Just when I think I’ve seen it all, somebody asks me to “fix” a book soaked in Coke (or chemicals of unknown nature, or urine of unknown animal), wants me to get the audio off a cassette tape caked in mud, or wakes me up in the middle of the night to salvage a skeleton (in a closet nonetheless) from a broken and flooding HVAC pipe. Do you know how weird a wet skeleton feels? I do. And sometimes I find myself wondering, often out loud, do I really want to touch that with my hand?
Objects that are used are occasionally abused and, more often than not, eventually damaged. This disrepair can often be the fault of the object itself (inherent vice) and often manifests in disfunction. However it happens, damage and disrepair become part of the object’s story … its provenance.
These are my stories. I’m Holly Robertson, and my story is this: I was supposed to be a doctor and instead I drifted down the road of libraries and conservation. I’m not the type of conservator you’d want to treat your priceless and singular object(s); I’m a collections conservator who runs a lab that treats thousands of items a year. I currently work for a large federal library who shall remain nameless but entirely guessable. My lawyer would like you to know that of course the views expressed herein are my own and are not the official thoughts or feelings of my employer.
