El Palacio 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. G reat 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, Suspended BY LAURA ADDISON
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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.