Monthly Archive for July, 2010

Design books

"The Fibro Frontier" by Charles Pickett, Powerhouse Publishing 1997

I’m currently trying to get together a new book about architecture, so I’ve been thinking about design publishing.

Although the death of the book is announced daily if not hourly, you don’t have to spend much time at Kinokuniya and similar locales to realise that the design book, at least, is not in any danger. There’s a long-standing association between design and writing that lends itself to the book format. Marcus Vitruvius kicked off this particular symbiosis back in Roman times with his Ten books on Architecture and since then numerous architects, notably Le Corbusier and Rem Koolhaas, have become as famous for their writing as for their design.

But ultimately it’s the graphic content that counts in design books, a fact recognised by the German publisher Taschen, which has done more than most in reinvigorating the genre during the past few decades. Taschen initially prospered by undercutting the established design and art publishers on price. But more recently they’ve done some interesting things: At one end of the market they produce expensive limited edition books, often in very large formats. Some of these books can take over a room like a new piece of furniture.

Taschen also broadened the market by publishing on a variety of popular but arcane designers and visual genres, for example comics and fashion photography. And they caught attention by taking erotica upmarket. The latest offering in Taschen’s ‘Sexy books’ catalogue celebrates ‘Big butts’ (the nomenclature suggests that the US market is the target here). It’s not a design book but it’s very obviously ‘designed’, and would not look out of place on the proverbial coffee table, next to a stylish tome about Zaha Hadid or similar celebrity architect.

And this is an essential part of design publishing. The book has to be an artefact in itself, a luxury object scrupulously designed and produced. Hence this area of the publishing industry is in no danger from Kindle and other e-readers. (Interestingly Sydney Design has eschewed this particular rule with its 2010 booklet. Just as well it’s a give away.)

"Creating the Look: Benini and fashion photography" by Anne-Marie Van de Ven with Hazel Benini, Powerhouse Publishing, 2010

Other design publishers have followed Taschen’s lead in broadening their catalogues beyond architecture and interiors. A local example is Melbourne’s Images Publishing, like Taschen founded during the early 1980s, which ‘in recent years has made successful inroads into other areas, including fashion, photography, landscape architecture, architectural illustration, graphic design, and motoring’.

The combination of risky or esoteric content plus the new accessibility of books as luxury objects places design and art publishing at odds with the increasingly risk-averse mainstream publishing industry. But there is a downside in the resulting level of competition, placing some publishers and imprints at risk.

Design books remain an expensive proposition. My words may be cheap but the photographs to go with them certainly aren’t. It’s not easy to put these two elements together with a publisher. Sometimes I wish I wrote novels instead.

Editor’s comment: Both design publications illustrated above can be purchased online from the Museum’s website. In fact, the Benini publication goes on sale from today!

She has emerged! 2009 Design NSW Travelling Scholarship Winner- Liesl Hazelton

Image courtesy of Liesl Hazelton

Since 2008, the Powerhouse Museum and Arts NSW, presented in partnership with the British Council, have been offering an $18,000 scholarship for a designer at the beginning of their career to undertake an approved program of professional development overseas. The 2009 winner of this scholarship was jewellery designer, Liesl Hazelton. Liesl works with discarded materials like computer cables, wires, mini iPods and stainless steel mesh to make eye-catching and innovative rings, bracelets, necklaces, brooches, wall displays, chairs and sculptures. See here for a more detailed profile of Liesl’s work.

In this post, we hand the reigns over to Liesl who reflects, for us, on her past 12 months – what she did with her grant, what she designed, who she met, what new skills she learnt and what impact the scholarship has had on her career. You can also visit the Museum to see some of Liesl’s jewellery designs on display near the main cafe on Level 3 and her very ‘wirey’ chair for the ‘Re-loved – Designer Stories’ installation on Level 2.

Collection of rings made from telephone cables. Image courtesy of Liesl Hazelton.

It was like I was moving too fast for my legs to catch me. While I stumbled and stomped, it felt like a whirlwind as I finally tumbled and rolled to a safe, but shaken stop. Now looking back from where I came, I know I had fun. I would not have wanted this experience to be any different and I am confident that everything turned out okay!

I have shaken myself off…I am now ready…

I was awarded the NSW Design Travelling Scholarship in 2009. When I was told, I was living in Amsterdam – working as a jeweller’s assistant and part of the Redlight Design Team. The original plan was to relocate to Germany, work again with the Fasanenhof (a sheltered workshop in Stuttgart), prepare a solo exhibition and establish ‘Whole Lotte Love’ in Europe.

I thought about this and questioned when it would be time to do something for myself? After studying for the past 5 years, I was reaching the cut-off limit for an emerging artist. So, I left and I received the award. But, did I want to go somewhere and study again? Work as an intern? Or, meet someone I admire?

I was stunned. I have never had an opportunity to do something for myself, at the expense of someone else, other than my parents! I was thrilled to think that if I wanted, I would be able to live in another part of the world without having to work in an Irish pub to fund myself!

At work. Image courtesy of Liesl Hazelton.

I had a plan. I wanted to meet Kwangho Lee in Seoul, Korea. I wanted to have a show in New York City and I wanted to go to Guatemala/Central America and learn traditional techniques of weaving and embroidery. I wanted to make this a trip which would challenge my creativity and my comfort zone.

Textiles in Guatemala. Image courtesy of Liesl Hazelton.

I returned to Australia. I was away 3 months this time (I am usually away for years!), but I covered a lot of ground. Three months, five countries. I had achieved all I planned out. I came home to prepare for the Programmed Show in Brooklyn, NYC. For this, I made jewellery with obsolete electronics – the focus was rethinking the relationship with these electrical objects that are no longer in use.

iPod dial necklace. Image courtesy of Liesl Hazelton.

But, I was in the right café at the right time in February. I overheard a conversation about a machine which could press metal in a way I didn’t think possible. I piped up and from this meeting I made some new friends and I was invited to show at the Australian Design Museum at Shapiro Gallery, Woollahra. So, what was my name doing on an invite with Marc Newson, Robert Foster and Blakebrough-King? Maybe getting comfortable? Maybe getting too big for its boots?

Bits of mini iPod ready to be made into jewellery! Image courtesy of Liesl Hazelton.

Next…Pecha Kucha at the MCA talking about the work I did with the Fasanenhof in Germany. I was nervous…actually, I was scared! It was hot in there, but it was summer. And, it was most eyes on me – although, I guess I was talking loudly into a microphone! After all 20 slides and 20 seconds for each, I didn’t even have time to undress the front row of the audience! This was something that I didn’t think would come from the scholarship, but having now done a lot of public speaking, I am getting so comfortable, I can talk at weddings and do karaoke straight!

But…Sydney Design is now upon us which means there is another new scholarship announcement!

Cable embroidery. Image courtesy of Liesl Hazelton.

So, in retrospect, the scholarship definitely gave me experiences I would not have considered or maybe even pursued otherwise. It opened doors into other fields of design and it gave me credibility in my industry. It caused me to become more critical and it made me question my work and think about what I was to say with it…because now, I have an audience.

Radiogram by Achille and Pier Giacomo Castiglioni

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Castiglioni is a name surely synonymous with “cool”?!

Achille and Pier Giacomo Castiglioni designed this radiogram for Brionvega in 1966. It was based on their approach that design must restructure an object’s function, form and production process and following this led them to reinvent all the products they were commissioned to design. This didn’t stop their products being fun, however – the designers of familiar icons such as the arching ‘Arco’ lamp and the tractor-seat stool ‘Mezzadro’ gave their design a playful, yet stylish form and mix of materials. For example, the RR 126 radiogram, which has just gone on display at the Powerhouse Museum as part of Sydney Design 2010 and the upcoming guest lecture to be presented by Achille’s daughter, Giovanna, exudes high-tech and superb quality, while at the same time smiling at its observers through its playfully arranged dials and knobs, which form a face. The speakers can be easily hung on the sides of the body (as displayed in the photo here) or the generous wiring allowed them to be placed elsewhere on the floor to best suit the listener. The original white colour has mellowed to a cream, but the original contrast with the brown ‘seams’ on the edges still shows the original intent.

The brothers’ imaginative and uncompromising approach to design has made them a powerful and influential force in design and their products are represented in museum collections all over the world. In particular, their incorporation of ready-made utility items such as a tractor-seat, bicycle seat or car headlight lent their work a thought-provoking air of the subversive artist, such as Marcel Duchamp. Philosophical maybe, but while considering our surroundings – listening to 60’s LPs, or standing on the set of a James Bond movie, there’s no doubt about it – this radiogram is groo-vy baby!

You can read more about Achille Castiglioni and the breadth of his work on the Museum’s online design resource, D*Hub, here. The RR 126 Radiogram will be on display in the Museum during Sydney Design.

Sydney Design 2010- Featherston ‘Stem’ chair

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Sydney Design 2010 starts on Saturday and runs until August 15. For the next two weeks, we will be blogging exclusively on design, everyday, under this year’s theme ‘Tell us a story’. As a taster, you’ll be able to discover more on Achille Castiglioni and the RR 126 Radiogram, the ‘Creating the Look: Benini and fashion photography’ exhibition, the Australian International Design Awards, the unique jewellery pieces of this year’s design travelling scholarship winner, Liesl Hazelton, designer-makers featured in our ‘Young Blood’ markets, SD10 events, talks and tours as they happen and in this post, the Featherston ‘Stem’ chair.

In fact, we begin with the ‘Stem’ chair because it will be on display in the Museum’s foyer from tomorrow (and, I must say, it’s well worth a look!). The chair belongs to a 5-piece setting designed by influential Australian post-war designer Grant Featherston, and his wife Mary, in Melbourne, 1969.

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

The chair signifies the innovative use of new plastics technologies in Australian furniture, which Grant and Mary had already started experimenting with in their earlier Expo 67 chair. This chair was commissioned by Robin Boyd for the world exhibition in Montreal, Canada (which ran from April 28 – October 29, 1967) and was formed from a polystyrene shell upholstered in polyurethane foam and wool.

Although plastics were widely used in the 1960s, they were not common to furniture production. The ‘Stem’ chair, made by Aristoc Industries Pty Ltd, was formed from a rotationally-moulded, high density polyethylene shell. Its innovative design and use of new technologies foreshadowed the move to making integrated one-piece plastic chairs (this honour can arguably go to the ‘Selene’ chair by Vico Magistretti, produced in Italy in 1969, and in Australia, the Sebel ‘Integra’ chair of 1973) and helped to revive the local furniture manufacture industry at a time when they were under threat by foreign imports.

The ‘Stem’ chair took 18 months to develop from concept to production. Its design was inspired by the organic forms of flowers, seed pods and shells and references Eero Saarinen’s earlier ‘Tulip’ chair of 1956.

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

In 2006, the Museum’s former Curator of Architecture and Design, Anne Watson, interviewed Mary Featherston about the highs and lows in the development of the ‘Stem’ chair. You can read this interview and more about the influential work of Grant and Mary Featherston here.

The ‘stem’ chair will be on display in the Museum’s foyer throughout Sydney Design.

Black box inventor David Warren: a tribute

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

The black box flight recorder was invented in Australia – and championed into production and use – by chemist and aeronautical expert Dr David Warren, who was born in 1925 and died this week. He was curious and clever (qualities needed to be an inventor) – and persistent (the extra quality needed to be a successful innovator).

Tragedy struck David’s family when he was nine years old. His father died in an aircraft crash, when a De Havilland plane travelling from Launceston to Melbourne was lost over Bass Strait. There were no survivors and no clues as to why the plane went down, leaving just an oil slick and unidentifiable pieces of wreckage floating briefly on the water’s surface.

The last gift from his father was a crystal set, a basic type of radio receiver. One from our collection is pictured below.

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

This gift led to David’s lifelong interest in electronics. He studied chemistry to PhD level and in 1949 went to England for training in rocket science. While he was there, he saw the world’s first jet airliner (the first jets having been made for military use), the De Havilland Comet, at Farnborough air show. The Comet promised faster travel and a shrinking of Australian’s sense of isolation from the rest of the world; David must have been impressed.

In 1953, he was working at the Australian Government’s Aeronautical Research Laboratories in Melbourne when the first Comet set off for Australia. The plane crashed on take-off from Karachi airport en route. Other Comet crashes followed. David, now an expert on aviation fuel, was involved in the search for reasons for these disasters.

His deep interest in electronics came into play at this point. He had recently seen a neat device: the world’s first portable sound recorder, which used steel wire as the recording medium. He imagined such devices being installed in plane cockpits, recording the words spoken by the crew, giving investigators vital clues for crash analysis.

David later worked out how to record instrument data, converted to dots and dashes like Morse code, as well as voices. However, his brilliant ideas and the research he did to back them up were not applauded by local aviation officials; they thought that all they would hear was pilots swearing. This is where that third quality, persistence, came into play – along with interest from English officialdom. The road to regulatory approval and successful manufacture was tortuous, but by 1963 one English company was ready to go into production: S. Davall and Sons.

Visitors to our Success and Innovation exhibition can see a black box flight recorder that was made by Davall in the 1960s. It is the ‘red egg’ in the photo above: red so it’s easy to find after a crash, and rounded to give it some chance of rolling away from burning wreckage. Despite its colour and shape, the name ‘black box’ has stuck.

‘Black box’ is a metaphor for a device whose workings we don’t understand or need to understand, but whose output is interesting. We are thankful to David Warren, who did work hard to understand difficult concepts and create a clever new device. His bright idea did not make him wealthy or bring him much fame, but it has contributed immensely to the safety of flight by helping investigators to understand crashes, regulators to introduce new standards, and manufacturers to improve their planes.

Thanks also to Janice Peterson Witham, whose book ‘Black box: David Warren and the creation of the cockpit voice recorder’ tells his story so well. I am indebted to her for much of the information in this blog.

Giving beetles the boot!

Photography: Celia Johnstone © Powerhouse Museum, all rights reserved

My name is Katrina Trewin and I am currently completing a placement in the Museum’s Archives. The professional placement forms part of my Master of Information Studies degree at Charles Sturt University, which I am undertaking via Distance Education thanks to the magic of online subject delivery!

During my time here at the Powerhouse Archives, I have been working on arranging and describing the archive of Enoch Taylor & Co., a shoe manufacturing company which has operated in Sydney from 1851 through to the present day. The Museum Archives acquired this collection in 2009, together with several shoes produced by Enoch Taylor & Co, during the company’s peak in the 1940s-1950s. The archive complements the collection of shoes and serves as an important historical resource for shoe manufacture and shoe import in Australia, as well as reflecting the changes in social custom and fashion through the decades.

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

My favourite items in the archive are the promotional catalogues, which showcase various shoe designs. The catalogues are undated, but from the illustrations and typography it appears they were produced in the 1930s or 1940s. Other interesting items in the archive include press copy letter books from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, through to 1925. I have never come across letter books before and was interested to learn that this is how copies were made prior to the use of carbon paper. There are letters about the day to day operation of the company, and every so often a reference to the impact of World War I on shipping and labour.

As it turns out, the museum’s relationship with Enoch Taylor & Co. began long before the acquisition of this collection. In the Institutional archives, Archives Manager Helen Yoxall discovered a letter from the company to the Museum, dated 1891. The letter seeks the museum’s advice about an insect that was attacking shoes at the Enoch Taylor & Co. warehouse. The Museum’s entomologist, Walter Froggatt, identified the beetle and made recommendations for its eradication. The Museum subsequently published Froggatt’s work in 1892, no doubt sealing the fate of all the beetles munching on leather shoes throughout Sydney at the time!

Thankyou to everyone in the Museum’s Registration department, especially Helen Yoxall, for making me welcome. It’s been a valuable learning experience and great to see behind the scenes of museum collection management.

Katrina Trewin, Archives Intern

Editor’s comment: Also in the Enoch Taylor collection and archive is, what we believe to be, a shoe gauge (for measuring the thickness of boots made for the army). However, we aren’t certain of this and would like to know more. If you think you might be able to help, please click here.

225th birthday of our Boulton and Watt engine – and a search for two birthday buddies

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

We plan to steam our engine on 22 July to celebrate the 225th anniversary of its installation in Whitbread’s London brewery. The only known reference to its first steaming is a letter dated 1 August 1785 from engine erector James Law to his boss, James Watt, and held in the Boulton and Watt Archives, Birmingham City Council:

‘Sir I thote it proper to let you know wat I was about the millwrites say the will finish nexte week I set the engin to moofe the 22 of the last month I colde a set on the weeack before but I hoped for the copper smiths worck and set on with out it at last the clarkes and the engin house was full but thank god I found very lille defects sir I think a are vessel of a good sise is better than a small one a engin will set an better Mr Witebread and a Lord and Ladys came to see the engin stand and do see me ow soon I colde set it to worke which we did very well…’

Without pausing to draw breath, let alone start a new paragraph, Law goes on to complain about the cost of living (‘washing, mending and vitles’) in London. He requests a wage rise so he can clear his debts and support his family, who probably stayed in Birmingham while he travelled from place to place to erect engines (from parts made by several suppliers) and to troubleshoot for Boulton and Watt.

It seems Law erected the engine but did not start it immediately for two reasons: he was hoping Whitbread would give him some coppersmith’s work; and the millwrights had not finished installing the new gear wheels and shafts through which the engine would drive the existing brewery equipment. I guess the reference to coppersmith’s work means his bosses let him earn extra money on the side to help pay for his washing, mending and other necessities.

Law says he only started the engine when Mr Whitbread arrived with some dignitaries and asked to see it working. However, he must have had the boiler warmed up to be able to do so at short notice, so he was probably about to give it a test run. Perhaps his earlier statement that ‘the Engin house was full’ means that the brewery’s clerks and other staff were also present, which would have been an appropriate way to mark the event.

In 1887, after a long working life, the engine was dismantled and sent by sailing ship across the world to Sydney’s Technological Museum, where a new engine house was eventually built for it (after years of lobbying the NSW government for funds – and a suggestion, by the professor who had requested its donation from Whitbread, that it should be given to Melbourne as it seemed Sydney did not really want it). The drawing shows the engine at the end of its working life.

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

In the 1920s an electric motor was installed to turn the engine’s flywheel, giving visitors an idea of how it looked in motion. In 1984 the engine was dismantled again, trucked to Castle Hill and re-erected. A tall shed was built around it to house it during restoration. The photo below shows Bert Bruin, mechanic, and Bill Bannister, project manager, with the engine in its temporary home.

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

The engine was later dismantled one more time and re-erected in the Powerhouse, where we will celebrate its 225th anniversary by running it on steam at 11.15 am, 12.15 pm and 2.15 pm. As they do each day, volunteers will present talks about the engine and answer visitors’ questions.

Celebrations of the engine’s 200th birthday were held on Sunday 21st July 1985 with hundreds of steam buffs, plus Museum staff and Patrons, on hand to watch Bob Debus (the NSW Minister assisting Premier Neville Wran in the Arts portfolio) wave his hand to signal the raising of the roller shutters of the Boulton and Watt shed and reveal the engine running on steam.

While no Lords or Ladies were present, two actors in dress coats played the parts of Matthew Boulton (Ernest Butchard) and James Watt (Doug Ramsay) in a ‘charming and instructive colloquy’, to quote a newspaper report by Leo Schofield.

The invitation to the event had been worded:

‘Come and see Mr Watt’s stupendous Steam Engine steaming once again and enjoy fine English fare.’

Schofield served up the following riposte:

‘the deep fried chicken seemed to owe more to Kentucky than to Birmingham or London.’

Perhaps this dish was selected in homage to the Scottish-born James Watt, as it’s been suggested that the Scots introduced fried chicken to the southern USA. At least haggis and clapshot weren’t on the menu!

An article in a Mollymook newspaper also covered the event, as Butchard lived there. It carried a photo of the actors with two girls, aged about 3 or 4, who were also celebrating their birthdays. We are hoping to make contact with those young ladies, who would now be in their late twenties and most likely had parents who were steam buffs. Can you help?

Mystery Object

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

This week’s mystery object has a 25 cm steel shaft and a wooden handle on one end.

Is it?

a) a device for removing tulip bulbs from the ground
b) a device to remove teeth
c) a key to a safety box (circa 1800s)

Give it your best shot in the comments!

ANSWER:

the Answer is b) a device to remove teeth!

The object is a ‘toothkey’, which would have been used by your friendly local blacksmith to pull out your rotten teeth. Just keep that in mind next time you are at the dentist!

Conservator’s Corner- Using digital photography to recover daguerreotypes

One of the Museum’s projects has been condition reporting, treating and re-housing the Early Photography Collection of Daguerreotypes and Ambrotypes.

The daguerreotype was one of the earliest forms of photography. It is a permanently fixed, mirror-like silver image on a polished copper plate. By adjusting the angle it is held by, you can see a positive or a negative image, or it can appear like a mirror. It was a one-off and very delicate – the image can be destroyed by touch.

The daguerreotype was encased in an enclosure made from a variety of materials – glass, wood, leather, textile and paper. These materials all deteriorate differently and may also interact deleteriously with each other. This means that there is no perfect way to treat and store the whole object.

This 1850s daguerreotype of Melbourne had been dismantled previously. It was in pieces and very dirty. The image was very faded and difficult to decipher either with the naked eye or normal photography.

Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Conservator Rebecca Main removed the glass, matte and daguerreotype plate from the case and cleaned them. Because the daguerreotype itself could not be touched, the loose specks, dust and pieces of grit were removed by blowing on it with a photography dust blower.

The cleaning made the image a bit more readable, but it was still very faint to the eye. While cleaning it had become apparent that the negative image was sharper, with much more visible detail than when viewed as a positive.

Cleaning the daguerreotype metal plate.
Cleaning the daguerreotype metal plate

The uncovered, cleaned image was then re-photographed by photographer, Chris Brothers. The previous photos had been of the plate as a positive image, this time it was done as a negative image. The plate was held at different angles by Rebecca until the image was at its clearest. Chris took photos of the plate in sections, with a flat softbox light almost directly behind the photographer, making it possible to capture the negative image. Taking photos of the daguerreotype in sections allowed for much flatter and consistent lighting as well as improving the quality and details.

Bottom right hand corner of the daguerreotpye when viewed at a negative angle.

Bottom right hand corner of the daguerreotpye when viewed on a negative angle

Using the Photoshop computer program, the different images were composited –stitched together and inverted to create a new positive image. This revealed far more of the original detail of the daguerreotype.

The combination of conservation treatment, digital photography and image manipulation made it possible to retrieve visual information which had appeared lost when the object was examined by a conservator in 1983.

The composite image reveals much more than the actual positive image.
The composite image reveals much more than the actual positive image

The reassembled object is stored in a clamshell box. The box is constructed from acid free mountboard containing Zeolites or molecular traps. If there are chemicals given off from the daguerreotype or it’s enclosure materials, they will be absorbed by the zeolites. This will create a more neutral micro environment that will help stabilise the object.

Because the photoshopped image contains far more easily visible information, the actual object can safely remain in storage, and the digital image can be used as a research resource.

Conservator’s Corner: Caring for maps

One of the flattened maps, showing a large tear. Photography © Powerhouse Museum, all rights reserved.

One of the Museum’s paper conservators, Dee McKillop, has been working on a set of navigation maps including one titled ‘Montague Island to Beecroft Head’. The map collection has not been treated since it came into our collection some time ago. The maps were in a poor state as they were rolled, creased, torn and were quite dirty and dusty.

Half way through the cleaning process, the rubber, brush and metal stencil were used. Photography © Powerhouse Museum, all rights reserved.

There are 56 maps in all and they vary in size from 500 x 500mm up to 1500 x 600mm. After the maps were photographed, the next step was to flatten them slowly – this is called the ‘relaxing phase’. The maps were flattened between layers of thick blotting paper for a period of many weeks. Eight maps were flattened at a time. Acid free cardboard was placed on top of the pile for extra weight. The maps gradually acclimatised and flattened out.

Conservator, Dee McKillop, trimming the japanese tissue repair. Photography © Powerhouse Museum, all rights reserved.

The next step was to surface clean the maps to remove the loose dirt and dust. Dee brush vacuumed the loose dirt off and then used a chemi sponge (dry cleaning sponge) to do a gentle clean all over the paper. This is particularly important over pen, ink or pencil markings. After that, Dee used a firmer rubber (Mars Staedtler) to clean the plain areas of the map. She was able to remove dirt from very small areas near the pen, ink or pencil markings using a metal stencil. The tears in the maps were repaired with feathered japanese tissue paper and starch paste, drying under weights.

The flattened, cleaned and repaired map ready for storage. Photography © Powerhouse Museum, all rights reserved.

The project is nearly finished and the maps will soon be interleaved with acid-free tissue paper and put into plane cabinets in our climate controlled paper store.

Kate Chidlow and Dee McKillop, Conservators