Fixing broken alabaster

Quoted text begins.RE: ". . .sculptor who . . . suddenly staring at a nice piece that was
accidentally broken in the process of carving." and " . . . a glued
joint will never be invisible."
End of quote.

Kyle, Ted, George, et al,

It is interesting how something like a simple request for a
recommendation for types of glue can lead to some soul-searching of
fundamental philosophical issues in the approach process.

I also tell my students/clients something similar when there is a break
in a carving, to the effect that the repair will always be discernable to
anything more than the casual observer.

And though my own work doesn't too often concern straightforward
figurative or representational subject matter (never portrait work), I
also agree with George when he points out there is certainly a degree of
adjustment-space in carving in a direct manner.

For me, there in that adjustment-space is the crux of the matter in terms
of approach. But to discuss the approach, we first have to put a few
facts on the table.

That broken-off nose gives the CARVER several options:
1) repair with 'glue' - remembering the joint will always be apparent to
close inspection
2) carve the entire head smaller so as to allow for an integral nose
3) change the design so the lack of a nose or its replacement is
intentional [i.e., make subject into a skull that has no projecting form
for the nose, or use red marble to make a clown nose, etc.]

The broken-off nose gives the OWNER of the carving two different options:
1) repair with 'glue' [visual approach] - using subsequent cosmetic to
restore the form to as close a visual approximation to the prior unbroken
state as possible - remembering the joint will always be apparent to
close inspection
2) repair with 'glue' [conservator's approach] - use a tinted
adhesive/filler that is secure but non-permanent [removable] and then
leaving the repair free of further cosmetic treatment, allowing the
repair [and fact or provenance of the break] to be apparent

And of course for both the artist and the owner of the piece there is
always the option of doing nothing in terms of repair at all, just
leaving it. In the contemporary art world, perhaps the most well-known
example of the artist doing this would be 's reaction when his large
eight-year sculptural effort in glass, metal, and paint titled THE BRIDE
STRIPPED BARE BY HER BACHELORS, EVEN (aka - "The Large Glass") was
shipped to one of the big museums (New York? Philadelphia?) for
exhibition. When it arrived and was uncrated the Museum discovered one
of the two the main glass elements(which sandwiched some of the main
imagery) was cracked. When Duchamp was informed and saw the damage, he
told the Museum to exhibit it 'as-is' and proclaimed something to the
effect that it was a finishing-touch that made the piece all the more
meaningful, though he also declared the piece still unfinished.

How I approach a break:
I have encountered many 'accidents' in the process of carving over the
years, and though only a few of them end up being 'happy accidents' like
Duchamp considered his Large Glass, most of my accidents do lead me to
re-consider the specific design potential. After the initial few minutes
of anger at myself for being careless (for that is what it usually comes
down to), I try to consider what my intent could have been if the
'accident' were an intended part of the original design. By exploring
those possibilities and then allowing them to be incorporated into the
work [and usually this also means discarding much of the original concept
for the piece] I find myself in a new place to grow.
And to requote a phrase from Noguchi, "Growth is the core of our
existence."
When working with students in like situations, I encourage them to
experiment and grow, rather than experiencing the frustration of trying
to regain something that is gone and can never be the same.

After having worked on a piece for however many long hard hours, throwing
away the concept that one is so heavily invested-in is a very difficult
step for many to take. Not everyone has the flexibility or freedom to do
that -- especially if one is working on a design that has been visually
approved by a commissioning client.

Unfortunately a commissioning client -- or the client whose third-party
sculpture has been damaged by the movers -- rarely desires artistic
growth as much as the artist. ;-)

To address the repair aspects of the situation:
When the original artist can be contacted I recommend the owner to do
that first, and give the artist the option of repairing their own work.
Failing that, I explain the types of repair options are open to the owner
and after the owner determines what type of repair they're interested in,
I follow their lead. Though my own preferences lean in the direction of
conservation-type repair, I can understand the client's desire to 'put it
back the way it was before.' If the owner wants a
visual-approximation-type repair I try to repair it in a way that would
restore the feeling the original artist intended. Like George, I
document the work-order with photos and provide a written condition
report as to the state of the piece upon arrival in my studio, and a
description of all the materials and processes I employed in the repair.

An interesting museum that opened in Rome at the turn of this century
[2000] is called the Palazzo Altemps, located just north of Piazza
Navona. The sculptures in the museum are primarily from the Ludovisi
collection -- classical Greek and Roman stone sculptures all known from
antiquity that were never 'lost' in the intervening centuries. After
they were donated to the State [19th century?], the sculptures became
part of the National Roman Museum collection, but most were often just
left in storage because there was [and still is] never enough exhibit
space available.

One of the resulting sub-themes of the museum is the subject of
repairwork, as most of the sculptures had been repaired at least once if
not many times over the centuries. In preparation prior to the palazzo
opening to the public as a museum, the sculptures were stripped of their
improper repairs and restored to their 'before-repair' states.
The works are exhibited with photos and documentation [much of it
antique] through various artist's renderings of the sculptures through
the centuries that these works have been known.
[BTW - the documentation in this museum is atypically presented in BOTH
English and Italian -- perhaps a trend? (I hope, given my extremely
limited Italian)]

Only a few historically-important repairs have been left 'as-is' -- such
as Bernini's repairs to a Roman statue of Mars, where the Italian master
of the Baroque added a cute little Mannerist baby playing with a helmet
at Mar's feet, and replacing a presumed long-gone sword.

As a stonecarver I found the evidence of the technical aspects of the
repairs fascinating, and as a artist/sculptor I found the implications
[of the whole issue of repair that the collection illustrates] equally
intriguing.

Good repairing to you,
Don

http://www.dondougan.homestead.com/indexdd.html