PLANT ARTIFACTS UNDER SCRUTINY

They have come from as far as Kenya, Australia, Denmark, Canada and England, and from as close as Redding, Calif. A mini-United Nations of art conservators, these eight carefully screened visitors are in Los Angeles at the behest of the Getty Conservation Institute.

And what are they doing here? Studying the J. Paul Getty Museum’s collection of antiquities? Consulting on plans for the Getty’s proposed state-of-the-art conservation facility, to be built on a Brentwood hilltop?

No. They are spending six weeks studying the care and feeding of artifacts made of plant materials. Most of those artifacts are baskets, but the category also includes mats, clothing, ceremonial costumes, masks and utensils.

The conservators know all the jokes about underwater basket weaving--the ultimate trivial course offered to university layabouts--but they are undaunted by cheap shots at their esoteric profession. That’s because they understand that the objects they try to preserve are loaded with cultural history.

Technology has improved so much in the last 10 years that an analysis of the residue on basket fibers can show what foods or other materials they contained, according to Dale Kronkright, one of the course instructors and a conservator at the Bishop Museum in Honolulu. He and four other instructors from the United States, Canada and Australia are training the “students”--all professional conservators--who will teach their associates when they return to their home museums.

While in Los Angeles at the Getty-sponsored course, the conservators have been squirreled away in the chemistry labs at Loyola Marymount University. For the first three weeks, they pressed their eyes to microscopes as they learned plant morphology and how to identify different fibers, and they engaged in the much maligned practice of basket weaving to learn about construction techniques. Finally turned loose to work on artifacts from the Southwest Museum’s collection, they are receiving instruction in deterioration and conservation. Participants analyze and identify the fibers of damaged baskets, make condition reports and draw diagrams. Before the course ends July 10, each of them must come up with a recommended course of action for three objects, based on the items’ composition and construction.

“It’s a wonderful program,” said Southwest Museum Director Patrick Houlihan. “We give them our most damaged goods--our tired, huddled masses--and they return them restored or at least stabilized.”

Houlihan said that ethnographic objects constitute “the most neglected area of art conservation. In directing some of its resources this way, the Getty is performing the most needed service.” He expects the training course to have a rippling effect as the conservators spread their knowledge and the Getty publishes results of its research and technology.

That is exactly what the Getty Conservation Institute has in mind, according to Marta de la Torre, director of the institute’s training programs. During an interview in her office in a temporary facility in Marina del Rey, she explained that the institute has tried to identify conservation needs that are not being satisfied by other organizations.

“There are no training programs for conservation of ethnographic material in United States universities,” De la Torre said. To fill that gap, the Getty is working on a plan to help establish an ongoing program in an American university. The current course is an interim measure.

Ethnographic objects have been neglected, she said, “because, until recently, they have been considered replaceable. But as we have lost them, we have begun to understand that we are losing valuable information about cultural history.”

Another problem is that such objects have a relatively low market value. “The attitude toward them is different from fine arts,” De la Torre said. “While paintings are appreciated for their aesthetics and the intention of the artist, ethnographic objects are documents. We need to maintain as much of their information as possible. If you wash an object, or clean away animal fat or blood, you may destroy valuable information.”

Current conservation ethics favors a minimalist philosophy, she said, which means “doing the minimum necessary to stabilize an object.” Often that entails changing the environment (the climate or method of storage or display) rather than working on the object.

The current course is the first of its kind for the Getty institute, which runs between 25 and 30 training projects annually, including the development of teaching materials. Proceeding material by material, the institute will tackle bone and ivory next year, De la Torre said. “The thing that’s so peculiar about ethnographic objects is the material. You may find nails, human hair, blood and wood all in the same object, and what’s good for one material may be harmful to another,” she said.

The training at Loyola is free to participants, but they had to secure their own funding for transportation and living expenses. The eight were chosen from a field of 50 applicants.

Tom Metho of Kenya said he applied for the course to gain experience to take back to the Institute of African Studies at the University of Nairobi, a research institution that maintains a collection of African art and artifacts.

Barbara A. Wills, of the British Museum in London, likes “the organic approach” that provides for “a marriage of skills.”

Part of Karin Schulz’s motivation for coming here from the Western Australian Museum is Australia’s upcoming bicentennial that will include displays of the country’s ethnographic artifacts.

Several participants have taken short courses on plant fiber conservation, but all say the Getty offering is the first extensive one to be offered.

Does this make them experts? No, they gasp, just more aware of problems.

And have the conservators taken time off from their basket cases to tour the city? “Oh, yes,” says Schulz. “We’re staying near the beach and we’ve visited most of the museums. The organizers of the course know we’re human.”