There was a bit of an interesting discussion/freak out on card twitter this week over a restored T206 Honus Wagner card. Restoring in this case involves cleaning the card front and back, replacing the trimmed borders with material from other T206 cards, and filling in missing pigments.
Predictably and understandably, many collectors were appalled and outraged at this. We, as a group, tend to treat our cards as items whose aging must be arrested. We lock them away inside increasingly-secure plastic holders and handle them with kid gloves on the rare occasions that we look at them.* The idea of modifying a card by accident—let alone on purpose—is anathema to the collecting ethos and immediately makes people suspect malicious intent or ignorance.
*One of the things I’ve enjoyed about this SABR group is how frequently it champions the use of cards. Sorting and re-resorting things. Changing the contest in which they’re displayed, etc. etc.
So there were lots of reactions about how this is destroying the card. Or how it was no longer worth anything. Or how it was setting up the opportunity for someone to defraud an unsuspecting buyer.
My reaction though was one of excitement as this represents one of those occasions when baseball cards cross over into the art world. The issue of art restorations is one that’s fascinated me for a long time; the first thing I did was re-read Rebecca Mead’s wonderful New Yorker piece, remind myself of all the different ways that we’ve both “preserved” and “restored” items in the past, and think about what it means for us to have invested so much money and/or emotional weight in small pieces of printed cardboard.
“People always ask, ‘Who do you feel responsible to?’ If a collector comes in and says, ‘I want to have a piece fixed this way,’ do you do it as the collector wants it, or as the artist wants it? I always say we are responsible to the art work, not to the artist or to the collector.”
Centering the discussion on the card itself allows me to really think about what restoring does and what it means to restore a card. I proceeded to jump down a rabbit hole and read posts about when museums have chosen to restore objects.* When they haven’t.** Plus discussions about how restoration is really a commitment to having to maintain the artwork over the course of its lifetime.***
*MoMA’s restoration of a Jackson Pollock is interesting in how it addresses previous restoration efforts as well as emphasizing the fact that the restoration is not intended to make the painting new but rather let it show its age while taking care of it and stabilizing the artwork.
**I found myself thinking especially about Cleveland’s bombed (literally) copy of The Thinker here.
***SFMOMA’s post about its “unconventional” approach to Barry McGee’s work is a great read.
In everything I read it was clear that restoring artwork is about balancing the immediate health of the item with its long-term prospects while keeping it “true” to itself. Restoring an old item so it looks brand new is not the point. It should appear old and reflect its history without looking like it’s going to fall apart.
Interventions should also be obvious without being distracting. The goal is to make it clear that things have been mended yet foreground the original piece. This is a delicate balance and is the reason why the restoration cannot be thought of as one-off fix. The item will continue to age along with the restoration and there’s no way for anyone to know for sure how their relationship will work in another 50 years.
All this makes a lot of sense for me when it comes to trying to preserve an item that’s been kept in reasonably good condition. It’s less relevant for items which are heavily damaged—such as the T206 Wagner in question. Sure, the question of being true to the item still remains. But which truth? The item as it was originally or the item as it’s become today?
Comic books have already ventured into this territory with restoration companies bragging about the level of restoration they can accomplish. The restored Wagner is very much in a similar vein. As much as I appreciate that it wasn’t restored to look pack-fresh and instead still looks like the century-old card that it is, something about doing that much addition just doesn’t sit right with me. The damage is part of the history of the card and obscuring that feels dishonest.
I found myself returning to a post The Getty made about how to display a collection of vase fragments since it points at a middle way of restoring a piece. While representing a much more extreme example of damage, the final restoration suggests the finished original while also being clear about what’s original and what’s new.
*The Getty’s post has more detail but lacks the side-by-side comparison that the Tumblr post has.
This approach is one that I feel would work great for damaged baseball cards where instead of rebuilding the trimmed areas and missing pigment so things look perfect, the restored areas were called out by using neutral pigments or a slightly-differently-toned paper. We would still be able to appreciate the card in its complete state while also being able to see how the original was altered over the years.
On the other hand, all the cleaning and soaking to remove dirt and accreted material—specifically the paper glued to the back—is something I’m still struggling with. Much of that material contains a lot of information about how the card has been used over the years and I hate to get rid of it. It’s good to know how it had been displayed before (in this case, pasted into an album) and be reminded that every generation’s best practices will likely give a subsequent generation hives.
There’s also always the risk of removing too much material. There’s a long history of over-cleaning objects in art world.* Even in sportsland the Hall of Fame just recently underwent a massive restoration project on its Conlon photos which, while it cleans up the photos, completely obliterated the history of how those photos had been used in print.
*Sometimes by accident. Other times, such as with removing all the paint from Greek and Roman sculptures, on purpose.
Do I know how I’d want to restore a damaged card like the Wagner? Of course not. Nor do I fully trust anyone with a single concrete answer as to the best solution. The discussion and thought experiment about how different approaches could help or hurt our understanding though is one which I’ve enjoyed and hope to see continue in the comments here.
8 thoughts on “What do Baseball Cards Want?”
This is a great subject and one I have thought about often. I find myself in the pro-restoration camp — anything that makes the card look better is fine by me, and I would be happy to own such items.
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I may be too old to have an open mind on this matter. While I’m not a condition junkie, it is hardwired in my brain that the reason Mint or NM is so special is that condition is a one-way street. Damage to a card, once done, cannot be undone. This is so hard-wired into the way I value cards that I have a gut-level negative response to anything that suggests otherwise.
Restoration feels like an attempt to undo what should be un-undoable. To me, this is taking a Sharpie to your 1971 Topps borders, only the Sharpie here costs $14K instead of a dollar. And the card here, of course, had been (past tense!) one of the most sacred in our beloved hobby. So yes, I absolutely hate what happened.
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From the department of concepts and ideas which didn’t make it into this post, the idea of kintsugi is one which I almost included. It has a similar philosophical bend toward considering use, damage, and repair as not just an inevitable part of the life of the object but in fact something that should be embraced and included in the object itself. At the same time, while I agree with embracing damage and not treating it as something which must be disguised, when it comes to cards I don’t feel like the damage should be foregrounded as the primary feature of the card either.
Whether cards or art work, restoration should only be undertaken to keep the object from deteriorating to the point of no return. Art can only be art if humans can interact with it. This being said, I’m not appalled at the restoration of the Wagner card, as long as it’s history is revealed to future owners. Whether good or bad, ownership does come with rights. I’ve never been a condition first collector. I’m much more about the history and nostalgia. However, I do occasionally enter into depression, when I think about the crease through Jerry Koosman on my 1968 Nolan Ryan, Mets Rookie Stars card.
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An excellent post. Not owning any extremely old cards that I would think about restoring, I haven’t had to grapple personally with the issue. My primary fear is that there is so much fraud involving the rare and valuable cards that we have to be ever on guard. David Jamieson’s book, Mint Condition, had a long capture on how — easy is not word — but doable creating a fraudulent card is.
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