Wee deeply the mourn this invaluable loss and hope that conviction and human will help the museum rebuild itself from the ashes.  Follow the link for the coverage. 

An Unclaimed Legacy

Examining and exhibiting photographic archives in India

The journey of photography in India is not dissimilar to the process of its evolution around the world. Many of the early innovations in the field took place during the work of photographers in India at that time. Exhibiting historic photographs in India has brought out a range of questions that affect their showing. Some of the issues are purely technical but a lot of the challenge is in the search for a curatorial ideology. The chance to catalogue and document many important photography archives in India have thrown up a wealth of surprising original materials that need fresh attention and newer interpretations. The paramount idea that should ideally guide the study of photographs is to understand that a photograph is an object of history and not an accessory of history.

 INTRODUCTION

In the absence of a major national photography collection in India or a centre dedicated to photography and its dissemination as a historic discipline, private collections, foundations and individuals have stepped forward and filled this space. These newer archives have begun looking at photography as a document of history and as an art practice both in its historic context and its contemporary avatar. The National Museum at Delhi does not have a photography department with a dedicated collection. What they do have is a reprographic department called the photography section that takes photographs of objects in the museum’s collection on requests. Some of the forums for photographic exhibitions in the country include the National Galleries of Modern Art across India and a slew of public and private galleries that periodically dabble in photography because of their mandate to promote art.

INDIAN PHOTOGRAPHY: EARLY HISTORY AND CURATORIAL VACUUM

The history of photography in India runs parallel to the history of photography across the world. The technical advancements made in the field from the 1840’s have several innovations credited to photographers working in India. The extreme heat, dust, harsh light, varied landscape, vagaries of protocol and the bewildering array of subjects, all contributed in creating a smorgasbord of solutions to the myriad problems faced by photographers. From photographing women within the cloistered confines of the Zenana to taking panoramas of cities at daybreak before the maelstrom of daily activity; cameramen and women have innovated with their technique and projected their gaze to portray original visions of India, not withstanding some of the more popular Orientalist stereotypes.

Exhibiting historic photographs in India throw up a range of questions that affect their showing. Some of the issues are purely technical but a lot of the challenge is the search for a curatorial ideology. Technical problems are usually related to the suitability of the environment for display and the possible cumulative damage photographic prints undergo due to their exposure to the elements in non-sterile environments. However, curatorial issues at play are far more nuanced and might seem baffling to a layperson. The fact that of all the major visual arts, photography is a relative newcomer might just be one part of the problem.

Over the last six years, I have been fortunate enough to be part of a nascent group of professionals who are working with historic photographic collections in India, almost all of them in the private sector. The chance to catalogue and document many of these photography archives in India has thrown up surprising results. The wealth of photographic record available is truly unprecedented across a wide range of formats and materials dating from the early years of photography in India. While the camera as we know it is was invented in 1839, the first known advertisements for daguerreotype portraits came up almost immediately in Calcutta (Kolkata) in 1840. The inaugural meeting of the Photographic Society of Bombay (Mumbai) in 1854 was soon to be followed with a photography class at the Elphinstone Institution in 1855 and by the setting up of photographic societies in Calcutta and Madras (Chennai) by 1856. It is indeed baffling that no concerted effort to retain this lead in photographic history was made in independent India and that in 2011 we are still grappling with issues of inadequate venues, improper lighting, photographic conservation technicians, archivists, framers, storage facilities, curators and critics. Amongst all our colonial baggage this was perhaps one area we would have benefitted by picking up on our historic legacy.

Facsimile albums laid out for viewing with the original album on display in the glass topped table seen at far left. The images seen on the walls are original prints. Exhibition mounted by the Alkazi Collection of Photography at Arles, South of France, 2008

THE ALKAZI COLLECTION

 My introduction to photographic archives began with the Alkazi Collection of Photography (ACP), a private trust based in Delhi with perhaps the foremost collection of photographs from the early days of the medium’s history in India. Its enviable collection dating from the mid 19th century onwards includes wax paper and glass plate negatives, daguerreotypes, albumin, platinum and gelatin silver prints, along with a range of cameras and other photographic materials.

The ACP’s collection is a vast repository of images from the British Raj and from informed purchases in auctions across the world and from dealers who brought Mr. Ebrahim Alkazi’s attention a vast treasure trove of photographic materials. The riches of the collection are further affirmed with the works of a slew of major figures in the history of photography. While names such as Samuel Bourne and Raja Deen Dayal are commonplace, the collection also holds important works by pioneering masters such as Felice Beato, John Murray and James Waterhouse. The works of these early photographers and their invaluable contribution to the field, combined with the fact that this material was now available for study in India meant that the onus on the ACP to exhibit was enormous. The collection has been largely documented. A long list of planned publications has begun and today they have a series of critically acclaimed books out, highlighting important aspects of India’s photographic history. An effective outreach mechanism was formulated and the foundation has been exhibiting originals and reproductions of its prints that accompany the release of each of its publications.

STORAGE AND CONSERVATION OF ARCHIVAL PHOTOGRAPHS

The showing of original 19th century prints in galleries overseas was not a problem, since most of these venues met with stringent lighting and humidity control levels as specified by conservators. The thought did cross my mind that these photographic prints were not stored in temperature controlled environments while in storage in India. However, the micro-climate at the Foundation was always stable and consistent. This was crucial since organic material like photographs deteriorate rapidly with fluctuations in temperature and light exposure. The impossibility of maintaining round-the-clock air conditioning because of frequent power outages and the prohibitive costs meant that most institutions maintained air conditioning for people and not for objects. Thus a nine-to-five working day meant that photographs went from a temperature of 22 degrees Celsius in the daytime to 40 degrees in the evening once the air conditioning was switched off. The damage to photographs in such an environment was huge and the Foundation decided on a pragmatic policy of keeping the photographs in a cool and stable non air conditioned environment. The summer and winter temperatures swings were gentled on the collection, as these were regulated by the gradual heating and cooling of the natural environment.

EXHIBITING CHALLENGES: THE ALKAZI COLLECTION

Similar concerns while exhibiting fragile 19th century photographic material in India meant that the showing of original vintage prints was restricted to venues like the National Gallery of Modern Art in Delhi and Mumbai. In most other cases, the foundation adopted the option of printing digital reproductions of original photographs. The decision to show reproductions in itself was not easy. Most international museums and galleries seldom accept exhibitions consisting of reproductions except for a stray reproduction or two in exhibitions consisting largely of original works of art. A carefully considered decision was taken to print very high quality reproductions of the vintage prints.

Contrary to popular perception, original photographs were not scanned to make copies. Photographs were digitally shot at very high resolution in controlled studio environments with great care taken to maintain tonal variations and contrasts in their reproduction. Several test prints were first executed to ensure that the colour range of the final print matched with the original photograph. Besides maintaining the tonal range of different photographers, it was also imperative to ensure that all the reproductions did not have one standard tone across all prints. The reproductions had to show different photographic processes of various eras that these were originally from. An image from the 1860’s differed vastly in colour from one of the 1890’s. By default, this insistence on perfect prints also necessitated fidelity in depicting the deterioration on the image due to ageing and poor handling. It was in exceptional cases that an irreparably deteriorated image needed cleaning up using Photoshop tools to restore the photographer’s original image in its reprinted version. This was however an exception rather than the rule.

The curatorial strategy now called for another problem solving exercise with questions about the size of the reproduction. Since images were being reproduced, would it not have made sense to reproduce them to the same size as the original? A differing and more pragmatic approach was adopted. As the displayed objects were copies, it made sense to show them in larger scale for people to be able to enjoy the depth of detail that these views had on offer. The strategy was a resounding success, with enthusiastic audience reactions at several venues across India such as Lucknow, Chennai and Mumbai, wherever the ACP exhibited the photographs, over a period of five years. Today, sizes for reproduction of vintage prints vary from 61 centimetres x 50.8 centimetres, 61 centimetres x 76.2 centimetres and 76.2 centimetres x 91.4 centimetres, depending on venue size and landscape or portrait format of image.

The most common feedback was that viewers felt they got a real sense of 19th and early 20th century India by being able to view large scale reproductions of people, places and monuments in the exhibition. Enlarged images seemed to convey a baffling reality and historical authenticity that perhaps smaller sized originals did not allow for. It was almost as if people could enter the photographs hung on the wall like a mise-en-scene and that somehow made it more real. If the goal was to reach out to newer audiences and disseminate a greater understanding of photography and its rich history in India, then the ACP’s gambit played out spectacularly, venue after venue. Criticisms were expected and these were usually from connoisseurs and sometimes from photographers who were unsure about the use of reproductions when originals were available. Another popular strategy was the reproduction of facsimile albums that people could thumb through with the original left open to a section and displayed close at hand in a glass vitrine.

The external facade facing the main road of the Raja Deen Dayal photography exhibition at the IGNCA, New Delhi 2010-11

RAJA DEEN DAYAL’S PHOTOGRAPHS

The lessons in exhibiting photographs, both originals and reproductions, was played out in a much wider dimension when I co-curated with Dr. Jyotindra Jain, photographic material from the Raja Deen Dayal archives held by the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts (IGNCA) at Delhi. This large archive of works by a single pioneering photographer Raja Deen Dayal (1844-1905) meant that we were in a unique position to map out his journey across the photographic landscape of the country, with images from almost every time phase of his professional life. The fact that he had gone on to found an important studio across several cities in India and was universally acknowledged as the most important photographer of his time meant that audience expectations for viewing his photographic legacy was at an all time high. The Deen Dayal archives had been out of bounds for most scholars, since the IGNCA has acquired the collection from his heirs in 1989. True to the best of bureaucratic tradition in India and vicissitudes of working in India, the project was an elongated affair. The first surprise was that contrary to popular belief, the collection of ‘originals’ was largely of glass plate negatives and not of original prints. The few 19th century prints in the collection were crumbling and not worthy of display and other prints were from the period when Deen Dayal’s family ran the studio, much after his death. The original material was restricted to glass plate negatives which were however out of bounds for the curatorial team and we did not get to see it during the entire project. Nor was his extensive original camera equipment and studio registers made available to the curatorial team.

Entrance Foyer of the Raja Deen Dayal photography exhibition at the IGNCA, New Delhi 2010-11

Gallery view of the of the Raja Deen Dayal photography exhibition at the IGNCA, New Delhi 2010-11

Field research across other collections in India with extensive Deen Dayal holdings allowed us to map his life, work and photographic practice. Inexplicably, the only material handed over for work was a DVD with low resolution images of the 2,857 glass plate negatives that had been originally printed in the silver bromide technique by the Deen Dayal family, before the collection was sold to the IGNCA. The choices for display were very clear. The only way the exhibition could be mounted was by printing reproductions and extensive details of how this was achieved are mentioned in the technical comment section of the exhibition catalogue titled ‘Raja Deen Dayal, The Studio Archives from the IGNCA Collection’. The curatorial strategy was very simple; to show images from the IGNCA collection that did not duplicate his already well known oeuvre, available in collections in India and other parts of the world. The exhibition that was held for three months at the large newly inaugurated venue of the IGNCA, was perhaps one of their most successful events. The attendance and enthusiastic reactions from lay audiences during the entire period of the exhibition have convinced me of the efficacy of showing large scale reproductions when conditions for showing originals are absent. Not showing originals is an option, but not showing reproductions is definitely not the answer if the idea is to popularise the medium of photography and its rich history in India.

THE UDAIPUR PALACE COLLECTION

One of the more interesting challenges in working with photography collections in India has been my work with the Pictorial Archives of the Maharanas of Mewar at Udaipur. The vast and extensive collection is tantamount to our understanding of the true state of photography collections in other former princely states in India. The Udaipur photography archives have remained virtually untouched and were maintained in the palace stores from the 1850s. Images in the collection document court proceedings and have captured many of the key players in court from the reign of Maharana Swaroop Singh (1842-61) onwards till the merger of the state with independent India in 1947 during the rule of Maharana Bhupal Singh (1930-47). The cataloguing covered more than 27,000 photographs in the collection. The cataloguing of the Udaipur archives has now set a role model for how photography collections can be collated and the riches of several collections be shared with and made available to the larger scholarly community.

Bhagwat Prakash Photography Gallery at the City Palace Museum, Udaipur

Cataloguing of the collection also allowed for the creation of the first exhibition gallery dedicated to photography in any of the several palace museums within India. Working with a professional conservator also allowed us to create an environment that was non air conditioned but safe for the display of original vintage prints. Controlled light settings comparable to international standards were implemented and unique cost effective innovations were implemented to allow for the safe display of images. Detailed text panels at the Bhagwat Prakash Photography Gallery explain conservation methods in use at the gallery allowing for the safe viewing of historic material.

For visitors at the City Palace Museum Udaipur, the photography gallery comes at the far end of their tour of the museum. A fast trek around the 16th century palace complex takes at least one hour and visitor fatigue is very high by the time people get to the photography gallery. Visitors who do make it to the gallery are rewarded by what the new revamped galleries across the museum will look like in a few years’ time, as the photography gallery is the prototype of the museum’s renovation programme. One of the critical lessons from setting up the Udaipur photography gallery has been the realisation that a full-fledged gallery dedicated to photography needs a calendar of events so that a new show goes up when the safe period of exhibiting vintage prints is over. Photos that have been exhibited for substantial periods of time, ideally three months at 50 lux light exposure, need tobe put away to sleep for a substantial period before these are exposed to light or exhibited again. In effect, planning one exhibition means preparing for two shows within a time period of three to six months, allowing for a quick turnaround of shows. This is essential not just to satisfy visitor interest but also for the safekeeping of the collection. A delay in anticipating what would go up next meant that some of the original prints were on display for a year before reproductions were installed in the gallery.

PHOTOGRAPHIC ARCHIVES IN AND OUTSIDE INDIA

As evident, there are several issues at play in displaying original photographs at museum or quasi-museum venues. Due to lack of a concerted forum for discussion on curating and displaying photography, conservation standards meant for other visual arts are sometimes applied to the display of photographs. The stress and attention safeguarding this precious form of material culture might seem disproportionate to the time invested in curating and thinking of an exhibition story line while working with photographs. However, the importance of maintaining these archives underlines the fact that we have to leave something for future generations to interpret.

The history of photography in India has often been interpreted by collections that largely included photographs of India that were taken away by colonial masters or by ardent collectors. A lot of the material consists of photographs taken during British rule, by and for the Raj. The gaze of the photographer and very often of the interpreter or the curator is unequivocally that of an outsider looking at a society and a culture vastly different from theirs. Prevailing trends in taking photographs during the Raj were akin to their worldview of dominance with the stress being on the romantic, objectified and in pursuit of an exotic India.

Indians fed into every arrangement and configuration that an outsider could conceive. Very often a ‘native’ would go along to confirm a stereotype and play his part. In the hurry to interpret this visual history provided by photographs in collections outside India, images existing in archives across India of the same period, taken by local and foreign photographers for their Indian patrons with a different story to tell and a different India to show, got overlooked.

The last five years have been a very exciting time, with many archives, both in the former princely states and across other collections, being brought to public attention, with photographs presenting a more nuanced view of life in India. These show the camera’s lens documenting formal court proceedings in the 1860s where a distant monarch looked away to avoid his soul from being captured and a few decades down move to show a more convivial setting in the 1920s when a ruler was seen amidst his people staring into the lens. The camera captured people, places and pageants, often fulfilling the role of the miniature painter and of a bard. These two were traditional chronicler of events at courts and of society in a continuum of earlier histories.

CONCLUSION

In examining this rich repository of visual material across the length and breadth of India, there is enough material for several generations of scholars, researchers and curators. The vision to seek out this material without biases and equipping themselves with informed tools and fresh eyes is the larger challenge. The absence of an organised cabal of people in the larger photographic community in India could however be detrimental to this process if not redressed at the earliest. A national centre for the preservation, organised study and dissemination of the photographic history of India is an urgent necessity. The study of a photograph as an object of history and not as an accessory of history to explain a point or an argument is a distinction that needs to be understood.

My biggest learning over six years of research across photography archives has been an eye opener in my understanding of the medium and its history in India. These newly emerging archives show us an India barely understood, with a larger story of a visual culture that has been examined mostly through the prism of holdings held outside India. Though well documented and exhibited with a great deal of exacting research, these histories still do not give us the full picture. To get to a truer understanding of a photographic history of India, the two halves of collections in India and outside would need to be studied together, with equal vigour for us to even begin to comprehend this composite whole.

Demystifying Documentation

Introduction

The consensus on what a museum does has come a long way from its initial extremely specific mandate to collect, preserve and research objects[i] but despite a continuously evolving mandate and the occasional re-ordering of priorities, museums continue to derive much of their purpose from collections of some kind, whether material or intangible. This paper will focus on material collections, but it is pertinent to note that the general principles discussed below can be equally applicable to all types of collections.

Servicing society’s needs for ‘education, study and enjoyment’[ii] may be the ultimate aims, but facilitating this becomes possible only if we know something about our collections – otherwise, a rare albumen self-portrait by a significant 19^th century photographer simply becomes a picture of a man in unfamiliar clothing. Similarly, it is possible to display an exquisitely carved wooden trunk and share it with the public only if it does not disintegrate upon contact, and assuming that it is retrievable in the first place.

It is perhaps ironic, but we discover that a museum’s core functions of care for and knowledge of their collections have not changed at all. In India, the early years of keen purpose and prolific engagement have given way to a number of disappointments and today we bemoan our museums’ ineptitude, despite possessing unparalleled collections. We try to leapfrog over others’ mistakes or learn from other Asian and African countries that operate in similar socio-political contexts, but while they attempt to reinvent their museums, we find the most low-tech and inexpensive endeavour a challenge because we are yet to put our ajaibgarhs (houses of wonder[iii]) in order.[iv] We also have a conjunction of challenges – insufficient numbers of adequately trained staff entering the workforce on the one hand, older staff who are unwilling or unable to re-train, and the usual harried professional who like an ant, shoulders a workload well above his/ her weight. National financial resources become scarce simply because there are so many to claim them. Smaller museums or collections often have only a one-time budget for a complete documentation exercise, with an all-in-one manager or staff person, or sometimes only the owner available to administer to the day-to-day needs of the collection. A combination of all the above mean that a western model of documentation with dedicated staff (even if just one), budgets, and complicated software simply do not work.

Documentation

It is often useful to backtrack and consider meanings. As with many words in the English language, ‘documentation’ too has a chequered past. It evolved from and is linked with Latin words such as documentum meaning lesson or written evidence, docere meaning to show or teach, via Old French and assorted use in English from the 17^th century onwards to arrive at the generally accepted meaning today. The Oxford English Dictionary lists two major definitions – the first combines the evidentiary and instructional aspects, and so is listed as ‘material that provides official information or evidence or that serves as a record; the written specification and instructions accompanying a product, especially a computer program or hardware’. It is also explained as ‘the process of classifying and annotating texts, photographs, etc.’.

In the museum world, documentation can be broadly explained as record-keeping. We have established that recording what we own helps us in many ways, for instance, to remember exactly what we have (which in turn helps us take pleasure them), and to help keep track of it; as an owner of objects, a museum documents its collections for many of the same reasons that an individual does.

A wide range of specific activities fall within the purview of ‘record-keeping’, but it is at heart an accounting and identification exercise. However, the exalted position that museums occupy in our consciousness and their accountability as guardians and custodians of material culture place additional demands on their record-keeping standards. A museum record cannot be a simple list which reads, “1 chair, 2 tables, 5 paintings, 30 glasses” since one of the key requirements of good documentation is identification. One way of ensuring this is through the accessioning process, which covers the formal addition of an object into an institution’s collections. Narrowly applied, it is the process of assigning a unique number to an object, and associating (usually by marking) the object with it in order to aid identification. The purpose of the exercise extends beyond simple identification however as all further documentation of an object is based on this primary relationship.

Best practice, standards and the end user

Collectors have been around forever – indeed, each of us is a collector in some way – and museums as we generally understand them have been around since at least the 17^th century in Europe. However, the museum industry has been a free-for-all for a large part of its existence – ICOM was formed only in 1946, and a Code of Ethics for the profession adopted only in 1986 (ICOM, 2010). The International Committee for Documentation of the International Council of Museums (ICOM-CIDOC) has been around since 1950, but internationally accepted standards for documentation emerged only in the 1990s.

Standards are a vital tool to help all practitioners speak the same language, and all collections attain a minimum, universally-accepted level of care. The major standards available today and used across the globe include ICOM-CIDOC’s general guidelines, the International Council of African Museums’ (AFRICOM) Handbook of Standards (Annabi, Kumetsu, Chieze, & al., 1996),[v]  SPECTRUM (Dawson & Hillhouse, 2011),[vi] ObjectID (Dorrell, Lie, & Thornes, 1999),[vii] and the Dublin Core (DC).[viii] (ICOM, 2004) All five standards are freely available online (some in multiple languages) for adaptation and use and some as detailed above are also available as publications.

A cursory glance at a comparative table published by ICOM  in its Museum Handbook (ICOM, 2004) shows that of the five options, ObjectID has the least number of fields or types of information. However, because the premise of ObjectID was to ensure interoperability between documentation systems both between institutions, and between institutions and law enforcers, it focuses on a minimum set of standardised fields with a specific scope of entry – in other words, the absolute essentials of what an institution MUST know about its collections (it is unlikely that a law-enforcer will have the time or inclination to read detailed stylistic analyses when trying to track down a missing object). Thus, it is also perhaps is an accurate pointer to a baseline. For, although recording data against every single field recommended by every professional standard (or perhaps even the most comprehensive one) is ideal and desirable, the overarching need for the end-user (for smaller collections, even a single user such as the owner) is often for something simple, that enables them to understand, operate and use the documentation.

 Fundamentals

A truly effective record would enable the reader to pick out a single chair from amongst a roomful of furniture, or indeed, a roomful of only chairs. In order to achieve this, the record must include ways of identifying a particular item: what does it look like (using both words and images), how big it is, what it is made of, how it might have been made, how old it is, how many pieces constitute it, who made it (this could be an individual, firm, or community), and where it came from (both where it was made, and acquired from). Distinguishing features such as inscriptions and makers’ marks such as logos, and the condition of the object also prove useful in identification.

The last is also relevant for the next important function of documentation – informing us of the physical condition of an object. Preservation, conventionally the second important function of a museum, is fulfilled only when it is able to take informed decisions on how to care for its objects. In addition to determining what kind of shelf or cupboard and under what environmental conditions an object is stored in, and how frequently and under what (sometimes strict) conditions its own staff handle it, this information filters down in many other ways, including influencing decisions on whether objects can be made available for research and shared with the public through both in-house exhibitions and loans to other institutions.

Every time an object is handled, the list of potential horrors is long – an album incorrectly supported could crack, one could accidentally drop it, or skid over a runaway pencil on the floor while carrying it from storage shelf to examination table. The simple act of using seemingly clean, if slightly sweaty, hands could set off a chain reaction based on the chemicals and bacteria in our sweat, not to mention oil, cream, or any other lingering substance. Damage is also cumulative, so although a photograph may look pristine every time it is removed for examination, in reality, it fades ever so slightly every time. Good documentation can come to the rescue in such an increasingly alarming situation by reducing the number of times an object has to be handled. Accurate descriptions and complete records of every dent and inscription can ensure that an object is pulled out only when needed, and not in response to every casual enquiry. Information on location and storage within the museum are also helpful in this respect as they enable one to navigate to the exact spot where an object can be found, instead of unwrapping every single bathrobe in a collection to trace one with a particular monogram.[ix]

By reducing traffic in storage areas, but simultaneously enabling targeted spot checks to ensure that things are where they are supposed to be, location information also helps us enhance security for objects. The entire descriptive section of the record is an indispensable tool to help a museum establish ownership of its collections and retrieve them, especially in connection with stolen objects.

Tools of the trade

Sophisticated collections management software (CMS) developed in partnership with cultural institutions and standards developers such as those mentioned earlier are ingenious works of art, with their infinite capacity for detail and customisability. In their efforts towards standardisation, they contain hierarchical lexicons to help a documentation officer catalogue, cross-reference, and describe an object to pinpoint precision. They are however subject to the same pitfalls in an Indian context as discussed in the introduction, and can be recommended only to mammoth institutions, assuming the requisite infrastructure and staff resources are available. Pencil and paper remain the backbone of recording and will, at the very minimum, get the job done. Paper especially retains its position as the ultimate record even after thousands of years of technological improvement; while not wishing to advocate its flagrant overuse and waste, it is imperative for one master copy of records to be backed up in the form of printouts, preferably on acid-free paper to ensure its longevity.

Nevertheless, there are significant advantages to digitising, or using computers and digital cameras to capture and store information, especially in terms of speed and ease of access, reproduction, and uniform presentation. This is also a viable option since any simple spreadsheet software such as Microsoft Excel can be formatted to create individual records for each object. The advantage with using simple software is that they are unlikely to go out of fashion (Excel has been in use since 1985) and are relatively easy to migrate into other standard formats, which is a very real concern in the fickle world of technological development.

Attention to detail, clarity, brevity, accuracy, and above all consistency are also valued tools, perhaps more so in an Indian context where we rely more on people rather than drop-down lexicons to pick the right descriptive term. If the role of a record is to facilitate instant access, small details such as maintaining the order in which a collection of chairs is described (for instance top-down) gain relevance, as does noting the difference in position of a sitter’s foot in a series of seemingly-identical photographs.

Case studies

Ideally, documentation is an ongoing process. This is because our knowledge of most collections is incomplete, and there is always scope for additional research and refinement; collectors also continue to add to their collections, necessitating accessioning in tandem. In practice however, most Indian collections (with the possible exclusion of the national museums) undertake a thorough documentation exercise only once, with all subsequent inputs being modifications or additions that build upon a base or foundation of information.

In the course of work with numerous private collections across India, the foundation in all cases has been maintained, as discussed in the previous section. Additions and modifications however are often required based on the relevant situation. For instance, at the Pictorial Archives of the Maharanas of Mewar in the City Palace Museum, Udaipur[x] it is an impossible task to try and record the source for the photographic collections as they were commissioned and acquired by, gifted and later added to by the Maharanas of Mewar, their families, their court, and visitors over a period of 150 years. Most of the details of this process remain conjecture at this time, and so it seemed prudent to avoid using a specific ‘source’ field on the one hand, and limit the ‘provenance’ field[xi] to record which location in the Palace objects came to the Archive from, which is useful information when trying to retrace an object’s route over time and space, even if it is not the prescribed formula.

The opposite is true with Weavers’ Studio’s collection of vintage textiles at Kolkata, where both source information on the acquisition was available, as well as two additional types of provenance, i.e. the place of manufacture, as well as the place of use (in some cases the same as the source of acquisition). In this case, an additional field was introduced to record all three types of information.

Other types of modification are facilitated by a thorough understanding of the full range of possibilities that a specific field of information encompasses. For instance, ‘dimension’ which is used to record the height, width and depth of three dimensional objects such as furniture, is necessarily restricted to two dimensions when dealing with flat objects such as works of art on paper. When working with precious metals it can be expanded to include weight, and when costumes and textiles are on the agenda as was the case at the Udai Bilas Palace in Dungarpur, it needs to be stretched to include multiple factors (sometimes including depth) that account for every possible measurement ranging from sleeve length to ankle width.

Conclusions

The essentials of documentation are simple, and with a minimum of training and ability most objects of material heritage can be recorded. Further, just as museums have thrown their doors open to visitors from all walks of life and seek to actively engage with them, there is a growing recognition in the Indian museum community that the recording of collections must be a more democratic process for it to work – aside from guidance from an ‘expert’ it must be useable by the average museum officer or small collections owner. The National Mission on Monuments and Antiquities (NMMA) has an ambitious plan to allow anyone in possession of an antiquity to download a documentation form from its website, and upload the completed form thereby creating a national database accessible via the internet.[xii] Although tailored to antiquities and monuments, the format and fields used adhere closely to the essentials discussed here.

At the same time, the importance of the full range of information that it is possible to capture cannot be understated. Since documentation is a one-time exercise for most, it is vital that the exercise be a thorough one so as to meet its goals of minimising handling of sometimes fragile collections.

Records are empowering but as with a pearl, it is the core which indispensable; each additional layer of recording builds on the core and adds value to the whole.

Bibliography

1. Annabi C, Kumetsu MB, Chieze V, & al. (Eds.) 1996, Handbook of Standards: Documenting African Collections. Paris: ICOM.
2. Dawson A & Hillhouse S (Eds.) 2011, SPECTRUM: The UK Museum Documentation Standard 4.0. Cambridge: Collections Trust.
3. Dorrell P, Lie H, & Thornes R 1999, Introduction to Object ID: Guidelines for Making Records that Describe Art, Antiques and Antiquities. Los Angeles: J. Paul Getty Trust.
4. ICOM 2010, ICOM: History. Retrieved July 15, 2011, from ICOM website: http://icom.museum/who-we-are/the-organisation/history.html
5. ICOM 2010, ICOM-Museum Definition. Retrieved July 10, 2011, from ICOM: http://icom.museum/who-we-are/the-vision/museum-definition.html
6. ICOM 2004), Running a Museum: A Practical Handbook. (P. J. Boylan, Ed.) Paris: ICOM.

Preview: Wednesday, December 7th 2011, 6:30 pm onwards
On View: Thursday, December 8th 2011 to Thursday, January 12th 2012
Timings: Monday- Saturday, 11am- 7pm

A Hanuman in laced-up boots, a goat at a picnic, a peshab at midnight- these are just a few of the new themes of American artist Waswo X. Waswo . Gallery Espace invites you to an exhibition of the works of Waswo along with his collaborators Rajesh Soni and R. Vijay, which are an exploration of the resounding influence of colonialism and perceptions of the foreign in modern India . Waswo’s work is a humorous and satirical inquiry into popular stereotypes, and allows the viewer to observe and critique culturally-crafted notions of what is Indian and what is not. Central to his work is the character of the Evil Orientalist, along with whom the viewer embarks on a visual journey through colour-tinted photographs, miniature paintings and installations. His modern renditions of Rajasthani miniatures represent the chronicles of this traveller through the mystical, alien lands of India , while the photographs are perhaps documentation of the Orientalist’s finds. Central to this exhibition are the Confessions of the Evil Orientalist, a list-poem of 101 statements concerning the thoughts and behaviours that the foreigner admits to indulging in during his travels. Through verbal and visual form, Waswo’s art encourages the viewer to question cultural alienation and inherent demarcations of who belongs and who is an outsider.

About Waswo X. Waswo
Born in Milwaukee in the USA , the artist has lived and travelled in India for the past decade, and has settled in Udaipur , Rajasthan. There he collaborates with a variety of local artists, including the photo hand-colourist Rajesh Soni. He has also produced a series of autobiographical miniature paintings in collaboration with the artist R. Vijay. His works are thus infused with themes of Rajasthani life, often drawing from Indian mythology and popular culture.

Rajesh Soni specializes in hand-painting digital photographs, a skill passed down from his grandfather, the court photographer of Maharana Bhopal Singh of Mewar through the intermediary of his father Lalit Soni, an artist.

R. Vijay received training by traditional miniaturists and developed an eclectic mix of Persian, Mughal and Company styles of art. His works have drawn wide acclaim and praise from Indian critics.