the butterflies is a metaphor for

the brevity of life (butterflies have a short life span) and the idea

of metamorphosis.

When she created the piece, Ostrander did all of the work

herself, eight hours a day, seven days a week, for an entire year.

The labor-intensiveness of the project was an important aspect

of creating the meaning of the work. Because the work takes the

form of a mandala, it reinforces its own symbolism as a medita-

tive work or spiritual endeavor. To have the 26,645 butterflies

seen in one glance is to demonstrate the intensity of a lifetime

in a single moment.

When the artwork was offered in 2012 to the New Mexico

Museum of Art as a donation by William Siegal, who purchased

the piece in 1996, it was clear that to accept it into the collection

on exhibit

The Decay of Nature, SuspendedBy Laura aDDiSoN

F a l l 2 0 1 3

meant there would be a significant restoration project ahead.

Conservator Mina Thompson came with me to Siegal’s home

to assess the piece before the collections committee meeting.

The mandala had been in a sheltered but open-air space for

a number of years, and it became a favorite for all variety of

creatures: spiders spun their webs across it, birds absconded

with bits and pieces of paper for their nests, a cat once took a

swipe at it and removed a chunk of butterflies, and during the

conservation process intern Crista Pack even found shed lizard

skin. Moreover, some of the materials the artist had originally

used were contributing to the piece’s own deterioration over

time: the butterflies are xeroxed on regular copy paper, which is

acidic; they are mounted to Masonite, also highly acidic; and in

order to give the piece some “sparkle,” Ostrander had splattered

gum arabic over the surface, and it had become dry and crusty

over time. Nonetheless, Thompson felt that the piece could be

repaired and brought back to life, so to speak.

Artist Tasha ostrander (foreground) attaches new butterflies as Conservation Graduate Intern Crista Pack humidifies the original butterflies. Photograph by Mina Thompson.

For six months, the Conservation Department worked to

bring Seventy-three in a Moment back to its former glory. In the

accompanying sidebar, Crista Pack describes the treatments she

used to restore the piece. Significantly, the artist enthusiastically

and very generously participated, sharing her materials and

process with Pack and Thompson, creating new butterflies,

and helping to interleave and adhere them. Her labor of love

involved, once again, the daily repetitive practice of photo-

copying, cutting, and staining. It was, in essence, a full-time

job. Ostrander worked at home but was also a frequent visitor

to the downtown Conservation Lab, working side by side with

Pack and Thompson. Along the way, the artist and conservators

always discussed the hows and whys of the project. Though it

was tempting to make changes, they were always guided by the

original piece and Ostrander’s intent in 1996.

My role was as an observer and occasional decision maker.

They consulted me periodically, and it was always thrilling

to walk across the street to the lab to see the progress. I was

amazed at the mundane nature of many of the tools of the trade:

hair clips from the pharmacy to hold together the paper butter-

flies, dark roast coffee from Ohori’s coffee shop in Santa Fe for

staining, a makeshift gauze cover wrapped around the end of a

mini vacuum hose, and tiny Ziplocs filled with sand to weigh

down wings that wanted to curl. What was not mundane at all

was the level of knowledge and care that Pack and Thompson

brought to the project.

As the deadline approached for the exhibition opening at the

museum for Collecting Is Inquiry / Collecting Is Curiosity, Ostrander

and the conservation team humidified the last butterflies, care-

fully touched up the edge wings with pastel pencils, and added

the last new interlocking butterflies. Although they were mindful

of remaining true to the original intent and appearance of the

piece, the exact count of butterflies is unknown at this point.

With the added butterflies, they likely number more than the

original 26,645. “It’s now more like eighty-three in a moment,”

Ostrander remarked. And with the care the conservators gave

to Seventy-three in a Moment, it’s likely that the life expectancy

of the mandala has increased for posterity as well.

Laura Addison is curator of contemporary art at the new Mexico Museum of Art.

Tasha ostrander’s piece Seventy-three in a Moment is on view in the exhibition Collecting

Is Inquiry / Collecting Is Curiosity through January 19, 2014.

E l P a l a c i o

on exhibit

How to revive ButterfliesWhen Seventy-three in a Moment was brought into the Museum of

New Mexico Conservation Lab, it was immediately evident from

its sheer size and condition that this was going to be an inter-

esting (and big) project. The artwork had sustained numerous

losses prior to its acquisition by the museum, many of which

were caused by handling and adhesive failure over the years.

However, some losses were the result of a culprit we don’t often

encounter in conservation: birds. These avian snatchers had

picked off paper butterfly wings for use in their nests. Over time,

the remaining paper butterflies had become brittle, distorted,

and faded. Tears, as well as heavy accumulations of dust, grime,

and spider webbing were also evident throughout the piece.

Many factors need to be considered before treating a large

contemporary piece such as this: artist’s intent, stability of orig-

inal media, amount of time

available to treat the object,

and the stability / compat-

ibility of materials that

might be used dur ing

treatment. To help address

these issues, conservator

Mina Thompson and I

interviewed artist Tasha

Ostrander to identify the

materials and techniques

she had used when she first

created the piece in 1996.

We also consulted with

curator Laura Addison to

determine what conservation and restoration measures might be

appropriate to get the artwork ready for exhibition.

Our treatment for this piece began with a very thorough

cleaning to remove dust and grime. For this we used a specialized

vacuum fitted with a micro-attachment with a nozzle only one

centimeter in diameter. This allowed us to reach into the narrow

spaces of the piece easily and safely. Occasionally, we attached a

small sponge to the end of the nozzle to aid in removing heavy

grime accumulations. Often we simply used a small, soft brush to

sweep off the dust and guide it towards the nozzle opening.

Humidification was necessary to then relax and reshape areas

of distorted paper. This was done with a device called a Preser-

vation Pencil, which provides a finely focused stream of heated

mist. Once the paper had been steamed and manipulated back

into shape with our fingers, we used small metal alligator hair

clips (the kind you find at the drugstore or hairdresser’s) to hold

the paper in place as it dried. This prevented it from recurling

back to its distorted state.

To compensate for the loss of butterflies, we enlisted the help of

the artist herself, who created new ones. Ostrander used the same

process she had in 1996: photocopying images of butterflies, hand-

cutting each one, and then dyeing them with coffee to achieve

the desired color. Mina and I worked with Ostrander weekly to

integrate these new butterflies into the piece. This improved the

overall aesthetic of the work and conserved the original concept.

The gum arabic that Ostrander had originally splattered over

the butterfly wings had become opaque, yellow, and brittle,

and much of it had flaked

off. We looked at replacing

the losses with more gum

arabic to bring back the

sheen. However, testing

revealed that it remained

very tacky, even after weeks

of drying, and the tackiness

would trap dust. I experi-

mented with various media

to find a more stable solu-

tion that would provide a

similar look. I found that

the sy nthet ic polymer

Aqua zol® prov ided a

similar appearance but dried thoroughly and would remain

stable over time. The artist also liked this solution and used it

to add the finishing touches to the piece.

When all was said and done, we spent approximately 200

hours treating this artwork and preparing it for exhibition. It

was a labor of love and a thoroughly enjoyable project, giving

us the unique opportunity to collaborate with an artist on a

conservation treatment. — Crista Pack

Crista Pack recently completed a conservation graduate internship with the Museum

of new Mexico. She graduated in August with an MS in art conservation from the

Winterthur /University of Delaware Program in Art Conservation. She is currently working

as a fellow for the Arizona State Museum Conservation Department in Tucson.

Tools of the conservator’s trade. Photograph by Kitty Leaken.

F a l l 2 0 1 3