For the past 20 years, a felt suit by Joseph Beuys in the Tate in London has existed in a state of limbo; no longer part of the collection, what remains lives on in its archive. “The Felt Suit [(1970)] by Joseph Beuys is completely destroyed. [It] was always meant to be a suit in perfect order without any wear and tear. It is unfortunately a total loss,” wrote the late German artist’s personal secretary, Heiner Bastian, in a letter to the Tate’s director Nicholas Serota in 1994. The destruction was caused by an infestation of moths that ate away Beuys’s most famous multiple. Despite the UK institution’s extensive efforts to salvage the piece, it was decided, in consultation with the artist’s widow, to deaccession it in 1995 and place it in the Tate archive, where it remains today. (The Tate acquired another Felt Suit by Beuys in 1998.)
Meat, fat and felt
The unfortunate incident at the Tate notwithstanding, Beuys’s works are, on the whole, in better condition than many may imagine, for which the artist deserves some credit. Nathan Otterson, a senior objects conservator at the Solomon R. Guggenheim in New York, says that Beuys’s use of unconventional materials, in particular felt and fat, has resulted in his work being unfairly marked as problematic. Two of the German conceptualist’s favourite materials relate to his wartime experience of crashing in the Crimea during the Second World War. According to Beuys, he was rescued from the plane’s wreckage and kept warm by Tatars who rubbed him in fat and wrapped him in felt. Although Beuys’s account of his rescue is generally considered to be more fiction than fact, the tale remains an important element of his self-mythology.
“Those who knew Beuys and know his work have come to the conclusion that he really cared about his materials and although some were meant to deteriorate, he picked ones that would do so in a very controlled manner,” Otterson says. For example, Beuys’s works that contain fat were stabilised by mixing the fat—typically ox, as he believed it to be a purer form of lard than other types of animal fat—with wax. “It was rendered to prevent it from going through the normal putrefaction process and from being susceptible to biological attacks,” Otterson says. Beuys’s meat products were also specially prepared, although Otterson says there has been “some liquefaction” to a rolled pork belly in the Guggenheim’s collection, which has stained the bottom of one of its wood vitrines.
Ageing well
“Overall, we just haven’t had a lot of trouble with these works in terms of instability,” Otterson says, adding that they do not require anything special in terms of care and are ageing well in normal museum conditions. He does concede that, since the four vitrines in the Guggenheim’s collection date from late in the German conceptualist’s career (in the 1980s), “it is possible that Beuys could have resolved any issues with his works by the time they were created”.
Otterson does not share some conservators’ reservations about letting Beuys’s works travel. In his 15 years at the museum, most have been lent. “They certainly are not the most fragile sculptures or installations that I have had to think about travelling,” he says. “We travel all kinds of crazy things; I’ve had to get altars from Brazil, ship plaster Picasso sculptures built on a simple armature made from a broken broom handle and huge pieces of freshly rusted Corten steel that scratches when you just look at them. I wouldn’t say Beuys’s work is completely unproblematic, but I certainly wouldn’t classify it as one of the worst things I’ve had to ship,” he says.
Werner Müller, the head conservator at the Kunstmuseum Basel, says keeping temperature and relative humidity levels consistent is key when it comes to caring for Beuys’s works. The Kunstmuseum is currently showing its collection of the artist’s vitrines, installations and films of his performances or actions on loan from other institutions (until 31 January 2016).
When it comes to pieces made from felt and other organic materials, as the Tate learned, vigilant checking for signs of moths is also essential as the damage is often quick and catastrophic. “I always say it is important to look at objects that cannot move on their own,” Müller says. Felt pieces from Beuys’s Feuerstätte II (1978-79) were placed in an oxygen chamber after they were attacked by moths, and when Müller worked at the K21 museum in Düsseldorf he treated an animal skin coat in a vitrine in Palazzo Regale (1985)—Beuys’s last major installation—for moths.
Travel risk
Müller prefers not to lend the artist’s pieces. “To me, the most important thing is not to let the objects travel because with transport comes risk [of damage]. I always tried to convince my directors not to let them travel but I was not always successful,” he says.
In the wake of the Tate incident, the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) in New York still displays its Felt Suit (1970) out in the open, but the sculpture conservator Lynda Zycherman has slashed its display time by a third, from 18 months to six months every two to three years, because “it has a greater chance of getting moths the longer its stays on display”. She also treats it for pests before it goes on display and when it comes down.
Zycherman says that non-traditional materials can pose problems when they are packed—both when lent to another institution and for storage. A little bit of plant material is often left behind in the nests used to cradle them and you run the risk of burnishing softer materials such as fat and chocolate when they are crated.
The cardboard box from MoMA’s 1963 work Fat Felt Sculpture (Fat Battery) has now flattened as a result of the fat being absorbed by the cardboard and Zycherman says it slides around on its glass plate when you pack it. She also says unforeseen delays in transportation could pose potential problems for works made from fat and wax, and that she would be inclined to initially refuse a request for the loan of one of Beuys’s vitrines. But she also says she would most likely eventually agree to the loan as great strides have been made in packing over the past 30 years. “At MoMA, our loan programme is so demanding that we have been forced to move on [our expertise in packing techniques]. We may say we don’t think this work should travel and we’re told to find a way to make it safe to travel, and we have,” she says.
Zycherman also says that conservators aren’t as flustered by non-traditional materials as they once were. “They aren’t new any more. They’re not as outrageous as they used to be,” she says. “When we were shown these works in the 1970s, we recoiled in horror, but familiarity and experience has shown that things aren’t as terrible as we initially feared.”