From Transcript to Blog

From a preservation standpoint, our family’s first priority is the letters themselves.  They preserve the genuine historic record.  One step removed from that is the transcription, described yesterday.  And then there’s the blog…

The June and Art blog is an interpretation.  With June and Art, I attempt to make the historical material in our family collection accessible and interesting for a general audience.  It is a couple of steps removed from being authentic preservation.

Each item – letter, transcripts, and blog – serves a different purpose.

The value of a transcript increases according to the degree the content is valued independent of the object.  Okay, that sounds a little confusing.  But here’s how it works:  The stories in the letters – and their ability to capture the voices of June and Art – are of much greater personal value to us than the letters as objects.  If we ever lose the letters, it would be unfortunate but not a tragedy as long as

we still have the transcripts.  (On the other hand, this wouldn’t be the case with an oil painting by a famous artist – or even an oil painting by Art Price.  A digitized image of the painting would never come close to the value we place on the actual object.)

The June and Art blog interprets the historic record.  When editing the letters, I make an effort to eliminate redundancies, to streamline the main story threads, and to clarify obscure references.  When a story line leads nowhere (i.e. minor references to water rationing in 1949), I don’t include it.  I can promise that the central love story remains intact, and I’ve even carefully kept all the passages that edge ever so slightly (if much imagination is applied) toward the suggestive.  The letters are edited but not bowdlerized.

Artwork and photographs are digitized for the blog then tweaked using Picasa software to make them work better on a computer screen.  They are 21st century interpretations of the originals.

I’m very pleased with how everything looks on the June and Art blog and delighted that my parents’ artwork is now more accessible than ever before.  But the originals must remain my primary concern as we work to preserve a family collection.

© 2010 Lee Price

Transcription of Letters

As objects, the June and Art letters are charming.  My mother’s letters looked like this:

And my father’s letters looked like this:

But there’s a large gap between “charming” and “useful.”  In order to make the letters more useful and accessible, they needed to be transcribed – manually reentered into the computer via a word processing program.

At some point, my parents had separated the letters, with my mother keeping her letters and my father his.  My first step was to combine the two sets of letters (his and hers) into chronological order.  I organized the letters, placing each with its corresponding envelope into a plastic sleeve and then ordering the sleeves into three 3-ring binders.

Then I started typing.  Fortunately, I’m a fairly fast typist.  And this task offered a good opportunity to become intimately familiar with the letters and the story they told.

At first, I attempted to faithfully and accurately reproduce the exact content of the letters, right down to the misspellings.  After entering the first dozen letters, I realized that the effort to capture the misspellings accurately was too time-consuming, nearly doubling the time it took to enter each letter.  Therefore, I switched to making basic spelling corrections as I went along.

The original spelling mistakes are preserved in the letters themselves.

The transcription in Microsoft Word corrects the misspellings, but otherwise faithfully captures the content.  The transcription process helps to ensure the long-term preservation of the content by maintaining it in at least two places and through two different media.

© 2010 Lee Price

What's a Love Letter Worth?

Along with the condition reports and treatment plans, my sister and I received cost estimates for the proposed treatments on a handful of historic photos, some selected artwork, and a love letter.  It looks like a lot of

money.

What’s a love letter from 1949 worth?  If you mean, what can it fetch on eBay, the answer is probably not much.  In the case of the June and Art letters, the paper was cheap in the first place and has deteriorated since.  There was nothing special about the ink either.  There’s no association with famous people.  Just a set of ordinary 1949 love letters.

You can’t calculate the value of a family item in the usual way.  It’s not a question of what it’s made of or how high it could go at auction.  There’s a different calculus involved.  The paper and the ink are tied in with lives that in some way have touched yours, either directly or down through the generations.  There are echoes of passion, work, relaxation, mistakes, regrets, joy, and despair.  We’ll never fathom all the long chains of cause and effect, but this yellowed paper is a reminder that the links between then and now are real.

A frequent question that conservators hear is:  Any idea what it’s worth?  Ethically, the conservator isn’t supposed to respond.  That’s a question for an appraiser, not a conservator.  But when you’re dealing with family items, it’s not really even an appropriate question for an appraiser.

I know my parents treasured these letters.  They kept them safe through the years, knowing they were so much more than just paper and ink bought at a five and dime store.

My sister and I have the condition reports, the treatment plans, and the cost estimates.  Technically the money will be going to stabilize the paper and ink but the real value will be in its preservation of our family story.  It starts looking like a bargain from that perspective.

© 2010 Lee Price

Translating the Treatment Plans

The condition reports on our family collection items were a bit scary.  The artwork, period photos, and letters from the June and Art collection were—to varying degrees—soiled, discolored, stained, warped, rippled, and torn.

But these are problems with solutions, and the solutions are provided in the treatment plan sections.  As with the condition report, the language of the treatment plan is highly technical.  I’ll hazard a few interpretations here, pulled from the many steps involved in each treatment:

From the treatment plan for a love letter:

-- Test the support and media for stability and sensitivity prior to treatment.

The support is the paper.  The media is the ink.  So this is a test to make absolutely sure that the ink isn’t going to dissolve and spread when exposed to any water or chemicals involved in the proposed treatment.  The conservators will cautiously test first before starting the treatment.  I appreciate the caution!

Art Price with monkey on his shoulder.

 From the treatment plan for a photograph:

-- Consolidate lifting edges and areas of cracking emulsion with a gelatin solution.

-- Mend the tears and re-attach fragments with wheat starch paste and mulberry paper.

This poor beat-up photograph is obviously in need of some loving care.  The picture is cracking up and there are tears breaking the image into fragmentary pieces.  While gelatin, wheat starch, and mulberry may sound like the ingredients of a snack food, these are important tools found in the arsenals of all paper conservators.  Mulberry paper is a particular favorite among conservators—it's strong and lightweight.   Wheat starch paste does the job of scotch tape, attaching one thing to another but without the inevitable long-term damage of the tape.

Fabric textures by
June Anderson.

From the treatment plan for a drawing of fabric textures by June:

-- Realign tears and mend from the verso with wheat starch paste and narrow, torn strips of Japanese paper.

The verso is the back of the paper, so the conservator is flipping the piece over and lining up the pieces like puzzle.  The Japanese paper has extra long fibers that hold everything together for a strong repair, plus it doesn’t discolor.  Only the best for our family artwork!

© 2010 Lee Price

Common Problems with Letters

I told Samantha Sheesley, Conservator at the Conservation Center for Art and Historic Artifacts, that I found a paper clip on one of the June and Art love letters.  When I removed it, the reddish-brown image of the paper clip remained.

“That’s typical,” she said.  But I did the right thing in removing it.  Rust will discolor and weaken the paper.  You carefully slide off the paper clip, throw it away, and live with the stain.



Another common problem – although only found in one instance in the June and Art letters – is pressure-sensitive tape.  These scotch tapes and masking tapes are the bane of conservators.  The adhesive penetrates through the paper, leaving an ugly yellow scar.  As for the tape itself, it doesn’t even do its job right.  Eventually, it dries out and falls off, leaving nasty adhesive residue still on the paper.

According to Sam, you shouldn’t attempt to remove the tape yourself.  The risk of tearing or skinning the paper is considerable.  She recommends either leaving it alone or taking it to a professional conservator to remove.

Pressure-sensitive tape attaching a
feather to a card.

And the last problem is (thankfully!) one that we didn’t find at all in the June and Art letters.  Sometimes letters are stored in warm, damp, dark places that breed molds.  You’ll probably see it if it’s there – sometimes they can be quite psychedelic, Sam says – and you may smell it, too.  It’ll have a mildew scent.  If that’s your problem, don’t mess around with it.  Either throw it out, or schedule a visit to take it to a conservator.  It’s not something to keep around the house.

Thanks so much to Samantha Sheesley for her gracious consulting on letter preservation this past week!

© 2010 Lee Price

Old Paper vs. New Paper

Examining the June and Art love letters (1949-1951), Samantha Sheesley, Conservator at the Conservation Center for Art and Historic Artifacts, commented on the problems with acidic twentieth century wood-pulp

Thomas Jefferson letter from the
collection at the David Library of the
American Revolution
(Washington Crossing, PA).

papers.  “Normally the letters and manuscripts that we are asked to work with are much older,” she said.  “They present a different set of physical and chemical problems.”

For instance, here’s a letter that Thomas Jefferson wrote at Monticello in the early nineteenth century.*  Like most of the letters of its day, it’s written on cotton rag.  After 200 years, the paper remains flexible due to the length of the paper fibers and discoloration is minimal due to the lack of acidity in the sheet.

By comparison, my parents’ letters are on wood pulp paper.  It’s lost much flexibility and is
turning an ugly yellow.  I wish these letters

Letter from June Anderson to
Art Price, 1949.

were holding up better – after all, it’s only been 61 years.  I guess it’s a good thing that the John and Abigail Adams love letters will outlive the June and Art letters, but on a personal level it’s a bit upsetting.

But I bet my mother would have been surprised to see her letter compared to Thomas Jefferson’s!

* Special thanks to the David Library of the American Revolution in Washington Crossing, PA for agreeing to share this beautiful example from their collection!

© 2010 Lee Price

Love Letters as Objects

I asked Samantha Sheesley, Conservator at the Conservation Center for Art and Historic Artifacts, for her thoughts about the June and Art love letters – not the content, but the physical objects themselves.

According to Sam, both June and Art wrote on commonly available machine-made wove paper, usually with a linen texture.  June tended to use matching envelopes.  Art’s envelopes rarely matched and were frequently of cheaper, more acidic quality than the letters.  All the paper involved, both the letters and the envelopes, were originally a brighter white and are now moving toward a yellowish-brown color, typical of discoloration from inherent acidity and exposure to light.

There are ways of slowing the degradation of the letters – such as storing them at a cool uniform temperature, keeping them in the dark, and storing them with microchamber paper which contain zeolites (molecular sieves to trap pollutants) – but slowing the degradation process is the best that you can hope for.  In Sam’s words, there’s “lots of inherent vice built into modern material.”

June and Art usually wrote with ballpoint pens, which were just becoming popular in the late 1940s.  June’s pens tended to leave unsightly blots of ink on the paper which often bleed through to the other side.  Sam says the paper in these blotted areas may be slightly weaker than the surrounding paper, but proper storage and safe handling practices will help to prevent additional damages.

In the June and Art blog, I’ve removed most of June’s endless problems with pens.  But since we're on the subject of pens, here are some of June's thoughts:

“(darn pen!)”

“(the pen leaks, too)”

“As you can see, I’m back to my old pen again.  Shirl’s sister is using hers.”

“I hate this pen, don’t you?”

“How do you like the ink?  I bought some Parker’s Superchrome Ink today – it’s special for these pens.  I’ve meant to buy some ever since you gave me the pen.  I really think it writes smoother with this ink.”

 “I just filled this pen and as usual got ink all over it.  Not having a blotter, Shirl told me to wipe it on the couch.  I refused, saying, ‘No, I’m going to be neat about this.’  With that, I grabbed the nearest paper bag and wiped the pen on that.  It’s fine, except that the pretzels fell out on the floor and Shirl had the last laugh.”

And, on receiving a pen as a gift from Art:

“Does the writing look any different to you?  (I’m confused on how to fill this pen.  I’m not even sure if it’s right this time – it takes me awhile to figure these things out.)  I should have waited until tomorrow, but gee, it got here today and how could I wait?  Oh, it writes so nice and easy – I don’t need to press at all – it just glides along.  Looks like I got it filled this time, hmmmm?  Or maybe I shouldn’t mention that so soon.  Do you realize this is the first time I’ve ever written you

with my own pen?  I’ve always used Shirl’s and that you have to dip into the ink all the time.  Thank you so much.”

© 2010 Lee Price

Preservation Tips for Letters

Samantha Sheesley, Conservator at the Conservation
Center for Art and Historic Artifacts, with one of the
June and Art love letters.

We began working with the June and Art letters when my mother (June) asked my wife to organize her half of the correspondence.  This was in early 2004, less than a year before my mother died.  My wife put the letters into plastic sleeves and then into a binder.

After my father died in 2009, my sister and I discovered his half of the correspondence.  I took the letters back with me to New Jersey where I combined them with my mother’s letters, organized them chronologically, sleeved everything in plastic, and packed them into three binders.  In addition, I transcribed them into the computer (Microsoft Word) for digital preservation of the contents.

Last week, I asked Samantha Sheesley, Conservator at the Conservation Center for Art and Historic Artifacts, if we had handled the letters appropriately so far.  Her response can be summed up as:  Pretty good, but with room for improvement.

Sam recommended –

Letters in need of flattening.

Flattening the pages before putting them in the sleeves.  They flatten paper professionally at the Center but even amateur flattening is better than none if the letters can be opened and flattened safely.  My wife and I had unfolded the letters but hadn't attempted to flatten them.  Sam said that carefully placing the letter between acid free papers on a smooth flat surface under a heavy weight (like a phone book) for a day or two would help.

One leaf per sleeve, add identifying
information to white edge with
a sharpie.

Restricting myself to one item per sleeve.  I had grouped all pages from each letter, plus the envelope, into a single sleeve.  Sam strongly recommended only one sheet per sleeve, including a sleeve just for the envelope.  That’s a lot of sleeves, I protested, but Sam insisted it’s for the best.  When I argued that I wanted to keep each letter together for organizational reasons, she said to write the identifying information along the white edge of each sleeve with a sharpie.

Using a three-ring binder/storage box.  My binders were standard school issue, with the paper edges exposed to light.  According to Sam, the best storage for these papers would combine a three-ring-binder photo album structure with a clamshell storage box that keeps out light and dust.  The archival supply company Gaylord offers several possibilities.  This is a nice one:  Preservation Box.

© 2010 Lee Price

Save the Choice Stuff

All this week, we’ll be covering the subject of preserving letters, with special attention to the love letters of June and Art.

I’m so thankful that my parents kept their letters.  The letters survived five moves during their lifetimes, and that probably means at least five instances when they had an opportunity to clean house (and toss them in the trash) or consciously choose to preserve them.  They chose wisely.

I’m not advocating being a pack rat.
I’m in a family with some pack rat tendencies and I see very little good in indiscriminate hoarding.  There’s a big difference between selective preservation and clinging to everything.  With my parents, many possessions came and went while the letters remained, tidily kept in boxes and probably rarely looked at or thought about.

Save the choice stuff.

A letter from the past can:

-- Provide invaluable genealogical information.

-- Clarify where people were at key moments.

-- Offer insight into past events.

-- Suggest reasons why life unfolded in the way that it did.

-- Create new ties and understandings through shared linkages in the past.

Looking through these old letters is a constant reminder that the things we do – and the choices we make – matter.

© 2010 Lee Price

Invasion of Privacy



Three ring binders full of June and Art love letters.



Regarding the June and Art love letters, a friend shared this on a message board:  “It still..... it seems like peeking. Too personal.”

The initial plunge into family items can feel like a major invasion of privacy.  You open drawers with trepidation.  You dread what you might find under the bed…  And you wonder, is this okay?  Would they approve?  Or would they want their records burned, buried, or locked away until all parties involved have been dead for decades?

History erodes privacy rights.  Kafka’s manuscripts end up published despite his expressed wishes that they be burned.  Anne Frank’s private diary goes public.  I understand the feeling that it’s “too personal,” but there’s an historian in me who insists on peeking.

With the June and Art correspondence, the options were:  1) to destroy the love letters, 2) to keep the love letters in a secure location, unopened and unread, 3) open and read them, then put them away, or 4) open and read them and then share them with the world by blogging them real-time (minus 61 years).  Without much hesitation, my sister and I chose option 4.

There was remarkably little ethical struggle in our case.  During her last year, my mother asked my wife to organize her letters, perfectly aware that we were reading them.  We know that my parents were proud of their artwork.  They both liked new technologies.  And they certainly appreciated the value of preserving family stories and photos.  We’re pretty sure they’d like the June and Art blog.

But I can’t claim that our case is the norm.  These particular letters happen to work well as a romantic narrative.  But one shudders to imagine a blog, 60 years hence, based on sexting messages of the early 21st century.  Eventually, it’s all history and the historians will peek.