Abstract: "The E. Lingle Craig Preservation Laboratory Repair and Enclosure Treatment Manual," text by Garry Harrison

After my last post discussing Paul Conway's 2010 article on the future of the preservation community in light of the ever-increasing shift towards digital information and digitization for preservation strategies, I still think it is important at present to understand the basics of physical preservation.  I highly doubt that in my lifetime, all physical forms of information will become obsolete.  A digital Gutenberg Bible, such as that created through a project at the Harry Ransom Center, is a fantastic scholastic resource which will reach geographically disparate audiences and help to minimize physical wear and material degradation on the original.  However, the value of the tangible object itself remains irreplaceable.  There is some undefined human connection to physicality that cannot be replaced by digital surrogates at this point in our evolution.

A fantastic resource to support physical preservation was produced by the staff at Indiana University's E. Lingle Craig Preservation Laboratory and is freely available to the public online: "The E. Lingle Craig Preservation Laboratory Repair and Enclosure Treatment Manual" (text and images by Garry Harrison, Head of Circulating Collections Conservation, and slide show design by Jacob Nadal, former Head of the Preservation Department).  One attendant at the recent SAA-SC Conference for Graduate Students and Beginning Professionals came to Bloomington chiefly to attend the Paper Conservation workshop at the Preservation Laboratory because she regularly uses the manual as a reference at her home repository.  I suspect that I too may refer back to it when assessing options to resolve my own preservation issues in the workplace.  The manual is easy to navigate, contains a wealth of information, and makes many treatments accessible for real-world application.  Even if one does not go so far as to independently perform preservation treatments, repairs, or build protective enclosures, the manual may serve as a guide for what preservation actions are possible and what resources are required.

The manual opens into a handy and straightforward table of contents.  The first two categories on the table are "repair treatments" and "enclosure treatments".  Each selection under these categories (e.g. cut pages, tape removal, mylar encapsulation, phase box, etc.) includes a step-by-step slideshow detailing the entire treatment, textual treatment criteria, tools/materials used for treatment, instructions for using the manual, and a map image of a generic slideshow, which walks the user through its navigation.  Surely not all of the treatments included will be relevant to archivists, as many are in relation to book repairs, but there is surely still a wealth of information in many of the treatment descriptions.

For example, use of tape for paper mending in years past is something that an archivist is highly likely to encounter.  Under the Tape Removal heading, the manual explains that adhesives may discolor paper, interfere with text legibility, and plastic film may shift leading to exposed adhesive residue that may adhere to and damage neighboring documents.  Rather than merely explain how to remove tape, the "treatment criteria" section explains when and why this procedure should be executed, urging practical choices.  Relatively few tools are involved in this treatment, including a heated microspatula, fume hood, small rush, solvent, and paper towels.  If I were an archivist at a small repository without a preservation department or workspace, the requirement of a fume hood may mean that this is not a feasible treatment to pursue on sight.  Furthermore, after reading through the slide show for tape removal, it comes to my attention that the procedure is delicate and required the confidence and competence of an experienced individual.  Without further training, I don't know that I would feel confident pursuing treatment even with a fully supportive tool supply.  Still, I believe it is helpful to know that this procedure is certainly possible if performed by a preservation professional.  Practically speaking, if tape removal would improve the lifespan and use of a valuable physical object, it may be worth pursuing by an institution's preservation department or contract preservation facility.

Aside from detailed preservation treatment instructions, the manual also includes sections on the table of contents for "hand tools" (weights, bone folders, tweezers), "shop tools" (deacidification system, freezer/dryer, press boards), and "supplies and materials" (adhesive types, tapes, paper, pamphlets/envelopes).  I found all of these quite helpful in understanding what various tools and materials may be used for archival quality treatments and how to visually identify them as such.  Personally, when I open up a Hollinger catalog (which started showing up in my mailbox as soon as I registered with SAA; is it strange that I get almost as excited about sale priced acid free folders as I do about good Groupons or discounts at my favorite clothing store?), I feel a bit overwhelmed by the various options.  Sometimes the mere volume of choices makes understanding for what each item is intended and why that much more difficult.  The straightforward explanations and photographs on the preservation manual are a great reference--I just wish there were more!  Perhaps someday I can make a visual dictionary of archival supplies my own project.

The Preservation Manual contains one more section on the table of contents: Glossary and Appendices, perhaps my favorite section.  Here users find a glossary of terms (some of which point to hyperlinks connected to further explanations and images), though it is primarily in relation to book terminology.  The appendix also includes easy to follow instructions for making a casebound book from scratch (something I did last summer during a Conservation Workshop course), dealing with mold, attaching book plates, and a special projects section.  The final section in the manual's glossary, Special Projects, includes several preservation procedural examples which likely have value to archives professionals: creation of an analog disc sleeves, paper deodorization, Sanborn Maps, and giant encapsulation.  I will keep all of these in mind for the future.

The portion on mold is fascinating and, I imagine, extremely helpful in orienting ones own mold problems in relation to preservation decisions made in the example cases entailed in the manual.  The examples are oriented toward real-world mold cases encountered by the IU preservation staff, all of which deal with books.  However, treatment decisions and options are similar for archival materials, especially those used in the example "Mold, decision to restore (example 1)".  The delicate and laborious treatment used to salvage a bound book of newspapers from the 1940s is a true testament to the laudable skills of preservation professionals.  I may be on the verge of waxing poetically here, but it really is amazing that mold-ridden materials are, in some cases, able to be restored and remain usable for patrons.  On the other hand, if moldy materials are encountered at present or several years in the future, I am inclined to believe that digitization for preservation may be an easier, more cost effective mode of information preservation.  In the case of a small portion of Sermons I encountered while processing Claxon mss. II, I detected a musty, possibly modly smell.  The tactile quality of the paper was also somehow "off".  Following a materials assessment by Doug Sanders of the IU Preservation Department, it was decided to use the lab's deacidification system to treat the papers.  Though deacidification isn't necessarily a thrifty procedure, the unique quality of the materials merited preservation action.  This procedure is much less involved than those detailed in the manual, which helps me put its condition into perspective.

In reading through the Preservation Manual, it is clear to me that no treatment decision is black and white; every action depends on a repositories unique collections, resources, objectives, and values.  The manual elucidates the decision process as executed by staff at Indiana University, gives real-world examples, and makes clear that there isn't necessarily a right or wrong decision for all preservation cases.  In the case of several mold treatment examples, the Harrison (the manual's author) admits that his own treatment decisions were a bit experimental.  Choices were made based on experience, knowledge of past treatments, available resources, and physical artifactual value.

Overall, the E. Lingle Craig Preservation Repair

Publish Post

and Enclosure Treatment Manual was an interesting and engaging read.  Author Garry Harrison created a colloquial text with un-intimidating language and humor, which makes complex procedures and concepts accessible to the everyday archives or library professional (or graduate student!).  I already have the site bookmarked on my home computer and can only hope it remains publicly accessible in the future.

Week Two: The Processing Intensifies

I am entirely confused as to how the second week of my internship has already come to a close. In part, I think this is a good thing: I am genuinely enjoying my time at the Lilly. On the other hand, this is not such a great thing: there is so much I want to do and time is so short! I think this situation conveniently embodies my New Years Resolution to be more mindful of my actions and continue to revisit overarching goals and values of the "big picture" rather than allow myself to get overly caught up in details. This seems to me to be an important thing to keep in mind as an archivist, where details can grow overwhelming, almost all consuming. I need to keep reminding myself that my goal is to process a collection efficiently and effectively ultimately to meet the needs of end users. I need to let myself step away from a construct of definitive black and white decisions and learn to assess what works best for a collection's individual nature.

This pseudo-philosophical tangent does actually relate to my intern work this week. I spent my hours digging deeper into Claxon mss. II, which consists of six boxes of manuscripts with a smattering of photographs. I often found myself being a bit too meticulous, getting caught up on a particularly interesting folder, debating over what the real theme of an unnamed folder's contents is, googling up African maps to geographically situate the Claxons in my mind, etc. Surely making these connections is important, but there comes a point when one must leave the details to the researcher.

This week, my first general endeavor was to glean a basic understanding of what types of materials are in the collection on a topical level. From there, Craig suggested that I use the "piling method" as a way to think through series level categorization. Though this method sounds basic--literally making piles of folders containing topically related documents--it provides a great way to visualize content relationships, volume of materials, and it's also extremely helpful in sorting through the most appropriate designation of more ambiguous files.

In general, Claxon mss. II contains biographical materials, correspondence, subject files, writings, conference files, and photographs. Subject files and writings command the bulk of the collection, as these provide the most substantial evidence of the creators' essential professional endeavors. Craig suggested that I continually keep in mind how a researcher might think as he or she confronts a collection. Though I understand that not all researchers are alike, I can guess that a large drawing factor for this collection is its relation to missionary activities in Nigeria and Benin--the countries where the Claxons spent the most significant portion of their time as missionaries. For this reason, I should think in terms of making my arrangement accessible to such interests. However, given that finding aids are increasingly being launched online, word searchable functionality in part eliminates the requirement for overly meticulous physical arrangement. So long as materials are adequately described, a researcher should have no problem connecting with information of interest, right?

It may not be that simple, so in the interests of improving the usefulness of my collection's eventual finding aid, I will be reading this article from the Fall/Winter 2010 issue of The American Archivist entitled: "Seek and You May Find: Successful Search in Online Finding Aid Systems," by Morgan G. Daniels and Elizabeth Yakel.

Additionally, I also plan to read this article from the Spring/Summer 2009 issues of The American Archivist: "Making the Leap from Parts to Whole: Evidence and Inference in Archival Arrangement and Description," by Jennifer Meehan. This piece discusses the process of intellectual arrangement, its inherently subjective nature, and suggests strategies for archivists to employ which may minimize the his or her unintentional shaping of a collection--something which I hope to will help me process collections more objectively.

That's all on my end for now. This internship, along with work at the University Archives, volunteering at Wylie House Museum, taking another class, and helping to organize our SAA Indiana University Student Chapter's March conference is keeping me plenty busy these days. C'est la vie--at least I'm enjoying it!

Archivally yours,
Amy