Kenneth Spencer Research Library

Reposted from the KU Libraries Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/KULibraries

Remembering Dr. King today with an image from the University Archives in the Spencer Research Library, home to some of the most precious materials in the world—-and to gems like this one–that capture remarkable moments in our rich KU history.

One of the tasks most conservators find quite challenging is the removal of cellophane, masking, or other types of tapes from papers and books. These tapes, called “pressure-sensitive” because they adhere with just the pressure of one’s hand–no heat or solvents required–are wonderful for household tasks but should not be placed on objects of historic or artistic value. Tapes may turn yellow and stain the paper, turn brittle and detach, or get gummy and spread adhesive beyond the confines of the tape. When left in place, tape may damage the artifact to which it is attached, but sometimes it is so well attached that leaving in place is the best option.

Removing tape is challenging and should only be done by a trained conservator. Sometimes the process requires solvents that must be used in a fume hood. Other times we are lucky and the tape may be removed with a handy tool, the Zephyronics Art Air Pencil. It blows a steady, gentle stream of directed hot air, which in many cases is enough to soften the tape’s adhesive and allow the tape backing to be lifted. The gummy residue left behind is removed with a crepe eraser.

Top: Close-up of air pencil on masking tape.  Middle: Removing tape with air pencil machine
Bottom: Using crepe eraser in the final step. Click images to enlarge.

Even with the convenience of the air pencil, it’s a slow and precise job. So next time you are tempted to use a piece of tape on that photo, letter, or book, try to resist.

Whitney Baker
Head, Conservation Services

Kate Warthen was a teacher who homesteaded and taught in Hamilton County, Kansas in the 1880s. Shown here are her 1889 teaching contract, and a photo of her as a young woman.

Top: Photo of Kate Warthen. Kate Warthen Searcy Photograph Collection. Call Number: RH MS-P 34, Box 1, Folder 3. Bottom: Kate Warthen Teaching Contract, 1889. Kate Warthen Searcy Papers. Call Number: RH MS 34, Box 2, Folder 7. Click images to enlarge.

Sheryl Williams
Curator of Collections / Kansas Collection Curator

Estrela Bet Login

Sometimes deterioration can be a useful tool for discovering how a book was made. This example, in poor condition, allows us to see how the book’s boards were constructed. Rather than one piece of wood or paperboard, the boards are made from layers of stiff paper glued together with starch paste. Each board is comprised of twelve layers of “printer’s waste,” or discarded pages from other books available for use by the bookbinder. The printed pages used were printed in both black and red ink, probably dating from a 15th century bible.

Andreas Fabricius. Chemnicensis. [Germany?, 1549?]. [Bound with printed work: Joachim Camerius, 1500-1574 . Capita pietatis et religionis Christianae versibus Graecis comprehensa ad institutionem puerilem […], Lipsiae: V. Papa, 1547]. Call number: MS B38. Left: binding open to see the book’s insides; Right: title page for the manuscript; Bottom: book open to show the layers of board.  Click images to enlarge.

The tooled pigskin cover is detached, allowing us to see how the book was sewn on three pairs of linen cords. The cord ends were frayed out and glued to the outside of the “boards.” Linen cords were used as a core to sew on decorative endbands at the head and tail (top and bottom) of the spine.

Left: the book’s tooled pigskin cover; Right: detail of frayed cords.  Click images to enlarge.

The text of this book is a combination of printed and manuscript pages. The subject appears to be a handbook of logic, grammar, and rhetoric. It is a true composite object!

Click on the thumbnails below for additional  images:

Whitney Baker
Head, Conservation Services

Note: For more detailed information regarding the contents of this volume, please see entry M115 in A Checklist of Medieval Manuscripts in the Department of Special Collections at the Kenneth Spencer Research Library (Revised edition, 1996), which is available in the library’s reading room.

The only image of St. Petersburg more plentiful in western books about 19th century Russia than the bronze horseman, is the ice hill, or “flying mountain,” a peculiarly Russian entertainment that may have something to do with the fact that Petersburgers are flatlanders. Paris, Rome, Athens, and Lawrence have their high points, hogbacks, and hills, but at no point on the delta on which Peter built his city is there a spot over thirty feet above sea-level. Of all the ailments that have plagued that city – typhoid fever, typhus, cholera, giardia, influenza, malaria, diphtheria, syphilis, smallpox, and the common cold – altitude sickness has not been one of them, and actually the hill provides some relief from high barometric pressure if not from a queasy stomach.

Scenes in Russia; Describing the Manners, Customs, Diversions, Modes of traveling, &c. of the Inhabitants of that Country. London: printed for J. And E. Wallis, 1814. Call Number: Children 5310  (click image to enlarge).

This contraption seems to be a combination of ski-jump and roller coaster: each person climbs into a small 4-wheeled shallow sided box at the top of a platform and careens downhill on a track. Sometimes ridges (moguls?) are added to increase velocity coming down enough to send them up the other side. When the River Neva is frozen the flying mountains are erected on the ice.

Adapted from the Spencer Research Library exhibit, Frosted Windows: 300 Years of St. Petersburg Through Western Eyes.

Sally Haines
Rare Books Cataloger