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The Acropolis has stood proud above the city of Athens since 5th century BC, but archaeological research reveals that it’s something of a fictive totem, reconstructed time and time again to revive an Athens that was in fact fleeting. Restorations and new constructions have been carried out almost constantly since the Classical period (1750 – 1820), with few original monuments surviving as they once were, or surviving at all. This knowledge is grounded in the various shades of marble and cement used to conserve the Acropolis over the years, distinguishing new repairs from ancient ruins.
This UNESCO World Heritage site is not a unique example of obvious intervention. Although attitudes and techniques do vary somewhat from conservator to conservator, the custom of repairing historic buildings with marked colours and materials aligns with the attitudes of various international conservation and restoration frameworks. The Venice Charter (1964), for example, advocates for clear differentiation between the original and restored to preserve authenticity and avoid historical confusion. All over Greece, churches, monasteries and landmarks of historical interest bear subtle markers of modern-day involvement.
Similar to the Venice Charter’s guidelines on architectural conservation, in the world of museum conservation, noticeable visual contrast between old foundations and contemporary interventions is a standardised practice. It helps future generations trace an accurate historical narrative, with a simultaneous aim to ensure that conservatory work is not so jarring as to disturb the harmony of the bigger picture.
“The art is knowing how far to go,” remarks Dr. Tehmina Goskar, museum curator, material culture and collections specialist and research fellow at UAL.
“There have been some shocking examples of art restoration trying to mimic the artist’s work on top of it,” she explains, reminding us of the time anamateur painter attempted to restore Ecce Homo, a century-old fresco of Jesus in her local church in Spain, by quite literally painting over it. At the other end of the scale, the notion of purposefully disruptive conservation proposes a challenge to complacency, confronting the consequences of freezing the meanings of our conserved objects. Some argue that fixing a ceramic object with bubblegum pink filling – for example – would stop it from existing simply as a representation of the past, allowing it to continue its evolution by inviting analysis of the interventions themselves. Others feel that that this level of disruption only enables the conservator to insert themselves into the object, detracting from the makers and users to whom it was significant before it came to exist in a museum.
When Corene came to us with a treasure chest of inherited jewellery from the 1920s, our Founder Arabel knew her baguette diamonds and emerald-cut green emeralds – so characteristic of the Art Deco period – deserved to be honoured by designs that consciously paid homage to that iconic era. Simultaneously, she found joy in doing so by way of distinctively contemporary techniques and materials.
With a desire for opulence at the very core of the Art Deco movement, elaborate forms are typical of jewellery from the 1920s. Incorporating a few round brilliant-cut diamonds for a combination of three contrasting gemstone cuts, Corene’s new matching stud earrings, pendant and cocktail ring are noisy clusters of shapes and visible gemstone settings. Likewise, the filigree-inspired curls of the pendant are a subtle nod to the popularity of filigree work during the 1920s. Informed firstly by the jewellery that came before them, these new jewels don’t simply repurpose Corene’s old gemstones; they offer them a second lease of life in designs that emulate the world they originated from.
That said, it’s worth remembering that the perfectly symmetrical, machine-cut facets of round brilliant-cut diamonds like these didn’t forge their way into the mainstream until the Art Deco era was already drawing to a close. Introducing this cut into the mix of Corene’s otherwise angular, hand-faceted gemstones adds a contemporary accent, enabling the differentiation between old and new. Design styles and manufacturing techniques tell us so much about the social and economic landscape of an epoch, and upholding them enables the continuation of storytelling – even if with the help of some modern touches. Just as Dr. Tehmina Goskar pointed out, we believe it’s about striking a balance; knowing how far to go.
Like buildings in Greece and vases in the V&A museum, vintage and antique jewels are storytelling relics. Perhaps we as an industry should have similar conversations about our approaches to reviving them, too. ‘Knowing how far to go’ is of course a subjective principle, open to interpretation. The current lack of universal guidelines leaves it up to any given jeweller to decide where on the ‘sympathetic-disruptive’ spectrum their remodelling work falls.
Would more rigid conservatory protocols allow for redesigns and repairs to be better contextualised and understood? Or is it only right that jewellery design remains a subjective art?
In Pompeii, reversible adhesives and supports are used in the conservation of mosaics and frescoes, allowing for current interventions to be replaced in the future. In the Parthenon, titanium dowels can be removed without damaging the original stone. Only recently has complete reconstruction been accepted by UNESCO, and only in the exceptional circumstances that it seeks to ‘reflect a pattern of use or cultural practise that sustains cultural value’. This change in attitude can be marked by the 2015 reconstruction of the Sufi mausoleums at the Timbuktu World Heritage Site in Mali after their destruction in 2012, for example.
Likewise, reversibility is universally considered a major criterion of ‘good conservation treatment’ in the context of museum artefacts.
So when we melt down entire heirloom jewels to recast their metal in unrecognisable new guises, or decide a diamond is not sparkly enough and permanently forgo whole fractions of a carat in the polishing process, are we erasing history - or enabling patterns of use to continue by creating space for more wearable pieces of jewellery? This one is another difficult question to answer.
Whilst one client would hesitate to subject the authentic Victorian pendant they bought at auction to any more than a light clean, another is compelled to melt down their late grandparents’ wedding bands completely so they can forever wear the gold close to their heart. Whilst the engraved message in one client’s old engagement ring might carry significant sentimental value, another will derive a sense of empowerment from disassembling their engagement ring completely, starting afresh with an unrecognisable new ‘divorce ring’. Jewellery is often charged with unquantifiable emotional value – would universal margins prove an uncomfortable fit?
The Venice Charter emphasises the importance of thorough research before any restoration work is carried out on a time-honoured building to ensure understanding of its historic, artistic, and structural aspects. Likewise, we feel it’s the responsibility of jewellery designers and craftspeople to educate ourselves on historic trends, design features, materials and manufacturing techniques before we begin intervening on old pieces of jewellery. How can we truly sympathise with nuances without an insight into the contexts that gave rise to them?
Above all, a standardised system for recording remodelling processes would help forward storytelling, provenance and appraisal. Dr. Goskar agrees. “If you were to make invisible repairs that mimic original techniques then it’s important to photograph and record exactly what you did. If you go for a visible update, that’s cool too, but I’d still want to see documentation of who did what and when.”
These detailed photographic records are especially important if we are to continue remodelling jewels beyond recognition, ensuring their previous manifestations are not forgotten with the processes of recycling metal and refurbishing gemstones.
It's possible to embrace the beautiful materials that Mother Nature offers us without harming our beautiful planet. By asking questions, simplifying supply chains and sharing our knowledge with the world, we can achieve this balance.
