Tales from a Shipping Container (aka. The Hot and the Humid)

So I've probably sat down at least 6 times in the last 4 days to finally finish writing this post - it seems that my ambition to post more often has been firmly quashed by reality (and the need to finish my thesis for submission by Friday), and a truly capricious internet connection -- especially at the lab.  Oh, and some truly momentous thunderstorms of electrical proportions that not only had me unplugging my computer and all other electronic devices, but moving furniture away from said outlets -- you know, just in case.

Nonetheless, here it is - at long last - and truly representing tales from a shipping container as I have now spent five consecutive in said shipping container - and let me tell you - it's freaking hot in there!!  Though admittedly, as the days progress, people have progressively felt more and more sorry for me, and I have since gained
a) a fan
b) a portable air conditioning unit

Neither of these things does much more than drop the temperature by more than a few degrees - but at a certain point, the difference between 38C and 34C is greatly appreciated.  If I'm lucky, maybe someone'll bring me a bucket of ice water to soak my feet in tomorrow =)  .

The view from my shipping container - watching the rain fall in the afternoon as I work on the 'Acte d'Independance'

View towards the back of the container where I worked with Haitian conservation assistant Junior Norelus on a bronze/brass bust of one of the founding fathers of Haiti.

But enough about my hot and humid working conditions -- especially since the staff have been working so hard to make it the least miserable possible for me - in addition to checking on me every hour or so to be sure I haven't expired in a heat induced stupor - onto the the actual projects!

Aside from the materials in the shipping container (which I will talk about more in detail below) - I have a number projects that I have been or will be working on during my month long stay here.  These include:

-a number of sheet metal sculptures (cold hammered and cut steel from steel drums) from the 'Centre d'Art'; treatment includes removal of corrosion products, local corrosion inhibition treatment and consolidation of flaking metallic paint.

Detail of flaky metallic paint after consolidation

Overall view of one of the 'fer decoupee' objects

-a rehousing/cleaning project at the Lehman Gallery.  This townhouse is owned by a Swedish woman (81 years old) who has been collecting Vodoo objects for decades.

A small part of the Lehman Collection showing years of accumulated dust

Another small piece of the Lehman Collection.

-a number of objects for ISPAN (l'Institut de Sauvegarde de Patrimoine National/The Institute for the Safekeeping of the National Patrimony) - these are the objects being housed in the the shipping container and have been my project for the last week.  They include a badly damaged plaster bust, a bronze/brass bust, the Acte d'Independance (Declaration of Independence) and a number of stone reliefs on marble.  By large and far, treatment includes cleaning and consolidation, with some reassembly on the plaster bust.

Back view of the copper alloy bust during cleaning (the white of the bottom most part is particulate matter from the collapse of the building it was housed in during the earthquake

Now -- all of my pre-program training was conducted in a field lab, either in Crete, or on the mainland in Greece, with the former being far cushier than the latter, but neither coming anywhere close to the working conditions of a museum laboratory.  The reason I say this here is to point out that working in difficult/less than ideal conditions is not new to me - not even a little bit.  I'm quite accustomed to working with hydrochloric acid without the benefit of truly acid-proof gloves or a respirator ("just sit upwind, you'll be fine!! And when those gloves get gummy, here's the box, just change 'em before it breaks through!") - or needing to use a cellulose nitrate adhesive (which ages terribly) rather than the preferred Paraloid B-72 (which tends to lose its cohesion above 40C).  But in all those instances, I've worked with a very limited array of objects - namely, ceramics and occasionally stone or metal.

Here, I run the range from iron to bronze, from plaster to papier mache, and even large scale marble.  There's no such thing as acid-free blue board out here - and Volara is worth more than gold.  Paraloid is useless on the ISPAN objects as they will be stored indefinitely in the shipping container (without the benefit of my air conditioning unit), and a single microscope is being shared by all conservators in all labs and can occasionally have a longer wait list than a kidney transplant.

Have I mentioned that I am also nearly completely unsupervised?  The head of conservation needed to return home yesterday and won't be back until after I've left (bless her, we will be in near constant contact via email and have discussed every project in detail prior to her departure).

So what have I learned since my arrival?

I've learned that there's a difference between what you think you know and what you actually know.  I've learned that if you've been taught how to think, and where to look, it doesn't matter what they throw at you.  I've learned that everything I need to know about conservation, that I really need to know -- I have been taught - by my professors (Ellen, David, Ioanna and VANESSA!!), by my pre-program and internship supervisors (Robert and Stephie) and by the people around me - who might not be conservators, but who know how to use their heads to think through a problem.

I might not know the ideal surfactant for the cleaning of outdoor plaster - but I do know how to do spot tests and cleaning tests until I find something that does work.  I might not know the best consolidant to use once my precious B-72 has been eliminated - but I know where to look to narrow down my list of alternatives.

In short - I definitely don't know every nuance of every object - but the point is, you don't need to.  Everything I needed to learn in order to figure it out as I go along, I have learned.  I know that there are people I can ask and resources I can turn to - and when those fail or are absent - I know that I can experiment until I find a suitable solution.

I also know that every time another bizarre/foreign/unknown object shows up on my desk, or I find out that I can't use either B-72 as an adhesive or acetone as a solvent, I'm still gonna freak out a little - some of it on the inside, some of it on the outside - but once the panic subsides and I'm no longer breathing rapidly in and out of a paper bag - I'll figure it out, one way or another.

If not for the challenges, what would be the fun?

Haiti - Sometimes we're pleasantly surprised, other times, we're just surprised....

So I've been in Haiti for about five days now - just finished my first week and have gone into 'enforced' exile at my hotel for the weekend.  So far, I have to say, it's been NOTHING of what I've expected (much of it for the better, to be honest)

But we'll start at the beginning - because it's a lot to take in....it always is.

Saori (the other student working/living with me) and I arrived in Port-au-Prince on Monday, sometime around noon.  The airport is small, and yet, somehow manages to contain an unheard of amount of chaos and confusion.  I'm fairly certain that even frequent flyers are baffled by the process (particularly as pertains to which carousel your luggage comes off of).

In passing - ever wonder why/how your luggage can get completely destroyed just going through airports on conveyor belts?  Well I can tell you, I witnessed several bags getting EATEN by the conveyor belt - so I'm going to go with that for cause of luggage death.

Customs and immigration is a bizarre affair whereby you fill out several ridiculously complicated forms (while standing up in line with a thousand disorganised things in your hands and a very impatient immigration staring you down with 'hurry up dammit' eyes) - which, once you stumble through it, finally, is not even looked at before being rubber stamped and sent on your way.  At which point you meet 'the gauntlet'.

Immediately after exiting customs you go through a gate at which THOUSANDS of taxi drivers are waiting for you to whisk you away - as you desperately seek a man among the faces holding a sign with your name on it.  We found our driver eventually, and he was lovely and led us a very nice and very new pickup truck.  This surprised me.  You always hear about the level of poverty and the widespread destruction here in Port-au-Prince, especially after the earthquake - but I have to say, those who live well, live VERY well.

After climbing into the truck, luggage stowed, we experienced our first taste of Haitian driving.  It's hard to describe but it makes every other place you've ever driven look like the cars are floating on clouds and tied to the road into their proper lanes.  I've been told that there ARE driving rules here - I have yet to see them.  But somehow, our drivers defy death and all odds, and somehow, without even so much as heaving a sigh of discontent successfully avoided piles of rubble, thousands of pedestrians, hundreds of taxis, mopeds, chickens, goats, pot hole literally large enough to eat your car whole, and frequent forays into oncoming traffic to get around some of these obstacles.  What should be a truly terrifying an harrowing experience becomes awe inspiring through the sheer skill and calm with which they routinely weave through it all unscathed.  Amazing.

A very colourful taxi among the general chaos of a typical PAP street. (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi)

Several street-side 'markets' and shops along the main roads of PAP. (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi)

Piles of rubble still cover many of the sidewalks and in the middle of many of the streets. (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi)

One of the most fascinating things I've found about being here (besides the fact that the Haitian people are some of the strongest, most resilient and NICEST people you will ever meet), is that our perception of them is wrong in so many ways.  When we look at pictures of PAP after the earthquake, all we can see is the destruction, the lack of progress.  We see a people who are suffering and living in tent villages because they've lost their homes.

The ruins of the Palais Nationale - former seat of the Haitian government. (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi)

One of the many tent villages which, a year and a half later, are still home for most of the population of PAP. (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi) 

It's true.  The destruction is widespread and progress is slow.  The point is, there IS progress.  Everywhere you look,  people work every single day to take back their city.  University students volunteer their time to clean rubble from the streets.  Children help the elderly to carry the heavy water jugs so that their families can drink uncontaminated water.  Scafolding hugs hundreds of buildings and rubble walls.  Everywhere you look, it isn't about the destruction and loss - it's about living and rebuilding.  I look at it now and I see how far they've come - how much progress they made in very difficult circumstances with few resources - I don't look at how much they have left to do.  That's not what it's really about.

A sign announcing last year's 150th celebration of the National Archives of Haiti, celebrating their continued service to their country on August 20th (my b-day, in passing :p) (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi)

Work to rehouse the archives at the Archives Nationale - enormous progress has been made and soon the archives will be in better form than they were BEFORE the earthquake. (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi)

People working and studying at the Bibliotheque Nationale, which survived the earthquake entirely undamaged. (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi)

One of many examples of the rebuilding process. (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi)

Essentially I've learned that the Haitian people neither want nor deserve our pity - they do, on the other hand deserve our respect.  I've seen these people work harder than anyone I've ever seen and be proud of it and their culture while they do.  It is truly inspiring.

I will likely post again in the next couple of days regarding my conservation work (since this blog entry has long since gone out of control!).  Have I mentioned that our hotel is kinda amazing (another VERY pleasant surprise!).  The food is good, there's excellent internet (Wi-fi!) and air conditioning in our room, AND there's a pool!  Also - there's a beautiful green leafy courtyard with a huge leafy tree that's all lit up in all kinds of colours at night - it's my favourite place to sit in the evening as I eat my dinner.  I will likely write my next post from there.

Saori and I eating dinner at the hotel restaurant on our second night.  It was delish! (photo courtesy of Saori Kawasumi...and our waiter, Extra...seriously, that's what his nametag said).

Next time: Tales from a Shipping Container (aka. The Hot and the Humid).