Left and Leaving: PAP and Haiti

So about four days after my return from Haiti, I finally sit down to finish this post.  Much like the previous one, I've sat down countless times to write this and either the internet would go down or I would lose my words.  There's so much to say still and I struggle with finding a way to say them.

Flying over Haiti on return to MIA

I will start by saying that Haiti has been one of the hardest and most heartbreaking places for me to leave.  Usually, as I finish an excavation or internship project, I find myself a little sad to leave, but always glad to be coming home -- especially when I'm returning to Canada.

Not so this time around.

This is not to say that I'm not super excited to see my family and friends, especially the people I haven't seen since I left for Los Angeles two years ago.  The simple fact is, I wasn't done.

I've said this in a previous post, the Haitian people are a remarkable people, if not for their tenacity, than certainly for their endurance.  And despite everything, they remain gracious, and they continue to live their lives with a smile.  I often find these qualities to be lacking in our own society, where we expect to be lauded for surmounting every single hardship from successfully filing our taxes to running our first marathon.  How does this compare to surviving an earthquake, a hurricane and a cholera epidemic, all while living in a 'house' of blue tarps and corrugated metal sheeting?

Tent city directly across the street from our hotel.

One room of many stuffed to the gills with objects

I have also further confirmed to myself my own near pathological need to be needed.  In the US and Canada, I am one of 30 or so objects' conservators spat out into a saturated market every June.  In Haiti, I serve a purpose - I am useful.

My last week in Haiti I was working in the Lehmann Gallery, which as I've mentioned previously, is the largest repository of deconsecrated Vodou objects.  It is also a town house positively packed with thousands upon thousands of objects of profound cultural significance, all in need of conservation work.  The current work taking place in the Lehmann house consists solely of superficial cleaning (read: vacuuming), cataloguing and re-storing on better shelving units.  Given the number of objects in the house, there is conservation work for an entire lifetime in this collection alone - not mentioning the objects from the collapsed Centre D'Art, the Musee Nationale, and so on.

The friendships that I've formed with the Haitian staff at the Cultural Recovery Centre only serve to further reinforce my desire to return.

Working with Haitian Conservation Assistants in the Lehmann Gallery

Marianne Lehmann, the collection's owner works with us to catalogue the objects.

Collections Manager for the Lehmann Gallery - Marie-Lucie Vendryes.

Some of my conservation colleagues have asked for me to talk some more about the actual treatments that I've conducted.  I've resisted going into detail before now for a few reasons.  The first one being that, though this is about my 'adventures in conservation' so to speak, the blog is meant for family and friends, first, and for the conservation world, second.  So I'm trying to strike a balance that provides some details without becoming boring for non-conservators (because, let's face it guys, it takes a special kind of person to find cleaning a 10 square foot piece of plaster with a Q-tip fulfilling :p).

Said large plaster object cleaned with a cotton swab, water and mild detergent (read: Q-tips, soap and water).

The second reason is that, by large and far, the conservation treatments that I'm undertaking are not particularly 'mindblowing', as it were (which is not at all to say that I find the work any less fulfilling, but simply, that there's not much to write about).  In essence, as it is to be expected from this type of project, much of the conservation works involves dry cleaning, followed by some sort of wet cleaning (usually water and a mild surfactant/detergent, occasionally ethanol), and in a very rare instance, a partial reconstruction.

As I mentioned in the previous post, I was finishing the cleaning of the Haitian 'Acte d'Independance', a 7'x7' slab of plaster backed by concrete with the 'Acte' written in brass lettering.  In general, the plaque was heavily soiled from exposure to the elements, with some very minor damage to the bottom that occured during its transport to the CRC.

One of the more involved treatments involved a partial reconstruction of the extant head pieces of a plaster bust.  In this instance, the fills were confined to areas that were strictly necessary for the stability of the join.
(Pictures to come at some future date - they're on another drive and I'm writing this post on a train - c'est la vie!)

In addition to my work at the CRC, last weekend was a weekend of some minor adventures as we were able to go out and visit a little around Port-au-Prince (adequate precautions taken of course!).

We went to visit the Olofson Hotel, not too far from our own hotel in downtown PAP.  Constructed into a hill side in the style of the famous 'gingerbread' houses, it is one of the few still standing and sound after the earthquake.

Salome and Saori sitting on the steps outside the Olofson Hotel

Exploring the murals inside

Enjoying a cold drink to escape the heat.

Our last night in Haiti, we returned to the Olofson Hotel to watch the performance of the rara style band, RAM playing. 

Musicians and dancers from RAM performing at the Olofson Hotel.

Ultimately, despite my sense of sadness of leaving, my experience working in Haiti was an overwhelmingly positive one.  I found myself inspired and excited for work every day - not just for the work I was doing, but because I loved the people I was working with.  Already - barely a few days back in Canada and I miss them all more than I thought I would and I hope that they know that I think of them often.

A last sunset over Port-au-Prince.