Museum curators are a careful breed. They have to be. Collecting and preserving our nation’s history lies in their hands. The stories wrapped around museum collections add that critical layer of how we see ourselves and why. It is a formidable responsibility.
Regardless of a museum’s size, protocols guide decisions about what items are accessioned – added or kept in the collection – and what are deaccessioned or disposed of. Following Aotearoa’s British colonisation, the emphasis for many decades was on collecting material to stock museums. More recently, the focus shifted from placing objects into glass-fronted cases as “show and tell” pieces to regarding museums as repositories for our social history. Curators aim to create a balanced view of which taonga are important, and to accurately showcase their story.
In general, the public has on-site access to 3-10% of what a museum holds in its various collections. Curators have ongoing conversations about how to ensure collections are conserved to a high standard as well as being publicly available. Providing digital access to collections is part of an ongoing investment for many institutions.
Alongside those curator conversations lies the thorny question of what to do with the artefacts no longer required. The reasons for deaccessioning an item can be many and varied. In-depth considerations go hand and hand with the feeling inherent in many museums, that of stepping into another time, another pace of life.
At Toitū Otago Settlers Museum in Dunedin, director Cam McCracken and manager of exhibitions and collections Jane Macknight support the process of selective deaccessioning to ensure their collections remain vital and sustainable.
McCracken believes museums are at a turning point. “Typically, museums have increased their storage facilities rather than limit a collection. We’ve been discussing the deaccessioning issue for the past 20-25 years, and it’s something we’ll increasingly need to consider.”
Museums underpin those hard decisions with robust protocols around what they collect. However, they can be left to deal with too much of a good thing. Toitū museum was once the proud owner of four donated trams. With two trams restored, the question was asked: “How many trams are needed to tell a city’s transport history?” The trams had been out of service for years. Despite the initial intention to restore all four, the decision was made to deaccession the two remaining vehicles. The lengthy process undertaken involved tracking down the donors, who were happy for them to be offered to another museum – a constructive outcome for all concerned.
Explosive potential
To the outsider, a museum may appear static, but staff are always on the lookout for new research and information concerning their collections. A Toitū staff member researching hazards in the museum’s collections discovered a World War I field dressing that had the potential to be explosive. The dressing, containing an antiseptic called picric acid, was used to treat medical conditions such as burns and trench foot. Over time, picric acid becomes crystallised and unstable, turning into a safety hazard.
“When the object was discovered, the building was evacuated, and the Fire Service arrived with specialist teams,” says Macknight. “From there, the object was isolated and the Defence Force bomb disposal squad called. They removed the item and advised us they would take it directly to a safe site outside Dunedin to detonate it.”
Other donated items need expert intervention rather than detonation. Silk garments from the 19th century are often admired not just for the seamstress skills and the tiny waists of the wearer, but for the material. A common practice of that period was to add chemical solutions to the fabric to bulk it up, as silk was sold by its weight. Unfortunately, this process over time causes silk to shatter. For Toitū's The Big Day exhibition, a silk wedding dress worn in Dunedin in 1872 was affected, so, through a knowledge exchange programme, an expert conservator from Te Papa Tongarewa was called on.
It was a satisfying outcome on several levels, says Macknight. “We were able to conserve the object, preserving it and making it strong enough for display, as well as transferring additional knowledge and skills to our collections team.”
Smaller museums that rely on volunteers are especially stretched. Storerooms must be managed at the same time as creating exhibitions that will attract visitors (who count for grants and funding applications).
At the back of the Papakura Museum in South Auckland is a workroom where a dozen or so of the 6000 objects found during the excavation of the nearby Ring’s/Kirikiri Redoubt are being collated into a small handling collection for children. The rest of the items, fragments and all, will be carefully stored. This collection is a “keeper”.
“If, over the years, we have acquired 20 items of the same thing, then before we decide to keep a particular item we research its provenance, if that wasn’t done at the time it was accessioned,” says Papakura Museum curator Alan Knowles. “If it is from our region, possibly belonging to a pioneering family, then it has more relevance as an item to keep.”
When the owners of unneeded items are traced, says Knowles, “90% of them don’t want them back. We offer them to other museums, historical societies, the public, and as a last resort, we dispose of it.”
He flicks through a series of donated books in the storeroom. Putaruru – Home of the Owl will probably be offered to a more appropriate museum. But books on local lad Edmund Hillary will stay, as will a meticulously labelled pottle of Sir Ed’s honey. It’s all about an item’s provenance and its relationship with that community.
Lotte Kellaway, registrar at Pātaka Art + Museum in Porirua, has been refining collections formerly held in several locations. The focus is on fleshing out the history of the region, as well as art forms that reflect its multicultural identity.
Kellaway assumes a detective persona when tracking down former owners of items being considered for deaccessioning. Writing down everything she knows about the area, her connections, contacts and knowledge for others to use is crammed into an already full agenda. “It’s the little clues, like knowing the surnames of people who have lived here in the past, linking them to current street names, understanding the history of the city as it has grown and changed,” she says. “I hesitate to be brutal about getting rid of an object when it was so important to someone that they wanted it preserved.”
A housekeeping task of unpacking items in storage has shifted Kellaway’s perception from “why do we have this?” to “these objects are special”. What started as a quest to fit more objects into an already packed storeroom has been an exercise in reconnecting with the museum’s kaupapa as a storehouse. “Up-to-date records and digitisation are top priorities. Deaccessioning is something that is very far down the list. I’m sure our communities would be happy to hear that.”
Diplomatic skills
“Diplomacy” is the essential skill required in many of the deaccessioning negotiations, says David Reeves, CEO of the Auckland War Memorial Museum.
“Every case ends up with its own solution. We have to have nuanced conversations about the issue in front of us.” With more than six million items in its care, the museum has robust policies on what it acquires, turns down or returns. Despite the best of intentions, through the vagaries of past practices and record-keeping there are sometimes differences of opinion about the ownership of an item.
Reeves recalls a case where a family spent years advocating for the return of donated Vietnam War medals. A meeting between the family and Reeves took place, the medals were returned and the museum’s deaccessioning processes improved.
Small items are one thing but to remove an entire street? Centennial Street was donated by the former Milne & Choyce department store to mark 100 years of business in Auckland, from 1866-1966. The “street” of colonial replica shops was housed in the upper level of the museum for 49 years. The public was quick to voice dismay when notice of the plan to dismantle it became known in 2015.
Reeves acknowledges the strength of feeling for keeping the reminder of 19th-century Auckland, but the museum had wider issues to consider. “At that time, we had a 90-year-old building that required urgent conservation work.
“Centennial Street was on level two, where cornices had been damaged, plaster was falling off and there were waterproofing issues. We had to balance one set of the community’s wishes against another – preserving the integrity of the war memorial built through subscriptions by the people of Auckland.”
After consultation with Milne family descendants, the museum made the call to pack away Centennial Street and restore the original skylighted space into a contemplative area in time for WWI commemoration events. Most of the artefacts, apart from some of the street shop facades, have been saved and are in storage.
Digital freeze
Museums and libraries nationally are investing in the technology and expertise to digitalise their collections to satisfy the public’s expectations.
Jess Moran, acting chief librarian at the Alexander Turnbull Library in Wellington, deals with many of New Zealand’s most precious historical documents. The aim is to preserve and protect the items under her institution’s care, and make as many as possible publicly accessible. There is also public expectation that digital information is free, which Moran supports.
Digitalisation is also about extending the life and accessibility of a library. Moran believes this is critical for libraries in general, and particularly for those with items that are fragile, like audio and video media, or about to become obsolete.
But behind every page or clip online are many hands. “Tech is complicated,” says Moran. “Most people don’t appreciate the behind-the-scenes endeavours required to make collections digitally available.”
The Turnbull works with other institutions to fund major endeavours such as Papers Past, a project with the National Library, a repository of more than eight million pages of text from newspapers, magazines, books and journals from NZ and the Pacific (the Listener is currently being added: issues from 1939-59 will be available next year).
But funding is shaky. In May, Anahera Morehu, chief archivist at Archives New Zealand, issued a statement that the Te Maeatanga Digitisation Programme, which the government had funded since 2018, would end in June. The rationale was that, according to the government’s own accounting rules, an item that is digitalised is an asset and as such must be funded by capital investment.
More than two million images had been digitalised during those six years and are now online for public use. In a statement to the Listener, Morehu said that despite investigating alternative funding options, “none were available”.
Morehu’s announcement was met with dismay from other institutions. The board of Museums Aotearoa, representing 160 entities, wrote raising the loss of benefit to member museums for research and exhibitions and highlighting the impact the cessation would have on public expectations and museum growth, noting the equity factor in accessing important information.
National Digital Forum executive director Teina Herzer voiced her organisation’s “profound concern”, stating the programme had “played a crucial role in preserving and providing public access” to cultural and historical records. Herzer’s open letter also noted the move was at odds with Archives NZ’s 2057 strategy, which emphasises having material digitalised. It promises that the availability of information digitally will meet the majority of user needs, and that physical access will be scaled down gradually as the digital collection grows.
Internal Affairs Minister Brooke van Velden, who is responsible for Archives NZ, said in a statement: “Digitising archives material is an important task, however we are in a challenging fiscal environment. The government is prioritising reducing spending to reduce inflationary pressure on Kiwis. At this stage, there are no plans to provide further funding, however if sufficient savings can be made across the department over time, this line of work could be revisited.”
For now, though, all digitalising of records at Archives NZ, along with that part of its 2057 strategy, is on hold.
