Care of a Collection.
When a print is once properly prepared and mounted, it needs no further care except protection from injury. Prolonged exposure to sunlight is not desirable, since fading may result; dampness is to be guarded against because of the danger of mildew, a terrible foe; care in handling must be exercised, so that the print be not rubbed, creased, or torn. But if these elementary precautions are employed, the print will take care of itself.
It may be worth while for the benefit of the beginner to trace the steps that are taken by a collector between the time when he becomes the owner of a new print and the time when he puts it away in his portfolios as an established part of his collection.
The first step is to examine the print with care and ascertain what, if any, processes are necessary to prepare it for mounting. If the condition of the sheet is flawless, nothing is required. If its condition is in one way or another defective, it is the task of the collector to determine whether any operation within his command can remedy the defect, and to decide how he will accomplish his end.
This is perhaps a proper place to caution the inexperienced, and in some cases even the experienced collector, against acts of vandalism. To cut down, colour, or otherwise mutilate a print, is one of those unforgivable offences which often demonstrate conclusively how easy it is for a fool to destroy in five minutes the achievement of a genius's lifetime. One well-known collector, now dead, boiled his Harunobus in paraffin to give them lustre; another painted branches into the pillar-prints of Koriusai; another cut down the size of his Hiroshiges, leaving only those portions that particularly pleased him. If the feelings of later collectors have any potency in heaven, these men are now in hell. Not only is any attempt to improve upon the artist's work a contemptible piece of presumption, but even the mere effort to repair damages inflicted by time may be an unwise venture. Frequently such injuries could be remedied by an expert were it not that some preceding bungler, with the best intentions in the world, has, out of sheer inexperience, made the injuries irreparable. For example, if a print comes into the expert's hands untouched he can literally slice off a microscopic layer of the paper and thus remove a bad surface-spot; but if the paper has been tampered with by ignorant attempts to erase, he is helpless. Tears, stains, abrasions, and chemical decomposition may yield to skilful treatment; but unless one knows with the utmost exactitude what he expects to accomplish and how he intends to proceed at every step, he had best leave the matter strictly alone, or entrust it to other hands.
If the collector will remember that, though he is the present owner of his prints, he is not the final owner, he will be impelled to move with caution in his handling of them. Long after he is dead and forgotten, generations of lovers of beauty will treasure the sheets he once owned, and he will deserve their reproaches or their thanks according to the respect he has shown for these works. He is custodian for posterity, and his trust is one worthy of careful thought. He cannot do better than bear constantly in mind what should be the golden rule for collectors in all fields: Make no repairs, institute no changes, that cannot be altered; never do anything to a work of art that cannot be undone by its next owner.
Trim no margins; it is easy to mat them. Do not try to make more decent the objectionable rendering of a nude; sell the print to some one who does not find this rendering objectionable. If the colour has faded out, do not try to paint it in; possibly some one else may find the mere black-and-white composition beautiful, and he may prefer to see even the faded work of Kiyonaga rather than Kiyonaga plus the improvizations of a doubtless less illustrious designer.
No one needs such cautions as little as do the few experts whose experience renders them competent to attempt what are almost capital operations. They are, of all collectors, the most reluctant to essay any manipulation whatsoever. To witness the repeated examinations and deliberations which the competent workman expends on so simple a question as whether or not a certain black spot shall be restored to its original orange hue is to learn a serious lesson.
The first of the steps to be taken in improving the condition of a print will generally be washing. If a print is badly wrinkled or creased, or if it appears to have dust and dirt on its surface, a bath is the best possible thing for it. A perfectly fresh print should never be washed; nothing is to be gained by it, and much may be lost. For in many cases a little of the colour will come out in the course of the process, and the brilliance of the print will suffer slightly. Certain prints should be washed only if it is absolutely necessary. Harunobu prints with transparent red in them, Shuncho's that have purple, and any print that contains a delicate pigment known to collectors as "surimono blue," should be kept out of water if possible. These colours are not fast, and they are likely to go down in tone, or even run over into the adjoining parts of the print. The yellows and greens are as a rule unchanging, but a large number of the other colours are subject to modification, particularly in the work of the Kiyonaga and Utamaro Periods. The prints of Hiroshige and Hokusai generally undergo no change.
Prints with silver backgrounds should not be washed, and pillar-prints that consist of two joined sheets of paper should be kept in water only long enough to become wet through; longer immersions will cause the sheets to separate, and necessitate troublesome work in rejoining them.
The process of washing is simple. A large vessel—a prosaic bath-tub is as good as anything—is filled with luke-warm water, and the print is put in and allowed to soak for a few minutes. If another sheet of paper has been pasted on the back of the print, this is carefully peeled off after the paste has become thoroughly wet. Adhering daubs of paste may be rubbed off with the fingers. Sometimes a very brown and dirty print can be cleaned a little by spreading it out while wet on a sheet of glass and applying a solution of some good washing-soap. Such a proceeding should be resorted to only in case of extreme dirtiness; and prolonged soaking in clear water should follow.
When the washing is finished, the print is lifted from the water and allowed to drain for a few seconds, and is then carefully spread face downwards on a fresh sheet of heavy unglazed cardboard of the kind known as "blank." By means of a large damp brush or a delicately handled cloth, the back of the print is smoothed out so that it lies perfectly flat and even. Another sheet of cardboard is then placed on top of it, and the two sheets, with the print between them, are put away under heavy weights, such as two or three portfolios, and allowed to remain untouched for twenty-four hours or more. A good deal of dirt, and unfortunately a little colour, will generally soak out of the print and into the cardboard. When dry, the print peels neatly away from the cardboard, with its surface freshened and smoothed, sometimes almost remade.
Thin, worn, or disintegrated prints are difficult to handle during these processes; when wet, they tear like damp cigarette-paper. Sometimes prints that have been damaged and skilfully mended will float away in two or three pieces upon immersion. These and other possible troubles make it advisable that the inexperienced collector venture not too boldly in trying experiments. At least let him begin on prints of no value.
After the print is dry, worm-holes or tears can be mended either by patching or inlaying. Generally it is best to dampen the paper before attempting this. The simplest form of repair is to paste back of the hole a small piece of paper of the same colour as the print. A collector will have on hand a number of worthless damaged prints of various shades, out of which he cuts pieces for this purpose. Inlaying is more difficult; it involves either inserting a piece of paper cut to match the hole exactly, or inserting loose paper-pulp which is moulded to fill the hole. Both processes require more skill than the average collector can master, and are best left to the expert.
Stains and spots present difficult problems. Some are superficial, and can be gradually sliced off with a very sharp thin knife—an operation that will invariably result in the ruin of the print if tried by a novice. Minute knowledge of the behaviour of the curious fibrous Japanese paper is necessary for success; the expert generally works under a glass, and prays continuously while he works. Stains that have soaked deeply into the paper are almost hopeless. Mildew discoloration is ineradicable. Grease-spots sometimes yield to ether, benzine, or other common solvents. The use of these is, however, a desperate remedy; they may spoil the print even if they remove the spot.
Certain chemical changes in the pigments can be reversed, and the original colour restored. The blackening of tan, that orange pigment used by Koriusai and many other artists, can be removed and the original brilliance brought back. The same is true of a certain white that blackens with time. The processes employed are, however, easily capable of misuse; and the few persons who know the methods prefer not to make them public.
If a portion of a print is missing, due to a tear or to the ravages of moths, it is legitimate and desirable to tint the paper that is used to fill in the hole so that it matches its surroundings. Water-colours and a fine brush are employed. But on no account should the surface of the print itself be painted; if the colour has worn off in spots, any attempt to restore it will merely increase the damage still further.
A very thin print, or one that has been torn in several places, is best treated by pasting on the back of it while damp a dampened sheet of thin, tough Japanese paper. The operation, simple as it sounds, is difficult and requires practice to produce a smooth result.
Some collectors paste down the four edges of their prints on thin sheets of cardboard to preserve their flatness. The practice is an undesirable one; it prevents any examination of the back of the print; and does not achieve its end, since the print and the mount expand and contract differently, and wrinkles are almost sure to appear eventually. The better practice is to apply a mere touch of paste to the two upper corners of the print, and affix these lightly to the mount. Over this is then placed a mat, with a hole cut to fit the print exactly, covering and holding down the print's edges, and protecting it from abrasions. The size of the mount and mat is determined by individual taste; 3 or 4 inches margin would seem to be the minimum desirable. After many experiments I have adopted 22½ × 15½ inches as the size for my own collection. Mr. Gookin prefers 25 × 16; but he also finds 23 × 15½ satisfactory if the economy of space is any object. As to thickness, tastes also differ; the mount should be at least thick enough not to bend much with ordinarily careful handling. Heavy Japanese Vellum makes the best mats; it is expensive, but it greatly enhances the appearance of the prints.
For triptychs and pillar-prints, a much larger and heavier mount is required than in the case of ordinary sheets. If the collector has only a few of the former, he may prefer to mount the three sheets separately, for convenience in storing, and place the three mounts side by side only when exhibiting them. If the two end sheets are mounted so that they come very close to the right and to the left-hand edges of their respective mounts, the effect of the three assembled is by no means bad; and the ease of handling them is an advantage. Only the most perfectly matched triptychs can in any case dispense with the necessity of narrow strips left in the mat to cover the junction-edges of the sheets.
Some collectors have card-catalogues in which they keep all information relating to each print. Others use the bottom of the mount under the mat for that purpose. For a large collection the former is preferable; for a small one, the latter.
The mounted prints are best kept in portfolios or Solander-boxes, laid flat on shelves and protected from dust as much as possible. Within the portfolio or box, the arrangement that is most useful is the chronological one.
There have been in the past several collections, such as the Hayashi and Wakai, whose owners felt it to be appropriate that they stamp their private seals upon the face of each print held by them. It is useless to comment upon the wisdom or unwisdom of their course; for the thing is done, and many a fine print is now indelibly branded with these insignia. But it may be pointed out that the present practice of reputable collectors does not sanction such acts. Should any collector who happens to read these lines contemplate thus immortalizing himself, I suggest that he seriously consider whether even one small seal is not a disturbing factor when injected into a design so subtly calculated as the finest prints.
Further, if one collector may so stamp his prints, all others surely have a similar privilege; and if the habit became universal, what would be the appearance of a print which, in the next two hundred years, should pass—as a print might easily pass—through the hands of twenty collectors? And lastly, is there not a certain betrayal of petty conceit when the mere temporary owner of a great work of art judges the fact of his brief ownership to be of such importance that future generations must be told of it; and so places his own emblem beside that of the creator of the print—beside the name of the immortal Kiyonaga or Sharaku?