Chain and Red Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Chain by Christoph Zellweger
By Amanda Fielding, Curator at the Crafts Council, 1989 – 2007

In 1994 the Ruskin Gallery (now in the Millennium Gallery, Sheffield) staged Work/Ethics, a group exhibition in which Christoph Zellweger showed a pair of remarkable large-scale chains, each fashioned from hand-fabricated latex and cast steel, and presented as objects hanging in space. There the similarities ended however: Chain’s damaged, oxidised metal elements and sickly yellow latex evoked the ravages of time and patina of age, whereas Red Chain’s vibrantly coloured rubber and metallic brilliance suggested it was made only yesterday.

In Chain, Zellweger’s aim is to ‘create an image of decay and mysterious beauty such as we often find in the remains of the past.’ He deliberately treats the work as a found object, a fictional archaeological artefact to be dug up sometime in the future, somewhere in the West. Zellweger is emphatic that this ‘fake’ has nothing to do with any romantic or nostalgic view of the past, but rather that it signifies his concern for the decline of the industrialised landscape. With its fractured metal flowers or seed heads on stems of cast screw-threads and electrical elements, Chain also hints at the blurring of nature and technology in the artist’s vision of the future.

From the outset, Chain was shrouded in ambiguity. Zellweger intended it to function both as jewellery – by virtue of someone identifying with his ideas and wanting to wear it – and as an object that was fiercely independent of the body. At 270 cm in length, it was shown suspended from above and trailing snake-like along a plinth. As an outstanding example of new thinking in conceptual jewellery, it quickly attracted the attention of the Crafts Council’s Purchasing Committee (which had always supported progressive craft), and was acquired in the knowledge that, in Zellweger’s words, ‘It was not intended forever.’

By choosing latex rubber, Zellweger had, quite literally, produced an image of decay: as predicted, six or seven years later the rubber started to show colour changes and other signs of degradation. As then curator of the Collection, I initiated a series of conversations to mark the first stage of collaboration between artist, curator and conservator to establish a realistic strategy for Chain that considers intervention, storage and display.

What were Zellweger’s thoughts about Chain now that its identity and function were in flux? Clearly it was too fragile to be suspended from the ceiling or indeed worn as originally intended. A number of options were discussed, such as replacing perished parts with new latex, binding weak areas with wire, or leaving well alone. At that time it was agreed that Zellweger would not take any immediate steps to ‘rescue’ the work. Speculating on how Chain might be displayed in the future, we discussed the possibility of presenting it in a new, horizontal configuration in a shallow case at floor level. This appeared an attractive solution, in step with the museum display of archaeological finds, and with Zellweger’s original concept for the work as excavated object.

A further important conversation was initiated with Brenda Keneghan, a polymer scientist at the Victoria and Albert Museum, who examined Chain (and its companion piece Red Chain, now in the mima collection), and gave additional preventive conservation guidelines for Chain while in storage.

Interview with Christoph Zellweger Jewellery-maker

When you were making Chain and Red Chain did you realise how quickly the pieces would deteriorate?
I tested the latex, exposing it to direct sunlight, and within a month or two it got darker, already showing signs that it would become brittle, so I accepted that this would happen. Not only did I accept it, but I was happy about it, because deterioration was at the core of the idea. If you look at my works in polystyrene, you see a similar idea. These pieces were about decay, and about giving presence to something that otherwise would not last. Of course I’m aware that certain materials like latex or polystyrene, if worn on the body, will have a relatively short life, but if you want to make a statement about value then let it be transient. Back in 1994 I thought it was important to talk about things that went beyond material value. In a time where we strive to live forever I deliberately resisted making something that would last but the statement itself is meant forever.

How did you feel when Chain and Red Chain were withdrawn from a touring exhibition, out of concern over their condition?
I feel that this action really missed the point of the work. It was the right decision for a curator, but it ignored the artistic intention. I was consulted after the event, at which point I stated that it was not in my interest for them to be withdrawn. I understand that museums have an interest in preserving their acquisitions, because they are owned by the public, but I like the idea that there is a decaying piece in a museum and someone spots it and says ‘Hey, this is decaying, we should tell them,’ – and then realises maybe it is supposed to be like this. This makes it a more interesting piece. We accept decay in museums housing old artefacts but in an exhibition of new work we cannot accept it.

Does this mean you are opposed to the idea of repairing or remaking Chain and Red Chain?
No, because if you think of a normal necklace, it is worn and it breaks and needs to be made functional again. And now I think it would be brave to commission a repair of the pieces or an update. If I did it again I would make reference to my original intention, but bring it into our time. My thinking moves on.

But wasn’t the point to create an image of decay?
Yes, and there are images of the original piece, but my work has an element of wearability, and I think it would be interesting to get it back to a state where it’s complete. I find it fascinating to think of moving from one state of originality to another state of originality or authenticity. But I suppose collectors aren’t prepared for that. I don’t think this has happened before, and I am not aware of a situation where a piece in a public collection has been re-visited by an artist. I think this could be corrected. It’s very interesting for a curator and an artist to go in this direction.

And will you continue to use whatever materials are appropriate at the time of making – perishable or not?
Yes, I think materials have a particular meaning at a particular time. Material itself has a message. If I use a new material and I know it will decay or it could decay I use it more or less consciously.

What materials are you working with currently?
I’m going to be working with reflective surfaces, using mirror as a metaphor. It will not be metal necessarily, but a mirrored surface. I’m also experimenting with rubber-like materials. Whatever I do is a reflection of the bigger picture of what I feel society is doing.

What can be learnt from this debate?
I’m interested in the philosophical challenge we’re now facing. I see an opportunity to challenge the status quo within the practice of curating and of conserving work and making it publicly accessible. I want to get into a discussion about the nature of work made, and the fact that we cannot treat all artefacts that are collected in the same way. Beyond judging the artefact itself for what it is – - we have to look at the conceptual intention of the author. Thus, if I make work that is about decay, then it should be shown and documented in this way, and if another work is about perfection and preserving then it should be kept exactly as it was when it was new. I think institutions need to now accommodate difference and react to work more specifically. Some pieces start telling their full story when exposed to the course of time.

Visit www.christophzellweger.com

Interview with Cordelia Rogerson
Modern Materials Specialist Conservator, the British Library

When were you first confronted with the problem of profound degradation in contemporary jewellery?
The first time the issue really came to my attention was in the case of Zellweger’s Chain pieces. When I became interested in jewellery I was aware that there were problems of this nature, but no one had looked at them in any detail. Chain was the first time a significant problem had been discussed within the jewellery discipline, but as my research in this field progressed I came across other examples where there had been catastrophic degradation that hadn’t been adequately noted.

Zellweger has stated that he didn’t intend Chain to last forever. Doesn’t this negate the role of the conservator?
Theoretically it could. But we know we don’t have a divine right to intervene with every object, and that maybe there are instances where conservation just isn’t required. We conservators take our work seriously, but we have to accept that it’s not always appropriate to the intention or meaning of an object. However, if we’d addressed this particular situation earlier we could have taken measures to slow down the degradation, which might have been appropriate.

Have you come across cases similar to that of Chain and Red Chain?
Jivan Astfalck created a conceptual piece of jewellery (Tacita Dentata, 1999) made up of bites of apple dipped in resin, alluding to the story of Snow White. She intended that while the apple decayed the resin would stay intact, as a metaphor for life and death, but of course the resin started to collapse as well. But she decided that its further deterioration only served to emphasise her original point. If anything it simply continued the story and so she was happy. As a conservator you could be quite cynical about that and say she’s just adapted her story to suit the situation, but on a pragmatic level there are few options as the degradation cannot be reversed. Our role is then to apply preventative measures.

Is there a case for conservators being consulted at the point of acquisition of potentially risky items that contain ephemeral materials?
I think it would be helpful to have a greater dialogue between curator, artist and conservator from the beginning. I know that James Beighton at mima and the Crafts Council have a selection committee and I think it would make sense to have a conservator represented – not to warn against purchasing risky items, but to highlight issues that might arise. This way they can make a conscious decision to buy something that might only survive a few years, while putting measures in place that will give a decent life to that object.

What part could you play in the conservation of Chain and Red Chain at this stage?
Both pieces have degraded to such an extent that there is very little I can do. You can’t reverse the degradation of the latex. What you can do is look at their ongoing storage and environment, and try to slow down further deterioration, and this means addressing everything from levels of light exposure through to temperature, humidity and air quality. Removing oxygen from the environment slows down the degradation of rubber and latex. In terms of storage I would suggest opening them out as much as possible without causing any more damage, and creating storage facilities that they can also be displayed in.

Is there a line a conservator should draw, in terms of involvement, in cases like this?
If, for example, a curator asked me to remake the latex I would say absolutely no. A conservator’s job is to preserve the integrity of an object. We are not trying to restore – restoration is about taking an object back to its original condition and appearance. We take what is left of an artefact, and preserve and stabilise it. Taking away those degraded rubber tubes and replacing them wouldn’t be true to the original object and wouldn’t be considered ethical from a conservator’s point of view.

Is there a case for conservators advising artists on what materials to use?
I think it would be very wrong for a conservator to try and prevent artists from using certain materials. Preventing exciting work like this from occurring will do the discipline a disservice. Having said that, from a practical point of view I think artists do need to learn more about their materials, so they’re not surprised by the consequences. If they aware of the outcome, and it is part of their intent, that’s fine. What we would then need to do is find effective ways of presenting and documenting work that we know will eventually disappear.

Interview with James Beighton
Curator of Craft, mima

What is Christoph Zellweger’s standing in contemporary jewellery design?
Zellweger is one of several important figures1 graduating from the Royal College of Art at the same time, all engaged in a more conceptual manner than their peers. What makes Zellweger really stand out for me is his interest in the body generally – not just the relationship between the jewel and the body and the way a jewel sits on the body, which many other jewellers have taken into consideration, but a more intimate relationship looking at the interiority of the body and how these abject elements can be translated to what’s worn on the outside. It makes him intriguing conceptually and visually, and there’s an added layer of interest for museums when you consider that, just like the human body, his own work will start to decay. It brings a very human element to bear on collecting.

Why are Chain and Red Chain such important pieces?
They were acquired at a relatively early stage in the public’s consciousness of his work, and they somehow exist both as independent objects and also as a pair, even though they are lodged in these two different institutions. What makes them important now is the condition that they’re in, and how it forces museums to confront the particular issue that Christoph raises – how does a museum cope with a piece that is inherently and conceptually perishable?

What is mima’s acquisition policy?
We have a responsibility to represent the best of contemporary practice in jewellery-making, among the other items we collect, and if that best practice happens to include the work of artists working with materials that are perishable we have a responsibility to collect that too. If we make a policy of saying we can’t collect something because it’s not made of a stable material, this could potentially impact on what artists choose to make. We’d end up collecting work in gold and diamonds, which are immutable ¬ and that’s what the New Jewellery movement was against and that’s why we started collecting this work in the first place. Our decision to collect perishable objects is a logical progression of our decision to collect contemporary work.

Are there other items in that collection that raise similar issues to that of Chain and Red Chain?
Wearable Instrument, a 1998 piece by Sigurd Bronger [a beautiful but absurd brooch consisting of a natural sponge set on a gold-plated brass plinth – ] presents a similar dilemma. The sponge will eventually disintegrate leaving the plinth intact, but because Bronger nominated this sponge owing to its very particular qualities, the solution can’t be as simple as just replacing the sponge. Is there a solution for this piece at all or do we have to accept that part of it will simply disappear? Is it possible to show it just as a plinth with sponge dust on the floor and still make a point?

Do you know what Zellweger wants to happen to Chain and Red Chain?
No, but I know we both want to approach this situation as an interesting problem we can look at together. I’m not hung up on the idea of restoring Red Chain back to its original state ¬ I’m interested to see if we can come up with a solution and if that can lead to a long-term and repeatable set of solutions. Will we have to write these works off? Could we use them as they are, to illustrate the discussion we’re having now? Or do we turn them into completely different works? These are all possibilities that need to be explored.

Would you be disappointed if Zellweger opted to leave the works to deteriorate further?
My disappointment would be that not enough had been made of them in their lifetime, and that there wasn’t enough awareness that this was going to happen to the objects. The fact of their deterioration could have been incorporated into strategies for displaying the objects. We could have made their eventual decay a fundamental part of what we communicated about them.

Some of Zellweger’s work is made of polystyrene. Would you consider adding such a high-risk item to the collection?
I would consider it, yes. The fact that something is going to perish in 10 years rather than 20 doesn’t seem to me to be that relevant. Once you’ve made the mental leap as a collector that you’re acquiring something with a short lifespan, you must then just focus your attention on what you’re going to do with it and make the most of it while you have it.

1: See ‘Christoph’s Laboratory’, essay by Martina Margetts in Foreign Bodies: Christoph Zellweger, Monica Gaspar, Actar, 2006, p.6

Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: Edward Barber, 1996

Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: Christoph Zellweger, 1995

Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Red Chain in current condition. Photographed at the Crafts Council in 2009.

Red Chain in current condition. Photographed at the Crafts Council in 2009.

Red Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: Christoph Zellweger, 1995

Red Chain in current condition. Photographed at the Crafts Council in 2009.

Red Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Red Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Red Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Red Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Red Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009

Red Chain by Christoph Zellweger, 1994. Photo: John Hammond, 2009