20th Century Conservation Issues (Part 2) PDF

PART 2. 20TH CENTURY ISSUES ABOUT CONSERVATION MANAGING THE LOSSES OF WORLD WARS THE DAMAGES OF WWII Lived amidst countless contradictions, the principles developed in the early 20th century entered a crisis with the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945). Faced with a heritage and entire cities dev...

PART 2. 20TH CENTURY ISSUES ABOUT CONSERVATION MANAGING THE LOSSES OF WORLD WARS THE DAMAGES OF WWII Lived amidst countless contradictions, the principles developed in the early 20th century entered a crisis with the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945). Faced with a heritage and entire cities devastated, particularly by bombings, the "philological" restoration principles centered on minimal intervention and neutral additions—expressed by Gustavo Giovannoni in his writings on restoration and reiterated in both the Athens Charter and the Italian Restoration Charter—proved to lack any practical effectiveness. The task now was to rebuild entire portions of cities rather than merely consolidate or repair small parts of a monument. THE RECONSTRUCTION OF BRIDGES One emblematic example is the reconstruction of the historical bridges in Verona: The Ponte Pietra and Ponte Castelvecchio in Verona were reconstructed after their destruction during World War II, following the approach “As before, better than before”. Ponte Castelvecchio Destroyed on April 24, 1945, by retreating German troops, only fragments of two piers remained. Architect Piero Gazzola, superintendent of Verona's Monuments, had managed to have detailed surveys and photographs taken prior to the destruction. This documentation, along with debris recovered from the riverbed, enabled a faithful reconstruction. Methodology: Complete reconstruction using recovered historical materials, combined with new, compatible elements. Reinforced concrete structures were avoided to preserve historical authenticity. Techniques: Documentation and cataloging of collapsed materials, reinforcement of the piers with a concrete ring, reconstruction of the arches using wooden centering, and a faithful restoration of battlements and stone surfaces. Ponte Pietra Destroyed on April 25, 1945, the bridge retained only the first arch on the right bank. The complexity of the restoration required years of preliminary studies, led by Gazzola with the support of archaeological and structural experts. Methodology: The project focused exclusively on traditional techniques and original materials recovered from the Adige River. The interventions aimed to restore the bridge to its historic role without using invasive modern materials.  Techniques: Recovery and cataloging of stone blocks (529 used out of a total of 808), consolidation of the surviving piers, and reconstruction of the four missing arches. Precision work was performed on each stone block, which was repositioned in its original location using pins and anchors. Both projects were emblematic examples of post-war restoration, highlighting the importance of historical documentation, philological reconstruction, and multidisciplinary collaboration. The methodologies used in Verona influenced subsequent interventions, such as the reconstruction of the Ponte Santa Trinita in Florence. THE RECONSTRUCTION OF CITIES In 1944, during their retreat, German troops destroyed several areas of Florence, particularly around the Ponte Vecchio, including Borgo San Jacopo and Por Santa Maria. This event sparked an intense debate on the city's reconstruction, involving prominent figures such as art historian Bernard Berenson and archaeologist Ranuccio Bianchi Bandinelli. In April 1945, Bernard Berenson published an article titled "How to Rebuild the Demolished Florence" in the journal Il Ponte. In this article, Berenson advocated for the necessity of reconstructing the destroyed areas "as they were and where they were", emphasizing the importance of preserving Florence's historical and artistic integrity. He believed that faithful reconstruction was essential to maintaining the cultural identity of the city. In response, Ranuccio Bianchi Bandinelli published an article titled "How Not to Rebuild the Demolished Florence" in the same journal. Bandinelli criticized Berenson's approach, arguing that a literal reconstruction could result in a sort of "historical fake." He instead proposed an intervention that, while respecting the historical context, would introduce elements of modernity, reflecting the evolution of society and contemporary architecture. This debate mirrored a broader discussion in Italy on how to approach post-war reconstruction: on one side, the desire to preserve historical heritage; on the other, the need to innovate and adapt to modern times. The issue concerned not only the aesthetic aspect but also the cultural identity and future direction of the country in the post-war context. Ultimately, the reconstruction of Florence sought a compromise between these positions, integrating traditional elements with modern architectural solutions. This approach aimed to respect the city's past while acknowledging the necessity of looking to the future. The debate between Berenson and Bianchi Bandinelli remains emblematic of the challenges faced by Italy in the post-war period, balancing preservation and innovation. THE INFLUENCE OF BENEDETTO CROCE'S AESTHETICS The situation in post-war Italy was also shaped by the influence of architectural culture and, consequently, restoration practices by the so-called Crocian aesthetics, tied to the philosophy of Benedetto Croce (Pescasseroli 1866 - Naples 1952), Italy's greatest philosopher of the 20th century. Croce's thought sought to highlight the uniqueness and exceptional nature of artistic works. As it focused on such uniquely conceived works of art, restoration itself became an autonomous, singular, and unique expression, just like the object it addressed. The principles established by Croce were adopted after the war by a new school of thought known as critical restoration. The term "critical" is used because, according to Crocian assumptions, it is criticism that identifies the work of art, qualifies it, and recognizes its values. The word "criticism" derives from Greek, meaning to judge, distinguish, select, thus referring to the analytical and verification activity that examines the work and establishes its meanings and values. Critical restoration is therefore "selective," meaning it identifies the values to be transmitted to the future—distinguishing them from what is not art—and bases the restoration intervention on this selection, presenting the recognized values of the work at their best. Restoration must also be conceived as a work of art itself; control over the process must ensure the artistic nature of the final product. Restoration is art because it acts on a work of art, relying on creativity and inventiveness, indispensable guarantees to ensure the success of the work. This aspect thus shows that critical restoration assigns great importance to the creative component, seen as an essential vehicle for deeply understanding the values of the work and transmitting them to the future. CESARE BRANDI (CRITICAL RESTORATION) Returning then to that 1939 the Central Institute of Restoration in Rome (Istituto Centrale del Restauro di Roma, I.C.R.) was founded with the young Cesare Brandi as its director. However, the war events made the early times of the I.C.R. difficult, but in the immediate post-war period, it still managed to make a fundamentally important contribution. None of this, however, would have been possible without Brandi's reflections organized in Theory of Restoration (Teoria del restauro, 1963, first edition). "Commonly, restoration is understood as any intervention aimed at restoring the efficiency of a product of human activity." Brandi opens his theory in this way, offering an initial—and clear—preconceptual definition of what restoration is. In progressing from the general to the particular, the author clarifies that the conceptualization depends on the "product of human activity" to be restored: on one hand, there are industrial artifacts which, as such, require restoration aiming at reestablishing their functionality; on the other hand, there is the work of art for which that reestablishment constitutes a secondary aspect. Before being able to operate with the activity of restoration, it indeed requires an additional step compared to the industrial product, which is the recognition of artistic value. "It will immediately become evident then that the special product of human activity to which the name 'work of art' is given is so because of a singular recognition that occurs in consciousness." Every work of art, therefore, is potentially such until it is man—in a time, in a place—who attributes that value to it; in turn, that value is susceptible to changes as it is conditioned by the historical and cultural context in which it is defined. Therefore, it is in the recognition of the work of art as such and its actualization in our consciousness that the idea of restoration is born. Delving deeper into this attribution of value, Brandi declares that "from that recognition, not only the material of which the work of art subsists will come into consideration, but [also] the bipolarity with which the work of art offers itself to consciousness"; by bipolarity, he means a dual aspect: "the aesthetic instance that corresponds to the fundamental fact of artistic quality for which the work of art is a work of art; the historical instance that pertains to it as a human product realized in a certain time and place and which is found in a certain time and place." Shortly, we will return to these two points. From here derives the first definition of restoration: "Restoration constitutes the methodological moment of recognizing the work of art, in its physical consistency and its dual aesthetic and historical polarity, with a view to its transmission to the future." PHYSICAL CONSISTENCY And what is meant by physical consistency? It is the very place of the manifestation of the image, the material on which the figure is born, existing then in the world. From here, the first methodological declaration: "Only the material of the work of art is restored." But what does Brandi mean by saying that only the material is restored? Let us then think of a painting, like the Madonna of the Pilgrims by Caravaggio in the Roman basilica of Sant’Agostino: the textile fibers of which the canvas is made and the stretcher on which it is tensioned are the material; the colors, the lines, the drawing that are above are instead the image or, as we will see shortly, the material-aspect. In fact, anticipating what will then be formulated in the second chapter—whose title is The Material of the Work of Art—Brandi specifies that the material itself is divided into two parts, structure and aspect, where—mind you—the latter has precedence over the former: in the case in which a work of art needed restoration, what would be "sacrificed" would be the material according to the structure—in the case of Caravaggio's canvas, all that is textile fiber, the stretcher—and not, therefore, the material according to the aspect—the image of the Madonna with Child, the earthy color of the background, the bare feet of one of the kneeling pilgrims. In light of this distinction, Brandi recalls that many errors have been committed in the past precisely because the fundamental difference between the material as structure and the material as aspect was never taken into consideration: the example of the reconstruction of an ancient monument, for which indeed an identical marble was used in order to repair it, is in this sense illuminating, because if from the point of view of material—or, to better say, of the material as structure—the marble is chemically identical, from the point of view instead of the material as aspect, it is not at all; this has created, according to the author, numerous errors in the past, errors to which he gives the name of "restorations of reintegration" that are to be condemned, as they give rise to historical and aesthetic falsifications. This type of intervention will be addressed shortly. POTENTIAL UNITY Therefore, we arrive at the second principle of restoration: "Restoration must aim at reestablishing the potential unity of the work of art, provided that this is possible without committing an artistic or historical forgery, and without erasing any trace of the passage of the work of art through time." In this second principle, Brandi anticipates two themes that constitute the third and fourth chapters of the Theory, respectively the potential unity of the work of art and time regarding the work of art and restoration. Starting from the first, the work must be thought of as a whole and not as a total, because it is unique and not a sum of parts. As is the author's custom, an example follows so that what has just been stated can be understood: a mosaic is a whole with respect to one of its tesserae which, if taken individually, has a partial value since the unity of which it was part is lost. Where the work thus results materially divided, one must try to develop the potential original unity that each of the fragments contains: in the case in which, therefore, we find ourselves in front of a lacuna on our Caravaggio—thus in front of a potentially such work of art—Brandi categorically states that "the integration must always and easily be recognizable" in order not to create a forgery—whether aesthetic or historical—and that the material "is irreplaceable only where it directly collaborates in the figurativity of the image," that is, in a few words, as anticipated, only the material as structure is restored and, therefore, the lacuna must be treated as such, otherwise, one would be performing a restoration on the image, which is inadmissible. THE LACUNA The concept of the lacuna—the gap—is a central issue in conservation. It involves determining how to complete and reintegrate a missing part of something while respecting its original integrity. The challenge is deciding how to act in a way that balances reintegration with differentiation. Brandi suggests avoiding the use of a single, uniform hue (tono) to fill gaps. Even if the chosen color matches the surviving decoration, the result often remains visually jarring. This is because the missing part becomes too evident, creating a stark contrast rather than achieving a harmonious integration. Consequently, the lacuna often draws more attention than the preserved original, disrupting the unity of the work. To address this, Brandi proposes techniques that aim to integrate the missing parts without overshadowing the original. He emphasizes methods that allow the observer to distinguish between the original and the reconstructed elements, ensuring authenticity and clarity. The Hatching Technique Brandi advocates for the hatching technique as a solution for reintegration. This involves: 1. Using Hue and Color: Selecting colors and hues that are harmonious with the surrounding area of the gap. 2. Applying Figurative Elements: Incorporating lines and geometries that echo the original design, thereby reestablishing the composition. When viewed from a distance, the gap appears visually unified with the original. However, upon closer inspection, the use of lighter lines makes the distinction between old and new clear. This method respects the integrity of the artwork while subtly addressing the lacuna. Architectural Application The principles of the hatching technique can also be adapted to architecture. In this context, lines, volumes, and geometries are used to reinterpret and reconstruct missing spaces. The goal is to evoke the original atmosphere and figurative idea without imitating it outright. An example of this approach is the restoration of San Filippo Neri in Bologna, where lines and forms were employed to recreate the essence of the lost architectural elements while ensuring their distinction from the original structure. This technique preserves the authenticity of the building while offering a respectful and harmonious solution to the lacuna. TIME Speaking now of the second theme, time, the author affirms that it is encountered in the work of art in three distinct moments: as "duration" in the manifestation of the work while it is being created by the artist; as "interval" between the end of the creative process and the moment in which the work of art is about to receive this seal of value; as "instant" in the awareness—in a given time and place—that a work is such. Brandi declares that the only moment in which restoration can truly insert itself into the time of a work of art is the latter, because it constitutes that human action aimed at ensuring the transmission of the work as it was found in the present: that is, we restore everything that has come down to us with the defined seal of artistic and historical value that the artist and time, years and years before, have infused; differently, if the intervention were to insert itself into the first time—thus in the "duration"—it would be called "restoration of fantasy" because it would have the presumption of inserting itself into the creative act, that is, into the mind and hands of the artist. Let us then return to the Madonna of the Pilgrims and imagine seeing a brown lacuna at the height of the Child's face: the restorer could never restore the original appearance because, in doing so, he would literally put himself in Caravaggio's shoes, without any certainty of reproducing the material-aspect that the artist had thought and then realized in the "duration" of his creative action. Finally, if the restoration attempted to insert itself into the second type of time—the "interval," thus between the realization and the conclusion—it would be considered "restoration of reintegration," which is equally wrong because it has pretended to forcibly restore the potential unity of a work of art, merging an image into another image that is not authentic either aesthetically or historically. HISTORICAL AND AESTHETIC INSTANTCES Thus, we arrive at the fifth and sixth chapters, in which Brandi explains in detail what the two instances are, the historical and the aesthetic, which here, for convenience, we will respectively nickname the historian and the artist. Both are analyzed through the examination of four elements that can appear in the field of restoration: the ruin, the addition, the patina, and the remaking. It will be noticed how, between one instance and the other, there are often opposing opinions, but it will still be the instance with greater weight, according to Brandi, that will determine the final decision. The Ruin: Both agree in believing that it must be maintained as such, so it can only be preserved and consolidated. The historian legitimizes its conservation because, although it is a mutilated testimony of a work of art, the ruin still preserves in nuce a recognizable trace of human activity; the artist expresses a similar judgment because it—let us now imagine the ruins of ancient Rome—has now been actualized in our consciousness as such, as an integral and qualifying part of the urban area or landscape in which it is located. The Addition: From the historian's point of view, it must be maintained because it is nothing but a new testimony of human activity and, therefore, of history; according to the artist, however, it must be removed because—as already observed—it has inserted itself between the creation and the definition of a work of art, moreover pretending to rediscover the original unity and not just the potential one. However, there are always exceptions: Brandi brings the example of the Holy Face of the Cathedral of San Martino in Lucca, a wooden sculpture that, over the centuries, has literally filled up with additions such as the crown, the skirt, etc.: "(...) it is certain that it is a work whose secular transmission has occurred in the additional iconography that it still preserves (...). It seems to us that the value of a work of art is not so prevalent in the Holy Face as to be able to erase the importance of its historical aspect, and therefore we would be of the opinion of maintaining this documentary aspect that it preserves and which in itself is a very important historical relic." In the field of restoration, therefore, it will be a judgment of value that will declare the prevalence of one instance over the other; in this case, for example, it was the historical instance that had greater weight. The Patina: It is a particular example of addition that, however, is not necessarily the product of human activity because, in most cases, it is a factor determined by time. Therefore, as is already intuitive, from the historian's point of view, it must be maintained, as it is a witness of one or more temporal passages in the life of the work, especially if it has been understood that the patinated effect was desired by the artist; likewise, the artist suggests maintaining it because, if one wanted to remove it, one would risk making the material prevail over the artistic expression, when—as observed—it is always the image that has precedence. The Remaking: Depending on its nature, the historian can decide what to do with it; in the case where the remaking aimed to backdate the work of art, thus committing a historical forgery, it would not be admissible and therefore should be removed; in the case where, instead, it managed to subsist in the work, transfusing into it, without thus creating any forgery, then it is perfectly legitimate because it is a historical testimony. According to the artist, instead, the remaking must absolutely not be maintained, except in the case where it should participate in the conservation of the work in its potential artistic unity.