Inside a Conservator's Toolbox

The tools Conservator’s use to fix, repair, and clean objects in a Museum collection are pretty unique, in that many of these items come from different professions or have been custom-made to suit the job.  During a recent behind-the-scenes tour I was asked about the tools I had laid out in my tray, stuffed into foam to protect the sharp edges, and things that looked a bit like they came from another planet. I thought I would share some of the tools used in the Conservation lab, as a way to spark imagination and inspiration for anyone that has been stuck on a project not knowing what tool could be right for the job!

Diving into a different industry that Conservator’s seek tools from, would be the world of circuit boards and computer repair.  The glass bristle brush is about the size of a pen, and has a fibre glass tip that is adjustable in height depending on the work being done.  Archaeological metals, such as brass buttons or thimbles, are where these fine detailed tools work well to burnish or remove corrosion products.  A few cautions are followed when using a glass bristle brush, including wearing a respirator, safety glasses, and protecting the body with a lab coat. The fine glass bristles break off as the tool is brushed back and forth, which is why safety is of utmost importance.

Bone folders, micro spatulas, tacking irons, brass rulers, tweezers, and scalpels are a small list of names of other unique tools that we reach for most often.  It’s important that before we perform a conservation treatment on an object in the collection that we ensure the method we choose will be successful, causing no further deterioration then what has already occurred.  This means, we really have to think outside of the box, not rush into a treatment, and make sure we have the right tool (wherever that is found) for the job!

4. Repaired plant model after conservation treatment.

A common human trait is to obtain and store our belongings. And, maybe without even thinking, storing them in a relational way that makes sense to us, such as in a sock drawer, or stored together in some logical manner for use, like tools in a toolbox. At the very least, items are stored in a place where we know we can find them when we need them.

Museums around the world, including here at the Manitoba Museum, have much the same approach when storing their collections. There are over 300,000 specimens in the permanent collections of the Natural Sciences section, of all different types, shapes, and sizes, and they all need to be stored in a systematic way so that we can find them when they are required for research, education, or exhibits.

Lichen specimens are stored in individual trays, and have labels with their catalogue number, identification and data.

Images above: Left – Pinned beetles of the Carabidae Family are stored in special drawers with other specimens of the same species, separated by interior boxes. Right – Micro-fossil shells are adhered to special slides with numbered sections in order to distinguish them.

Another type of specimen that we had to devise a storage method for were fungal spore prints. Spores are the tiny microscopic structures that fungi disperse for reproduction and are thus similar in function to plant seeds. The spores are produced on the underside of the spongy or gilled mushroom cap. To assist with identifying the species of mushroom, we collect these spores, and then carefully store them. A spore print is made when mushroom is freshly collected. A piece of black paper is placed under the cap to catch the spores that will be released. The resulting print basically looks like dust in the shape of the mushroom cap. What gives us the information we need to identify them is the colour of the spores – these can be white, cream-coloured, rusty, black or brown. We have found that we can store these fragile paper prints similar to photographs. We place them in plastic CD cases, using photo mounting corners to hold the paper flat; the disk lid closes to protect the print surface from being disturbed.

These cream-coloured spores help scientists identify the species of mushroom that they came from.

Above: Taxidermied head of a Bison stored on a custom-wheeled dolly for easy transportation. It will be enclosed in protective poly sheeting for storage.

Large mammal skulls, like caribou and elk, can have enormous antlers, and certainly pose another storage challenge. We have adopted a simple and effective storage solution using heavy-duty custom metal frames that are locally fabricated. The frames are spanned with expanded metal centers, and installed where we have open wall space. The large skulls can then be secured and hung on the frame. We are fortunate in that we have large areas of open wall space!

Our next storage challenge is how to store a 25 ft. long whale jaw that weighs 200 lbs!

Our human history collection is full of special objects, highlighting significant points in Manitoba’s past –like Cuthbert Grant’s medicine chest or the replica of the Nonsuch. Yet we also make a point of collecting objects that represent everyday life in Manitoba – cans of soup, well-loved toys and farming implements. These mundane objects surprise people, since most of us consider objects we use routinely to have little historical value. Then there are objects that baffle even the seasoned museologist, begging questions like what and, most importantly, why?

Early in my days working with the human history collection, I was searching for a medical-related artifact in an area of our storage room rife with old medicine and surgical tools. I pulled an unlabeled box off a high shelf to have a look inside and was shocked to find it full of dentures –it gave me quite a start. I wish I could say it was the only time that box of dentures had scared me.

Only one pair of our dentures can be linked to a specific person; the others were donated by the Manitoba Dental Association or have no known source. So if they don’t belong to a historical figure, why collect them? Dentures have been made of various materials for centuries. Wood, human and animal teeth, ivory, bone, and porcelain have all been used to fashion false teeth throughout history. Modern dentures are made from synthetic materials like acrylic. The dentures in our collection capture techniques and materials at a specific moment in time, allowing researchers to make comparisons to older and newer generations of false teeth.

The previous artifacts are odd, true, but everyone knows that teeth are needed for chewing and enunciating and everyone loves a good laugh, but this artifact can turn stomachs and bewilder minds better than no other.

During the Victorian era, the popularity of jewellery made of human hair saw a definite rise. Hair would be collected from a loved one and woven into intricate patterns to make bracelets, brooches, earrings and necklaces. Wearing mourning jewellery fabricated from the hair of deceased relatives was common amongst Victorian women. People also made wreaths from human hair to display on their walls, often taking hair from multiple family members to complete a single wreath.

This example was made in Ontario by Mary Jane McKague and brought to Manitoba in 1881, first to Emerson by train and then transported by ox cart to the community of Coulter south of Melita where Mary Jane and her husband John homesteaded. Mary Jane died in childbirth delivering her sixth and final child in 1895. Her wreath was carefully kept by her eldest daughter and later three of her granddaughters before they donated it to the Manitoba Museum in 1985. It is one of several examples of Victorian hair art and jewellery in our collection. Even if the thought of handling human hair is unsettling, these objects are an important part of our understanding of 19^th century society, fashion and the Victorian mourning process.

What commonplace objects that we think nothing of today will give pause to museum collectors of the future? Only time will tell!

As the label suggested, inside I found a collection of insects that are known to be destructive to museum collections. Capable of eating textiles, paper products, dried plants, and furs, these little insects can be a huge problem if allowed to reproduce in the museum. The specimens were old, their data labels yellowed with age, collected between the ‘70s and the ‘90s by watchful staff right here in the Manitoba Museum. 

On an ecological note, it is important to bear in mind that there is nothing inherently “bad” about the organisms we have labeled here as pests. In nature, these insects act as nutrient recyclers and food for many other animals. It is only when their behaviour impacts the livelihood and resources of humans that an animal becomes a “pest”. In this situation, we are simply at odds – our job is to acquire and protect a vast collection of objects with historical and scientific value (or, as the pests would call it, “a huge pile of food with nutritional value”), and their job is to eat well and survive long enough to reproduce. 

All that being said, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the insatiable insects of the Manitoba Museum’s Rogues’ Gallery. 

Interestingly, the adults of this species do not eat at all, so all of the energy they need to disperse and reproduce comes from food eaten by the caterpillar. The adults of the clothes moth tend to crawl rather than fly. This slow and low movement, combined with their understated colour palette and small size, makes them exceptionally sneaky They can avoid detection by humans with ease, making vigilance and pest control measures a must. 

Black Carpet Beetle – Attagenus unicolor

The Larder Beetle – Dermestes lardarius

They eat wool, leather, silk, dried plant materials including seeds and grains, animal furs and skins, preserved insects, and even paper. The larvae of this species are particularly hazardous to our collections, as their small size combined with their capacity to climb walls allows them to get to any food that they detect. As if all that wasn’t enough, the larvae are able to bore through solid materials such as wood and plastic. In some cases, they have even been known to bore into tin cans to get at the preserved foods inside! 

Pest Control Measures

As a basic measure, food items cannot be brought into certain areas of the museum. In the galleries, many displayed objects and specimens are behind glass cases to physically prevent insect access. Baited sticky traps in use throughout the museum are an excellent way to catch insects when they are present, and monitoring them closely allows us to detect problems before they get out of hand. When new items are acquired by the museum, they are frozen twice or exposed to carbon dioxide to get rid of any insects that may be hitching a ride, even as eggs or larvae. Items held in our collections storage rooms are kept in sealed metal cabinets that can keep out even the smallest of insects. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, protection from pests relies on the vigilance of our team. Museum staff monitor items on display and in the collections for signs of insect activity such as feeding damage, shed skins, frass (for the uninitiated, that’s a technical term for sawdust from bore-holes and insect poop), as well as live insects. 

Productive Pest

Further Reading: 

For more in-depth information on our bone-cleaning Dermestid beetles, check out Janis Klapecki’s blog post, Ladies and Gentlemen…The Beetles

Other resources: 

https://extension.umd.edu/resource/clothes-moths
https://museumpests.net/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/Larder-Beetle.pdf
https://extension.psu.edu/larder-beetle
https://entnemdept.ufl.edu/creatures/fabric/black_carpet_beetle.htm 

For each mammal, I started by creating custom mittens for their paws out of Tyvek – a lightweight and durable nonwoven material that is resistant to water and abrasion, and has good aging properties. I used a sewing machine, for the first time, and stitched the Tyvek together with cotton thread so each mitten fit snug around each paw. (Pictured below, left)

The folding method can be simply described as a ‘bear’ hugging itself. Every fold is padded out with volara, a smooth closed-celled polyethylene foam, to add support and prevent creases forming in the skin. Finally, the head sits on top of the folded skin, again padded out with volara. (Pictured below, right)

For the cougar and leopard heads, custom pads were created for each head to sit on away from the body in order to alleviate stress and prevent the skin from creasing on the neck where the head armature meets the skin. (Pictured below, left)

The skins were individually wrapped in polyethylene sheets as an additional barrier from dust accumulation and insects. Custom boxes were built out of coroplast which allow for the skins to be more easily handled as they move in and out of their new home in the collections storage vault (pictured below, right). Overall, this rehousing project improved the preservation of the skins and their storage method. It freed up space, but free space does not remain long in museum collections storage spaces.

Over the past two years, the COVID-19 pandemic has played a central, and disruptive role in all our lives. In the coming decades will COVID become a significant cultural memory, or will we begin to suffer from historic amnesia? Terabytes of information may be deposited in archives around the world. For museums, even ordinary artifacts will become powerful tools to engage visitors.

At the Manitoba Museum, there were no artifacts with which we could relate the story of the influenza pandemic of a century ago. Museums around the world saw the need to begin collecting today for tomorrow. A call was put out for objects that would help mark this event from the Manitoba perspective. To date, over 70 Manitobans have responded to the call.

Over the past months, as I have been integrating these objects and their stories into the permanent collections of the Manitoba Museum, I have been amazed by the breadth and variety of the items. Here’s an initial glimpse our growing COVID-19 collection.

Manitoba’s volunteer spirit was evident early in the pandemic. Sewing machines were dusted off and used to create thousands of masks, gowns, and surgical caps to protect health care workers, friends, and family. We all strove to maintain a sense of community during the pandemic. Signs sprang up in windows, on fences, and along walking paths offering messages of encouragement.

L: Surgical cap from Surgical Caps for Front Line Care Staff. Image: © Manitoba Museum, H9-39-730
R: Sign from Keith Moen, Judy Dyck, Leif & Ruby Moen. Image: © Manitoba Museum, H9-39-348

In early 2020, graphic images of a spiked ball began popping up in the media as stories circulated of a new, potentially dangerous virus. Soon the image was being used in inventive ways. The creativity of Manitobans is evident in many of the donations that use a wide variety of media.

L: Crocheted COVID balls created by Karen Matthews. Image: © Manitoba Museum, H9-39-729
R: Beaded mask created by Kayla Eaglestick. Image: © Manitoba Museum, H4-2-621

The artists’ statements that accompany many of the pieces demonstrate how people seek solace in the arts in a time of disruption. Christen Rachul stamped his pottery with a tiny letter ‘Q’ for Quarantine. Gail Wence took up her embroidery needle, Jacqueline Trudeau her paint brush, and Laurie Fischer returned to writing poetry.

New phrases were added to our everyday vocabulary like “social distancing”, “essential workers”, “lockdown”, “pivot”, and “supply-chain”. The impact on the business community is still significant.  Remember hunting for toilet paper?

Genevieve Delaquis spent her time in line capturing many of the decals that told customers where to stand for their safety. There were also new opportunities. U of W students Alex Kroft and Niels Hurst launched a summer business producing 3-D printed face shields for front-line workers.

Manitoba families endured long periods of separation during lockdowns that robbed them of the opportunity to celebrate life’s milestones. Grandchildren were introduced to family via Zoom. Young people graduated virtually.

With the stores closed for all but essential items, Donalda Johnson created pom poms out of plastic grocery bags and decorated cars for a friend’s retirement parade. 96-year-old Helen Rempel quietly crocheted Christmas ornaments for each of her 26 immediate family members who would not be gathering in person.

Public Health officials and politicians tell us we are moving into a ‘new normal’. It is hard to predict when the Museum will be ready to create a retrospective exhibit about the pandemic. As I write this blog, I am aware that I have omitted many of donations. But in the years to come, the COVID-19 collection may be used in museum exhibits and programs or by students, historians, writers, film makers, and others to tell our story.

As part of the Manitoba Museum’s entomology collection, we house over 60,000 pinned insects, true bugs, and arachnids. In addition, there are a further ~3000 invertebrates preserved in alcohol, also referred to as “wet” specimens. While the majority of the collection are pinned insects in their adult form, there are also examples of the many and varied life stages that occur prior to the adult form, including egg, larval, nymph, and pupal forms. It is important that a scientific collection contain representatives of these life stages (including males and females of each), as they can and do look very different within any given species.

The Manitoba Museum is a research and collections-based museum whose mandate is to collect and preserve both the natural and human histories of the province for present and future generations. Curators conduct research throughout the province in their respective fields of expertise. Specimens are collected during field seasons and are brought to the museum for preparation and subsequent study. Before specimens can be handled and made accessible for study, they must be prepared to maintain their long-term preservation. Fossils need to be exposed from their matrix, plants need to be dried and mounted, and birds and mammals transformed into skins and skeletons. Insects too, must undergo a preparation process in order to stabilize them for storage, and to make them safer to handle. This is where skill meets a bit of art, and sometimes a little luck!

Once in a softened state, the insect is ready for the pinning process. The insect is gently held while a main pin is inserted through the thorax, just below the base of the forewings, and placed perpendicular to the plane of the body. Special entomology pins are used as they are made of metals that will not corrode when in contact with the insect. They come in different gauges to be used with the varying sizes of insects. A large insect, such as a butterfly, will require a thicker pin for sturdiness, and a very thin gauge pin would be used for smaller insects. Anything even smaller, or extremely fragile is “pointed”. That is, where an insect is too small to have a pin inserted, it is instead carefully glued to the ‘point’ of a small triangle of archival card stock and the main pin is then inserted through the point. This main pin is now the only way the specimen can safely be handled.

When the main pin has been properly placed, the legs, wings, and antennae must then be positioned. A pinning board made of soft balsa wood or dense foam is used for specimens with large wings such as butterflies, moths, dragonflies, or grasshoppers. It has a trough where the body can be lowered, and the wings can then be spread over the flat surfaces of the boards on either side and supported. Spreading the wings properly is a bit like the game “Twister” for the fingers. Insect wings are incredibly fragile, so carefully coaxing them away from the insect’s body without damaging them takes some practice. Add to that, the wings of Lepidopterans (butterflies and moths) are covered in fine, microscopic scales that aid in flight, waterproofing, and coloration that will break off, like dust, if touched. Forceps are gently used to spread the forewing out from the body on one side, and while holding that in place, the hind wing on the same side, is brought out and positioned. Once both wings on one side are in the proper position, a strip of glassine is placed gently over them. Glassine is a smooth translucent paper that will not abrade the scales of the wings. Pins are then inserted just through the paper and into the underlying pinning board to hold everything in place. This process is then repeated with the wings on the other side. The antennae and legs are then moved into place, slightly away from the body, and support pins are inserted into the board to hold them there. This is done so that the legs do not obscure any important identifying characteristics.

After the insect is pinned into the correct position, it is left to dry. Depending on the size of the insect, it may dry in a few days, larger beetles and dragonflies could take over a week. When it is dried, the positioning pins are very carefully removed and it is now ready for data labels to be attached on the main pin below the specimen. Labels are printed on archival paper and contain all the pertinent data about the specimen such as the identification, who collected the specimen, and when and where it was collected. This data is also entered into our collections management database. As with all specimens in our collections, it is extremely important to keep each specimen together with its data. The data proves that this exact species occurred in this time and place – it’s recorded proof of that biodiversity snapshot of that time. If the data labels ever became separated from its specimen, its intrinsic scientific value is greatly diminished, or completely lost.

The vast diversity of insects of Manitoba’s Boreal Forest is showcased in the Boreal Gallery and contains over 700 invertebrates. Image: © Manitoba Museum/Ian McCausland

Museum collections all over the world apply these same international techniques and standards when preparing and storing specimens for study. This aids in maintaining consistency between museum collections, and have changed very little over the past several hundred years.

Left: Sir Joseph Banks Insect Collection (1743-1820) Image: © The Trustees of the Natural History Museum, London. Licensed under the Open Government Licence

Right: Present-day insect collection at the Manitoba Museum. Image: © Manitoba Museum

By Carolyn Sirett, Conservator, and Lee-Ann Blase, Conservation Volunteer 

We have all seen those lifeless mannequins looking sad and lonely in a store’s window front, longing for the next wardrobe change of a new season. Here at the Manitoba Museum we like to give our mannequins a bit more attention to detail compared to their retail cousins, what some might call, a full spa treatment! 

Humans are uniquely different from one another, and our clothing choices are also uniquely different, from size to shape to style. These human qualities are well represented in our historic textile collection, and when displaying these garments, every detail is assessed to ensure its preservation. 

Dressing a museum mannequin is the opposite of fitting a living person. Instead of fitting the clothes to the person, the mannequin is made to fit the clothes. Many of the mannequins we use at the Museum have been custom made by our conservation department using conservation-quality materials. We first begin by measuring the waist, chest, neck, arm, and leg lengths. The mannequin form is then either trimmed down, or padded out with polyester fibre to reach the required dimensions to properly support the clothing. 

Once the basic form is made and covered with a suitable fabric, we begin to dress the mannequin. This is where historic photographs are useful to see how the outfits were worn, and to bring a little more personality to our frozen foam bodies. Edith Rogers’ cotton-crocheted tea gown, displayed in the Winnipeg Gallery, is a good example of using research to determine the best fit. A tea gown bridges the gap between dress and undress as a corset is not worn with it. Research shows only an upper-class woman could have afforded this type of dress among their ball, dinner, reception, and afternoon dresses. 

When this dress was chosen for display it first needed to be stabilized in the conservation lab with a fine net in the bodice and a few minor tear repairs. In order to make this garment appear as it would, we added a petticoat from the Museum’s collection to help support the textile. With the petticoat slipped over the custom form, then carefully sliding the dress on and using acid-free tissue to fill any gaps – voila – the tea gown was ready for exhibition. 

The last part of dressing a mannequin is in the finer details. The arms, hands, legs, waist, and head all need to be positioned. For the modern Pow Wow dancer in the renewed Prairies Gallery, the Curator wanted to evoke the idea that the mannequin is dancing, to look as if the mannequin is in-motion. When trying to imply movement, it can be difficult to balance the mannequin as a structure, but also to balance the preservation of the artifacts that are being displayed. 

On your next visit to the Museum, hopefully you are able to see some of these fabulously fitted forms. 

By Debbie Thompson, past Diorama and Collections Specialist 

More than 440 million years ago, during the Ordovician Period, northern Manitoba was at the edge of a sea near the equator. Among the many invertebrates that swam and lived in the salty waters were jellyfish. Their fossilized remains are the focus of ongoing research at the Museum.

After years of collecting, specific specimens were chosen to undergo a process called thin sectioning. This process creates ultra-thin slices of rock and fossil, supported by epoxy and glass slides. They are thin enough to allow light to pass through, revealing details about internal structures, which can then be studied using a microscope.

The fossils selected for this process can range in size from one to four centimeters in diameter. Every block is trimmed using a rock saw, so that the block will fit onto a glass slide.  The fossil surface then needs to be polished smooth and to an accurate scale in millimeters written on two sides of the block.

After sectioning, the slide is scanned on a photographic flatbed scanner. A computer program then digitally assembles the thin section photos for each jellyfish to generate a 3-D image of the body, including internal structures and in some cases, tentacles.