Conservation at the Auschwitz Museum

Transcript of the podcast

The Auschwitz Memorial comprises of nearly 200 hectares of land, and includes about 300 ruins, 155 buildings, but also a huge number of historical objects, primarily traces of Victims of Auschwitz: shoes, suitcases, brushes, or kitchen utensils. Nel Jastrzębiowska and Andrzej Jastrzębiowski from the Conservation Laboratories of the Auschwitz Museum explain how these priceless items are preserved and what the philosophy of conservation of the Memorial is today.

Before we talk about what the Conservation Laboratories at the Auschwitz Museum look like today, I'd like to invite you on a brief journey into the past. We cannot forget that before the conservation laboratory was established, conservation as such existed at the Memorial, but it's important to note that it was a completely different kind of conservation.

One of the main tasks of the Museum established on the grounds of the former Auschwitz concentration camp is to preserve the memory of what happened here and to commemorate the victims. The Museum has been fulfilling this mission since 1947. In fact, efforts aimed at preserving the remains of the crimes of Auschwitz crimes began on the day of the liberation, and even in the days preceding it. Prisoners tried to make sure that that documents and items bearing witness to the crimes were not destroyed or taken away.
The first Museum employees secured objects using the means available to them. We must remember that it was a difficult, post-war time. They struggled with immense destruction and numerous problems, often lacking expert knowledge and sufficient financial resources. Later, until the mid-1990s, there was a small workshop in the Museum where simple tasks related to securing the collections were carried out. Recommendations regarding methods were obtained from external conservators, university specialists, and companies in the chemical industry. Objects requiring professional conservation were entrusted to external conservators and institutions.

While recently reviewing materials about the beginnings of the Museum and the laboratory, I came across a fragment of a record—probably from the act establishing the Museum—which stated that all items and objects on the site must be preserved for all time. You mentioned the difficult post-war situation. I think that at the very beginning, we can't really talk about conservation, because conservation in the sense we use today was still evolving in the 1960s and 1970s; it was just taking shape. Those early years were really about preserving objects, working on them so they could last, and only later did people realize that professional conservation, professional conservators, and a professional laboratory were needed.

We have to realize that we currently have a much easier situation because our predecessors did what they did. They secured the objects in the way they could, and sometimes that method wasn't professional or appropriate, but thanks to what they did, we can now take it further, spend more time on a single object, because the problems are completely different now—they've shifted in another direction.

Sometimes I caught myself, when working on an object and, for example, removing a thick layer of secondary lacquer that was on it, thinking critically, 'Why did they put it like that, causing me so much trouble to remove it now?' But then I realized that I would have much bigger problems today if not for that lacquer. Now I have trouble removing it, but if it weren't there, I'd have a problem with what to do with the surface. I also appreciated that their work... we always have to keep in mind the quantity of these objects, their sheer mass. There was always the problem of insufficient hands to work, and these people really did everything in their power to preserve these objects for all time.

Thanks to the fact that those first caretakers did certain work, we have objects in stabilized conditions. We can think about what to do next to make it better. However, they dealt with objects that were moldy, dirty with mud, lying somewhere in puddles, unorganized, sometimes even inhabited by insects. And there were masses of these objects—completely different problems than ours.

It seems, therefore, that the decision to create a conservation laboratory at the Museum is a continuation of this line of thought: from initial securing and analyzing the situation to later concluding, 'We should be able to carry out various tasks here on-site without relying on external places.' This is also important for the safety of the objects. Can you explain - from a conservator's perspective - why a place like the Auschwitz Museum should have a specialized conservation space?

The unique and challenging objects we care for – from the perspective of physical materials - deserve specialized and professional treatment. I think that this was a very conscious decision made by the authorities in the 1990s when it was recognized that sending objects to external specialists was no longer sufficient. Remember that the concept of conservation primarily refers to works of art. Conservation students learn during their studies how to save artworks—we were taught this as well. Yet our Museum is filled with everyday items that are also very important historical documents, carriers of the stories of individual people. Hence the decision to establish a laboratory and employ the first conservators who, here on-site and working with these specific objects, would develop the proper approach and conservation methods. I think that was the basis for making this decision.

Nel, you were probably in the midst of this because you're one of the people who created the laboratory.

Yes, I was the second conservator at the museum and co-created the laboratory. The decision to establish it was made in 1990 by the then museum director Jerzy Wróblewski. His intention was to create within the Museum's structure a place where it would be possible to plan and carry out work tailored specifically to the needs of this place.

The plan gained understanding and support from the conservation commission of the International Auschwitz Council, chaired at the time by Professor Bogdan Rymaszewski, and work related to the creation of the laboratory began. Funds for the renovation of the chosen building, adapting it to the needs of the lab, and equipping it with initial furniture and equipment were obtained from foreign donors—primarily the Ronald Lauder Foundation, which received funds for this purpose from the governments of several European countries. Kalman Sultanik was directly involved in obtaining these funds.
The task of creating the laboratory, building the team, and, above all, developing the initial concept of operation was entrusted by director Wróblewski to the first head of the laboratory, certified art conservator Rafał Pióro. The conservation laboratories were officially opened on June 23, 2003, and we have been operating since then. The Conservation Laboratories are involved in preserving the original historical substance, assessing the condition of objects, identifying issues, evaluating, and, of course, timely undertaking conservation work. Mainly, these are treatments on objects referred to in conservation terminology as 'movable.' These include archival materials mainly related to the history of Auschwitz and partly other concentration camps; personal items brought by deportees and found after liberation on the grounds; objects related to the life of prisoners in the camp, the process of extermination, and the SS garrison members; but also works of art created by prisoners in the camp and after the war.

Conservators employed in the laboratories also participate in or lead work related to analyzing the condition, preparing specialized programs, and conserving immovable objects—buildings, fence elements, and other architectural structures. In the laboratories, we also conduct scientific research, seeking conservation methods that will be most appropriate for the unique artifacts cared for by the Museum.

Almost 20 years have passed since the laboratory was established, and we're still learning because we learn from our objects. It's satisfying; it's amazing that after 20 years, conservation is still partly a mystery.

It's fascinating.

Before we talk about the laboratory itself and its components, I'd like to ask about this scientific research. When we talk about progress in conservation, you're adding your own contributions. Can you, either by example or perhaps by listing a few things, mention some of the achievements we've managed here at the Museum from a scientific conservation standpoint?

Sometimes these are entire methods, sometimes approaches, sometimes small tools that we manage to adapt for certain tasks. For example, when conserving the SS Hygiene Institute collection—the documents of that collection—we adapted an old graphic press to secure writing media. So, sometimes we have to adapt technologies to move forward and develop certain ideas.
At university, we didn't learn conservation of such modern materials. That's changing now, but we graduated over 20 years ago. I think that now the curriculum includes more contemporary materials. But we had to figure out ourselves how to approach such materials and how to adapt a method from elsewhere to work for us because it wasn't developed.
A colleague also invented a kind of marker for securing objects. So we talk about as technologies and certain methods. In our laboratory, two people have already completed their doctorates. They invented completely new methods; they adapted disinfection methods from medicine for disinfecting historical objects. Now we can use these methods because disinfection is so difficult that there's no single suitable method worldwide that works safely for all objects.

Our colleagues essentially invented three such methods, which, of course, have some limitations that need to be understood, but they can be applied to some types of objects. One method uses vaporized hydrogen peroxide, another utilizes a diode laser used in medicine, and they also employed disinfection with ethanol vapors. This is very interesting and significantly advances the art of conservation and the care of artifacts, pushing it forward.

Can you tell us what components the conservation laboratory consists of today? Perhaps you can illustrate how it has changed and developed over time, leading to where we are now.

The laboratory is constantly changing. In fact, every year we adjust the use of certain spaces to accommodate objects that need our help. The initial plans for the laboratory, created even before the first conservators were hired, included almost exclusively the conservation of paper.
As the team formed and our knowledge about the objects and their needs expanded, the system we have now was established. The laboratory has a research lab where, before starting conservation work, we study the object. We also have a photography studio and a digitization studio. This allows us to document the condition of the object both before and after conservation so that our successors know exactly what is original and what we have added.

The photography studio had an interesting journey. Initially, it was located in a room with a window, so to create appropriate conditions, the window was tightly sealed to prevent sunlight from entering. Later, we utilized a storage room because we realized we didn't need such a large storage space. It was an interior room without access to daylight, which we adapted into the photography studio.
Interestingly, this room functioned for over ten years until the first professional photographer joined our team. After spending a few months in the lab, he asked, 'Doesn't it bother you that the walls in this studio are white? It causes reflections!' That led to another modernization—painting everything black with a matte finish to eliminate any disturbances or unwanted reflections. This shows how, over time, even when a new person comes in with a fresh perspective, things change and evolve.

The photography studio will be rebuilt again. An element will be added—a small office where photos can be reviewed immediately after being taken. So, the lab it constantly changing. Regarding conservation and the conservation studios, only a few have fixed names and purposes. There's the metal conservation studio, which also moved, and the paper conservation studio, which has shrunk. All other studios serve as spaces for conserving multi-material objects like shoes, prosthetics, and suitcases, and their functions change accordingly.

I dream of modernizing the laboratory with a system of modular furniture that can be moved around, adjusting the workspace to the object currently being worked on. The original setup—with stationary countertops and tables fixed against the walls—has stopped meeting our needs. Ideally, the object would come in, and the workspace would adapt to it.

The laboratory adjusts to the object.

Exactly, to the object. That's the ideal. Unfortunately, we have one problem in the laboratories: external walls. We have to cope within the space we have.

You're working in a historic building?

There's still a lot ahead of us, but it's encouraging that we still have fresh ideas and needs.

The newest part of the laboratory is the expanded laboratory space itself, which now includes biological, chemical, and genetic labs. Why was such a comprehensive laboratory created, and what is the importance of this research for the entire conservation process?

We recognized the need to thoroughly understand the object before starting conservation, which led to the expansion of the laboratory. We realized that the technologies and methods we had were insufficient. We had to outsource many tests, which extended the process. It's a bit like the more we know, the more mysteries we uncover. This research deepens our knowledge, making it essential.
Last year, we had a ceremonial opening of new spaces designated for the laboratory. By acquiring additional rooms, we could expand our activities. Currently, the laboratory has two parts: one responsible for physicochemical research and the other for molecular biology. This second part is a completely new specialization in our lab.
This laboratory deals with the quantitative and qualitative assessment of microbiological contamination on the surfaces of historical objects, as well as the air in storage and exhibition spaces. The research is carried out using traditional culturing methods and genetic techniques, allowing us to know exactly what microorganisms we're dealing with. Are they dangerous to the historical materials? Are they hazardous to people—the Museum staff and visitors? And what methods can we choose to combat these microorganisms safely and effectively?

Our laboratory has existed since the very beginning of the workshop. And from the start, we understood that physical and chemical testing is part of the conservation process. Without research, we cannot plan the conservation or carry it out. I think this expansion was also motivated by the fact that more and more questions began to arise, and also by a desire to create a workspace where we can independently answer most of those questions. So we do not have to rely on sending out our samples—or even sending the objects themselves—to external labs, but so that we can examine our objects ourselves, here, on site. This way, we get immediate answers.

And thanks to that, we can also conduct scientific research. Right now, we are at the stage of finding a way to slow down the degradation of leather in shoes belonging to deported people, because in the places where the leather touches a metal component, the leather is degrading rather severely and in a very characteristic manner. We are looking for ways to prevent that or at least slow that process. We are also trying to figure out how to slow the decay of synthetic materials used as a leather-like coating on suitcases, so we have a lot of challenges. And this new lab allows us to delve deeper into the subject.

Over these two decades of work, starting from the beginning—that is, from Rafał Pióro and from you, and then the team you both developed—you managed to establish a particular conservation philosophy. You also mentioned that in addition to new research and new techniques, this philosophy and approach toward the special objects under our care came about here. What does this philosophy entail?

We began our work at the Museum when we were very young, fresh out of university. We had the knowledge and skills from our studies, but over time we discovered that not all the principles instilled in us at school applied effectively here. This was a time when, in the conservation world, the principles of “conservation by preservation were just starting to gain traction. By examining and handling objects related to Auschwitz and its victims, we came to realize, at a certain moment, that each object carries within it a piece of history and that we must be extremely cautious not to erase it. We concluded that every item—a shoe, a suitcase, a brush—is also a form of documentation. A good example of how our thinking changed concerns paper objects: archival documents and artwork on paper. At first, as we had been taught and as conservation guidelines then prescribed, we would fill in all missing areas. Of course, we did so in a way that made those filled areas easy to distinguish from the original, but we would still restore the overall form of the document or the artwork. But at one point, we decided it was unnecessary, and that, in fact, we were obscuring the historical record by doing so. The object itself did not require that kind of care. We still mend tears, because otherwise they could worsen the mechanical damage, but filling the losses is no longer needed. A milestone in that shift was the exhibition in Kraków, “Face to Face, showing artworks created in the camp. We displayed drawings that were simply riddled with holes. Yet, in our view, they spoke more powerfully than they would have if we had filled them. Filling the gaps would have effectively distorted their history.

Significantly, right before that exhibition, we carried out what we call “re-conservation for the exhibit. We removed those previous fills so that the condition and authenticity of those objects would be clearer. The artwork itself—the drawing—certainly carries major value, but the condition of the sheet of paper is also meaningful, and that too communicates something, conveys some bit of history…

When you refer to “re-conservation, it was basically about removing second-generation fills, because the outside institutions to which these items had been sent previously simply filled their losses the way it was done at the time. And we just took away those fills. That’s not difficult in conservation, as the fundamental principle is that everything must be reversible. So this could be done.

One example is the suitcases that visitors can see on display. I often point to them and say, “Look at the damage. It shows that prisoners working in the camp warehouses, who didn’t have the key to unlock it but had to open it because that was their job, pried it open. You could repair those damages, but they’re intentionally left as is, because they document both the story of the object and what happened to it in the camp.

Exactly. We aim to slow down the processes of material degradation, because they cannot be halted completely. Nonetheless, we leave those traces of history. Sometimes it might seem that our work yields no visible results, because once it’s finished, the object looks almost exactly the same as it did. Yet we know that we’ve done all that was needed to slow those processes of decay and to protect the object from further mechanical harm.

For me, the most essential point is treating each object on an individual basis. There are no two objects alike. Every single one is unique, and behind each there’s the story of a specific person—often one whose identity, name, or background we can’t even determine. Yet it’s there. And every everyday item belonged to someone. For example, if I, through my work, can reveal even a scrap of that hidden story, that alone is worth my effort, right?

You’ve talked about how the workshop was founded, about a certain conservation philosophy, and about how your work has evolved. But now I’d like to focus specifically on the conservation process itself. I realize, given all the challenges and the many objects you’re dealing with, it’s extremely difficult to describe a single example of the conservation process, but I must ask: can we let our podcast listeners know what that process looks like? How does a single historical object move from the beginning to the end of that path? What steps are necessary? There are many variables here, but is there a way to outline that chain of events for a historical item?

We begin with microbiological testing. That has become our foundation. We assess the microbiological “cleanliness of the object, because we need to find out whether we can bring it to the lab and work on it—if it’s safe for the other objects that are already there. Once it arrives, the object always first goes to the photography lab. This step is crucial, so that we document its condition before conservation. After capturing its condition, we carry out basic tests in our physico-chemical lab. Meanwhile, we start writing up a description of the object, describing its appearance, condition, structure. Our tests complement all the information regarding its technique and technology, i.e., which materials the item was made from—both its primary materials, and the secondary ones that may have been added later during the Museum’s existence. If we do find some questions along the way, sometimes the piece may return once more to the photography lab. For example, we might perform additional photos using a multi-spectral camera that allows us to see the invisible. Let’s say we notice some remnants of an earlier inscription, but cannot read them with the naked eye. Using multi-spectral imaging, we can see such traces in ranges beyond normal human vision and decipher them. That gives us extra information about the piece. Then, the actual conservation work begins.

In the first stage, I’ll use a suitcase as an example: once the suitcase arrives in the conservation studio, we start cleaning it dry, removing surface grime with gentle, abrasive erasers of various kinds. If we’ve identified secondary layers or coatings on the suitcase—and if our tests confirm what those layers are and that we can safely remove them—we’ll do so. But I say “if it’s safe, because there might be times we aren’t able to safely remove a secondary layer. In that case, we leave it there. Perhaps in 5 or 10 years, we’ll develop a technique that lets us remove it safely. If the suitcase has metal parts, we also clean the metal surface from the top layers of corrosion. And here we reach a turning point in our approach: in our practice, we decided that the rust or corrosion covering the metal is part of that object’s history. Hence, when we clean it, we don’t remove all of it entirely; we don’t want to erase those historical traces. That leads to other problems in that, if we leave the corrosion on the object, any protective coatings we add will be less effective. We realize we’ll likely have to revisit that object in 10 or 15 years to secure the metal again. In the meantime, we stabilize any loose elements that might threaten the object in some way. We do not reconstruct or fill the losses, nor do we flatten out distortions, because that’s part of the object’s history—part of what makes it unique. But we do stabilize everything that could pose a risk. Most of the suitcases we work on are cardboard suitcases with paper elements. All the pieces that might come off are secured and reinforced with adhesive. Then we prepare a protective box to fit that particular suitcase. After conservation, the suitcase goes back into the collection.

Back into the Collections, and presumably it must go again through the photography lab.

Yes. The photos we take both before and after conservation are done in the same conditions, with the same camera settings, the same background, the same type of lighting. So, when you compare a before-and-after photo, you can see how the objects have changed. They do change a bit. Mainly because in most cases, we remove those secondary coatings that our predecessors applied to protect them. They, too, used various chemical means back in the day to somehow stabilize the surface, because the storage conditions at that time were not optimal. Now we have much better storage conditions, so those coatings are no longer necessary. But over time, those coatings turn yellowish, which changes the surface’s appearance. After removing them, for instance, the color becomes more vibrant. That’s the type of change we see. The shape doesn’t alter, but the color of the object sometimes does.

Listening to how you describe the conservation process, it's clear that there are many challenges, relating to different types of materials and states of preservation. From your perspective as conservators, what are the biggest challenges associated with the objects cared for by the Museum?

For me, the first challenge I encountered here was the sheer volume of objects. We have over 100,000 shoes, almost 4,000 suitcases, 12,000 pieces of kitchenware, nearly 500 prosthetics and orthoses, and so on. This massiveness was indeed somewhat problematic for me at the beginning because we were taught to approach each object individually. But how do you combine that with such a large number of similar items? It seems that now we've found a sort of compromise and truly approach each object individually. The massiveness is a bit less daunting because we've developed specific work programs for each type of object, which greatly facilitates our actions.
Another important challenge is the poor quality of materials, both due to wartime circumstances and the development of mass production industries. Items began to be produced from cheaper substitutes. Unfortunately, this gives us greater problems in conservation because the materials deteriorate more quickly. We weren't taught how to conserve such weak, common materials; we had to develop that ourselves. That was a significant challenge at the start.

The main problem I've noticed is that we're working with everyday objects—items that were intended to wear out and be replaced with new ones. They were often built, designed, and made from materials meant to deteriorate. For example, plastics—like toothbrushes made from early plastics from the 1920s and 1930s. I was recently pondering whether the manufacturer already knew at the time of production that this was an unstable material. Even if they knew, they probably assumed a lifespan of, at most, two years for such a toothbrush. No one would use a toothbrush for two years; it was intended to serve for a specific time and then be discarded and replaced.
Now, an object that was designed to last… let’s say five years at most—it's been 80 years since the war, 80 years since its discovery, and when you add the time since it was produced, sometimes we reach situations where the material from which the object was made is essentially saying, 'I don't want to exist anymore.' Yet we still try to extend its existence because, for us, it's a very important historical document.
The example of toothbrushes and plastics illustrates a case where, as conservators, we sometimes hit a wall because currently, great conservation minds are working on methods to conserve plastics, and the problem remains unsolved. The only thing we can do is slow down the degradation and decomposition process as much as possible. We do this by separating all the plastics from the collections; they are stored in darkened storage areas without light exposure and at lowered temperatures to slow down the degradation process maximally. We continue to search and wait for a formula or solution on how to conserve and handle them.

Speaking of conservation challenges, we're also talking about different time scales in your work. What kinds of items can be conserved relatively quickly, involving simpler or smaller challenges? And where does the time consumption come in, aside from the massiveness you also encounter? Conservation of which objects took the most time? Sometimes, perhaps, the preparation for conservation can be longer than the physical work on the object...

The fewer materials an object is made from, the fewer problems there are. In the case of multi-material, complex objects where we have, for example, metal, wood, paper, plastic, and fabric, the problems accumulate, and the conservation time extends. I've specialized in metal conservation and must admit that metal or steel objects don't take that much time to conserve. We had to develop a system in our labs where, by assessing the condition of objects, we identify those requiring urgent conservation—they're at the top and need quick attention. These are primarily paper documents. Metal objects can usually wait, but why can they wait? Because in the 1970s, when conservation wasn't entirely professional, these objects were often covered with a very thick layer of lacquer. This lacquer has yellowed and is covered with dust, making them unsuitable for display, but it has perfectly protected the objects.

Now it's a matter of choosing the appropriate method to remove just the lacquer and reveal the metal surface. The size also matters; there are tiny metal objects where the entire conservation process can be completed in one day. Larger metal objects might take a few days. In our labs, when it comes to metal, we use a very innovative technique to remove these secondary lacquers from metal using dry ice. Dry ice is frozen carbon dioxide, which becomes a solid at temperatures below minus 70 degrees Celsius. We have a device that scrapes this block of frozen carbon dioxide and feeds it through a nozzle—it essentially emits minus 70 degrees Celsius from the nozzle, and no lacquer can withstand such treatment. It's mechanical removal but very quick. It only removes the lacquer from the metal, leaving the underlying corrosion untouched. After removing the lacquer, we can decide whether to clean the metal further or not and then apply a new protective layer.

We've also decided in the lab that the agents we use to protect our objects must be reversible and should be invisible. Currently, for metal, we use matte lacquers. We no longer use glossy lacquers that change the appearance of the surface; instead, we use matte lacquers that are essentially invisible. The metal surface should speak for itself, not the protective coating.

It seems to me that the state of preservation dictates how long we'll spend on conservation—not the type of object or material but mainly the state of preservation. The more damaged the object and the more problems it has, the longer we'll think and the longer the conservation processes will take.

That's the difference between the approach of a paper conservator and a metal conservator. Yes, I agree—the state of preservation is very important.

Alright, so which object took you the most time?

I recall two objects that we indeed spent a very long time on, or rather, we had them in the labs for a long time. The first was an aviation map—a complicated object because the printed paper map was laminated. On both sides, a polyvinyl chloride foil was glued. Since it degrades much faster than paper, various things started happening. The foil yellowed and began to shrink. The paper inside wrinkled because it had no space. Additionally, references were made on this foil with some writing media to the paper map, which, in its poor state of preservation, no longer corresponded in any way. We had to act.
First, we thought for a long time about how to remove the foil, but that actually went quickly. However, we spent a whole year thinking about how to straighten it, stretch it back to its original format, and safely attach it to the paper. Truly, it took a year of seeking the best concept, conducting tests—not on the original but on samples of similar material. Once we figured out how to do it, the actual conservation took a week or two—not long.
The second object we recently conserved together with you, Andrzej, was a baby carriage. It was also in very poor condition and multi-material. I dealt with the cardboard elements; you handled the metal structure; another colleague worked on the textile elements. We also tried to stop at the appropriate moment. The state of preservation meant we had to be very careful not to overdo it, not to fill in too much, to strengthen without making it visible, and to ensure there was no danger of any element falling off due to lack of support. So indeed, we had to think hard, but I think it looks very good now.

I also wanted to mention that example. As Nel said, it required agreement among three conservators—a paper conservator, a textile conservator, and a metal conservator. The complexity in this case was significant; the cardboard interfered with the fabric.

It was a difficult object, and we really had to cooperate because one of us would say, 'I can't go any further; if I do more, I'll erase historical traces.' The other person had to respond accordingly: 'Okay, I have to stop at a completely different point so that it all works together.' But that's interesting; it's why these objects are so fascinating for us.

To me, this is the answer to why the conservation laboratory was established—why all these people are needed on-site. Because one person or one specialist, even with great willingness and knowledge, can't meet this challenge alone.

Certainly. We very often work as a team. Each of us has slightly different knowledge, different experiences, reads different things, and all of this contributes to, I hope, the best conservation approach.

Finding the best path. We have painting conservators, wood conservators, textile conservators, paper conservators, leather, metal...

Chemists, microbiologists, photographers.

Yes, even at the stage of interpreting research results—where the chemist tells us what we have, and the conservator, with some knowledge of how certain elements combine, how the object looks.

Finally, I'd like to ask you what it means for you to be a conservator at the Memorial Site. We've talked about the laboratory, the processes of preserving various materials, the importance of the team. But looking at it on a personal, micro scale, it all really comes down to a person working with objects that belonged, as we've mentioned, to the victims of the camp. This is also a particular responsibility for you.

This is the question we are most often asked—how do we cope with such emotionally difficult work? For a long time, I didn't know what to answer. It seemed to me that everyone has a different way of dealing with this situation and perceives their role here differently. At first, I thought I focused exclusively on the material, that I was interested in the technology and what I could do with the material to prevent it from aging so quickly. But at some point, it occurred to me that every day, day after day, I come to work and deal with these difficult objects because I don't focus on the tragedy; I don't focus on death. I look for life in these objects—the life of the owners, specific individuals. Sometimes these objects are anonymous, but I try to highlight small traces that show that this item served someone, was used by somebody. That's very important to me.
Just a few days ago, I found a small wax paper from a praline inside a child's shoe. For me, it was such joy to find that trace of life—preserving memory. That's what's important to me. That's how I see my role as a conservator at the Museum—preserving the memory of these people.

Interestingly, the awareness that behind every object stands a person—that every item belonged to someone—greatly helps in the work. A conservator should remain in the background, allowing the object to speak through their work. If I'm working with an anonymous object, like an enameled vessel without the owner's name, but by delving into it, working on it, we suddenly notice scratches on the surface—we see signs of use. Suddenly, we see that the object has a riveted hole, showing how the owner cared for it. A story emerges. Revealing and highlighting this is the essence of my work.
If, through my work, I manage to find even a shadow of a specific person's presence, it's really counteracting the idea of the perpetrators—they wanted to remove all these people from history. To them, these were unnecessary people to be eliminated, and likewise, their memory was to be erased. We strive to uncover and preserve that memory, and that's what's important in my work.