The performance of repair, previously a lifetime job in many parts of the world, has increasingly been replaced by the throwaway society, driven in large part by growing consumerism. A profound and progressive detachment from authorship and ownership, as well as policies of planned obsolescence, have turned our relationship to the material world—but also to human relationships—into one of replaceability. 

Repair must be understood as an ongoing and complex process, not as the result. It involves multiple levels of skills, intuition, knowledge, and understanding. Breakage, rupture, and signs of decay likely offer the most intimate view into our material culture and into our deepest emotions. 

Drawing from a 40-year career in the field of contemporary art conservation, I have been particularly fascinated to observe how artists themselves respond to damage, decay, and loss in their work—and in their lives. As a witness, confidant, and consultant in these often traumatic events of disrepair or gradual material disintegration, the conservator is uniquely privileged to gain insight into the material process and the artist’s intention by assessing the damage and discussing the goal of the repair. One question here remains central to the conservator, whose goal is to maintain the work’s integrity: Does the artist accept changes due to material fatigue and natural decay—or even embrace the changes as an exciting, unstoppable process of transformation? Or does the artist reject any trace of entropy and rather wish to have their work remain unchanged over the centuries? 

Driven by the time-based conflict between material integrity and the intended function of the contemporary artwork, the focus of my research at the Center has been to study the relationship of peoples and societies to their own material culture, investigating their practices of traditional repair, recycling, and reuse. Having arranged frequent visits to the extensive collections of the Smithsonian Institution and engaged in many conversations with curators and conservators in various special fields confirmed my belief that our European/American principle of preserving the “original” object is just one concept in conservation. It must not be applied to all artistic production, as for example Indigenous ritualistic objects or sacred objects still in use in West Africa. These objects, which are charged with spiritual power, have their own lives, are actively utilized, and eventually are buried once the material can no longer carry that divine power due to infestation, wear, or climate impact. 

During my six-month residency, I had many occasions to speak with my conservator colleagues at the National Gallery about their projects and about open questions in my research. For example, why do Europeans and Americans repair every dent and scratch of imperfection in an “invisible” manner, while in other cultures a blemish or a crack is celebrated and embraced as a vital part of the object’s history? What is our relationship to our own history if we remove all traces of time from a building, a painting, or a sculpture? How can we maintain the integrity of a set of contemporary busts sculpted from soap without losing its intended pristine, marble-white appearance? Is re-fabrication of a sculpture made of ephemeral material—or the reprinting of a color photograph—even an ethical option for a museum collection?

To expand the topic of “Care and Repair in Art and Societies” to a wider group of scholars, associate dean Kaira M. Cabañas and I organized a one-day colloquy, inviting anthropologists, artists, conservators, an art historian specializing in Japanese aesthetics, a scholar of material culture, and a psychoanalyst to participate in an invigorating series of discussions. The talks focused on societal aspects of care and repair: case studies on memorializing the victims of a massacre in Peru; preserving intangible cultural heritage (endangered languages, narratives, songs, music) in the Amazon; integrative, community-led conservation treatment in Hawaii; successful repatriation in Brazil; and finally the psychological framework for repair as successful mourning over the loss of the “object.”

The interest in my research topic among the conservators at the National Gallery was so strong that two meetings were organized by their staff to discuss my project and the “life of the artwork” within the museum. 

Most inspiring, however, were the weekly research circles that included the fellows’ presentations of chapters of their research, whether books or dissertations. What I enjoyed most was the openness and constructive critique among the scholars during these sessions—I learned a lot!

Contemporary Conservation Ltd.
Edmond J. Safra Visiting Professor, 2025–2026

Besides teaching conservation theory at the University of Chicago and at the Hochschule für bildende Künste in Hamburg, Christian Scheidemann will continue his research on conservation and contemporary art in New York and Cologne.