Category Archives: Behind The Scenes

Pluto’s Secret: Writing the Museum’s First Children’s Book

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How did three staff members at the National Air and Space Museum get to collaborate on the Museum’s first children’s book, Pluto’s Secret: An Icy World’s Tale of Discovery?  The short answer is that this is an extraordinary place to work.  And when people are as generous with their time and talents as my collaborators have been, neat stuff happens.

Pluto’s Secret: An Icy World’s Tale of Discovery

The idea that became Pluto’s Secret began in the Writers’ Group that I hold for Museum curators and fellows.  We meet twice a month to share mutual problems we encounter in our research and writing of aviation and space history.  David DeVorkin, the Museum’s senior curator of space astronomy (who was present at the 2006 International Astronomical Union meeting in Prague during which astronomers voted on Pluto’s new designation), told the group about an article that he was writing about Pluto’s discovery and reclassification. David’s article examined how disagreements among astronomers over how Pluto should be categorized reflected pre-existing divisions in the field of astronomy. (You can find David’s final essay in Exploring the Planets (Palgrave, 2013)). David’s draft was called, “Pluto: The Problem Planet.” As a mother who spent many hours reading to my then-preschool son, our oldest, I thought, “That would be a great title for a children’s book!”

So, during my commutes in and out of Washington, DC, I added the story of Pluto’s discovery to the repertoire of tales that I would tell my son in the car to pass the time. Standard fairy tales had gotten repetitive and boring—I had even started retelling the same stories from different points of view to vary them, a skill that became useful for Pluto’s Secret —so I wanted something new.

When I eventually suggested Pluto’s tale to Trish Graboske, the Museum’s publications officer, she suggested the addition that made the Museum’s first children’s book a reality: Diane Kidd, the Museum’s early childhood manager, is also a professional children’s books illustrator! If she would illuminate our book, we might really have something. David and Diane agreed to take on the project with me and the rest is history (of science).

Margaret, David, and Diane

Margaret Weitekamp, David DeVorkin, and Diane Kidd

The collaboration between the three of us became my favorite part of this project. Usually, we learned, a children’s book illustrator might never meet the author at all. (Diane is working on a blog entry about her process to appear soon.)  This time, we met as a group to discuss the concept and we worked together, in person, throughout the whole process. I wrote and rewrote the text. Diane patiently subjected her beautiful artistic illustrations to David’s exacting reviews to check all of the details: the right telescopes, the correct astronomical domes, and even appropriate equations floating above Percival Lowell’s head. And David helped to refine the story with me. My son enjoyed (endured?) MANY bedtime readings (“When is it going to be real book?”), which were often interrupted as I scribbled on the pages to edit an awkward phrase or clarify a point.

At one point, David suggested a perspective that put everything in focus: Pluto does not change! Scientists’ ideas about Pluto changed as they learned more, but the icy world Pluto is just Pluto—out there on the edge of the solar system, being itself. The story needed a different point of view. It wasn’t the story of the scientists, interesting as they were. “Pluto, the Problem Planet” became Pluto’s Secret, the story of an icy world on the edge of the solar system that did not fit the label that scientists wanted to give it. (In fact, in 2006, because of Pluto, astronomers defined “planet” for the very first time.) Diane thought that kids would connect with the character of the icy world who was not bad, just different, and did not always follow the grown-ups’ arbitrary rules.

It’s so exciting to see Pluto’s Secret out in print. I’ve finally gotten to read a real, bound version to my three children at bedtime. And we look forward to telling this tale of discovery to audiences at the Museum and around the D.C. area. Come out and see us!

Margaret A. Weitekamp is a curator in the Space History Department of the National Air and Space Museum.

Filming the Story of Getting from Here to There

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The central theme of the Time and Navigation exhibition is the connection between timekeeping and determining position. The main point is this: “If you want to know where you are, you need an accurate clock.”  Centuries ago, accurate chronometers were required to determine longitude at sea. In recent years, global satellite navigation systems require accurate atomic clocks to synchronize their transmissions. These navigation tools would not function without accurate clocks.

Explaining the connection between time and location can be complex. During the development of the exhibition, we realized it was not enough to show devices for accurately measuring time and position. We wanted visitors to grasp why it’s true that “If you want to know where you are, you need an accurate clock.”  We wanted it to be easy to understand and, hopefully, fun. We developed the idea of a portrait gallery. Each portrait would depict a person from a different time period engaged in navigation. But this will be no ordinary set of portraits. Each will appear to be a painting or photograph, but in reality they will be large video screens. At regular intervals, the characters depicted in the portraits will “come to life” and interact with each other, telling the story of navigation from their point of view.

We planned five characters. The “Sea Navigator” would explain how he used a chronometer, sextant, and other tools to determine position while crossing the ocean in the 1830s. An “Air Navigator” would respond by explaining how he used similar tools, along with radio transmissions, to navigate aircraft during the World War II era. We’d then introduce an “Astronaut” to explore how to navigate spacecraft across the solar system, also using radio transmissions. A “Military Person” would speak about the details of the Global Positioning System and its military applications. Finally, a character we called the “Museum Visitor” would enter the scene. She would explore these topics from the point of view of an everyday user of global navigation with her mobile phone. Each of the characters reflected the topics in the sections of the Time and Navigation exhibition: Navigation at Sea, Navigation in the Air, Navigation in Space, Inventing Satellite Navigation, and Navigation for Everyone.

Actors

All five cast members before shooting begins. The astronaut character is in costume to the left, with the remaining actors ready to read their lines.

To bring this idea to reality, the Smithsonian selected a contractor to produce videos for Time and Navigation. The exhibition team worked with them over a period of months to develop the look and feel of the portraits, refine the script, and select the cast. We also had several decisions to make regarding props and wardrobe. Finally it was time to shoot the video.

During the last week of October, I traveled to southern California to be there during the shooting. The filming was planned to take place over two days in a sound stage in Orange, California. We met the evening before over dinner with the cast and crew for introductions. Over Mexican food, we completed a preliminary reading of the script.

The filming of the “portrait” characters was complex. The timing of each line needed to be precise, because the characters will interact with each other. Physical objects are even passed between two of the characters. The actors began by reading the entire script without a camera, giving us a recording of the program with a good pacing. Once the filming began, one actor at a time was filmed in costume, responding to the other actors as they spoke. By the time it was all over, the actors had read through the script at least 40 times.

Sea Navigator

The sea navigator prepares to begin his performance in front of a green screen.

Special attention was paid to how the actors looked at each other. Because they will appear next to each other on a wall, the eye lines between each character were determined before filming began. Each actor must look to the eyes of the character they address for each line. This required actors to sit or stand in their correct orientation, as if they were already within the portrait frames.

The Astronaut was the only character we filmed with props and a backdrop. The actor stood behind a table with a space shuttle model and a globe. The other four characters were filmed in front of a green screen so the background could be digitally added in production. During the filming, I sat next to the director to provide guidance. I was required to make several decisions, some important and others very minor. We made a few last-minute script changes and I occasionally provided pointers for which words to emphasize.

There were a few unexpected adventures. We had an issue with an insect flying onto a couple of the scenes. During a lunch break, it was announced that a reward would be given for its capture. This did the trick. The assistant director captured the offending insect and humanely release it outside.

Another surprise was that the legs of each character were visible. This was a serious problem because the chosen wardrobe did not include pants for two of the actors!  In the original plans, we thought the actors would be visible only above the waist.

The Air Navigator wore a flight jacket and khaki shirt. The actor wore casual shorts for comfort, because the jacket was hot and we had to turn off the whirring air conditioning. He even wore an ice vest under the flight jacket to stay cool. But now we needed a pair of matching khaki pants. Everyone looked around. I looked down at the khaki pants on my own legs. So did the director, sitting next to me. “Those look good,” he said.  ”What’s your waist size?” I asked the actor. He was a 33, a match. So that is how, while representing the Smithsonian at a filming in southern California, I lost my pants. Fortunately another crew member had a pair of shorts I could borrow. I looked ridiculous but I must admit I was comfortable.

We had the same problem with our military character. She wore the uniform of the US Air Force 807th Expeditionary Air Support Operations Squadron, which was deployed to Afghanistan. Once again, we needed to find matching pants. We got very lucky. Right around the corner was a military surplus store. They had an exact match for the camouflage pattern. The pants were too large for the actor, but with a few binder clips to hold the extra fabric in place we were good to go.

In the end, we got all the video we needed to produce the portraits. Over the next few months we’ll be reviewing preliminary versions of the video to prepare for installation. Thanks to the whole crew at Aperture Films. You can see the end result when we open Time and Navigation in March.

Andrew Johnston is a geographer in the Center for Earth and Planetary Studies at the National Air and Space Museum.

The Curious Story of a Cuban Missile Crisis Artifact

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U-2 Photo

This U-2 photograph, taken Oct 14, 1962, shows a truck convoy approaching a deployment of Soviet medium-range ballistic missiles near Los Palacios at San Cristobal. Analyzed on the Museum’s CIA elevating table, this photograph was the first identified as clear evidence of Soviet medium-range ballistic missiles (MRBM) in Cuba. Credit: Dino A. Brugioni collection at the National Security Archive, George Washington University.

On Monday morning, October 15, 1962, CIA photo interpreters (PIs) hovered anxiously over a light table at the National Photographic Interpretation Center (NPIC). The mood was urgent and foreboding. They peered down on 928 photographs of high quality—some of the best shots had a resolution of three feet. The images were just 24 hours old and top secret–taken by Major Richard S. Heyser on a clandestine flight over Cuba in a high flying U-2 aircraft. The extraordinary flight would inaugurate a whole series of high and low altitude reconnaissance sorties over Cuba.

One of only two Air Force pilots checked out to fly the CIA-modified U-2, Major Heyser had flown from Edwards Air Force Base in California to photograph a large corridor of territory west of Havana. His onboard camera possessed an effective range of 75 miles. On this spy mission, he encountered no fighter interceptors or anti-aircraft defenses.

Hycon Model B

This Hycon Model B panoramic camera, installed in a Lockheed U-2 reconnaissance aircraft, provided positive proof of the existence of Soviet missiles in Cuba, precipitating a crisis that led the world to the brink of nuclear war. Photo by Eric Long, Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum.

Once Heyser landed his U-2 at McCoy Air Force Base near Orlando, Florida, the exposed film was loaded on a courier aircraft for immediate delivery to the CIA in Washington. From late Sunday afternoon into the night, technicians worked feverishly to transfer the negatives onto clear acetate positives. No effort had been spared to ensure that the high value images reach the green light table at the NPIC for analysis on that fateful Monday morning.

During a work session that extended into the late afternoon the PIs eagerly and painstakingly scrutinized this remarkable cache of photos. They discovered clear evidence of Nikita Khrushchev’s bold move to install a network of missile launch sites in Cuba. All who viewed the photos at the NPIC realized that a confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union was now imminent, and it would bring the two Cold War rivals to the brink of a nuclear war.

One of the identified launch sites—dubbed San Cristobal No. 2—revealed telltale signs of construction with six missile trailers, stacked equipment, and tents for the work crews. Arthur Lundahl, the Director of NPIC, viewed this image at the light table. He agreed that this installation was being prepared for SS-4 medium range missiles. “If there was ever a time I want to be right in my life, this is it,” Lundahl later observed. He then contacted CIA Headquarters with this momentous intelligence coup. By 8:00 pm, McGeorge Bundy, the National Security Advisor, had been alerted. When faced with this grim report, Bundy decided to delay his briefing for the President until the following morning.

While still in his pajamas, President Kennedy viewed the photographs in a Tuesday morning briefing. He was told: “Mr. President, there is now hard photographic evidence that the Russians have offensive missiles in Cuba.” The implications of the Soviet installations in Cuba were ominous. Some of the missile launch sites, it was feared, could be armed with nuclear weapons in two weeks. Experts warned that 80 million Americans could die within ten minutes of the firing of missiles from these launch sites, a mere 90 miles off shore.

The rest of the story is well-known. President Kennedy moved quickly to organize a special executive committee to advise him on the proper American response. Both military and diplomatic measures were followed to resolve the crisis. For Kennedy, the removal of the missiles was imperative and non-negotiable. He ordered a quarantine of Cuba on October 21. Plans were in motion to strike the missile bases, even invade Cuba.

President Kennedy’s televised address on October 22 at 7:00 pm alerted the nation to the unfolding crisis. The stakes were indeed high: “It shall be the policy of this nation to regard any nuclear missile launched from Cuba against any nation in the Western Hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring a full retaliatory response upon the Soviet Union.” The enforcement of quarantine (read blockade) meant the possible interception of Soviet ships en route to Cuba. How would the Soviets respond? The fate of the world seemed tied to a hair trigger, one that could be set off by either side.

The crisis ended on October 28 when both superpowers agreed to step back from the abyss. The Soviet Union agreed to withdraw the missiles in exchange for a declaration from the United States that it would not invade Cuba and withdraw missiles from Great Britain and Turkey.

The light table had been at the epicenter of this unparalleled national crisis—what became known as the Cuban Missile Crisis.

The Light Table at the CIA

CIA

Inside the CIA’s National Photographic Interpretation Center (NPIC), Washington D.C., 1962. The CIA elevating table is on the right. Credit: Dino A. Brugioni collection at the National Security Archive, George Washington University

In the decade that followed, the CIA took measures to preserve its “Cuban Missile Crisis artifacts.” In 1972, on the occasion of the tenth anniversary of the crisis, the CIA showcased these artifacts in a special 31-panel exhibit. Sadly, the exhibit was “closeted” and not accessible to the general public.

In January 1976, Michael Collins, Apollo 11 astronaut and then Director of the National Air and Space Museum, was authorized to see the CIA’s 1972 exhibition, then in storage. This visit had been arranged by Dino Brugioni of the NPIC, a man who would do much to enlarge the public understanding of the Cuban Missile Crisis in the decade that followed. Collins was impressed with the many photographs and artifacts associated with the exhibit.

In a follow up letter to William E. Colby, Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Collins expressed his interest in the transfer of the Cuban Missile Crisis artifacts to the National Air and Space Museum—particularly, “duplicate negatives of photographs used…the historic U-2 camera, pilot suits, ejection seat, survivor gear, photo interpretation equipment, etc.” A month later, Carl E. Duckett, Deputy Director for Science and Technology at the CIA, notified Michael Collins that a selection of artifacts from their 1972 exhibit would be transferred to the Smithsonian Institution.

The Light Table Comes to the Museum

In February 1977, the light table, along with 14 other artifacts, arrived at the Museum’s storage facility in Suitland, Maryland. Don Lopez, then Assistant Director for Aeronautics, had expressed in his correspondence with the CIA an interest in displaying some of the missile crisis artifacts in a future exhibit. For this reason, possibly, the light table was transferred to the Museum on the National Mall in Washington, DC. When the light table did not fit into the exhibit program, Lopez decided to keep it in the Aeronautics Department. Eventually he recruited me to accession the light table and the other CIA artifacts, a curatorial task I completed on August 3, 1984.

At this juncture, Lopez encouraged me to retain the light table within the confines of the Aeronautics Division. From the mid-1980s to 2011, it became a welcome fixture in my curatorial life at the Museum. For a host of volunteers (too many to name here, sadly), the light table was present with us, witnessing our activities as we sorted documents and photographs related to a series of books: Gatchina Days; Igor Sikorsky: The Russian Years; Stalin’s Aviation Gulag; Great Aviators and Epic Flights; and most recently, Red Phoenix Rising, The Soviet Air Force in World War II. One major initiative was the organization of the “Russian Aero Collection,” a huge assemblage of reference materials in both Russian and English. Other archival tasks conducted in the presence of the light table included processing of the Rodina Collection, the Black Wings Exhibit collections, and the copying of the audio cassette tapes of lectures by major aerospace figures in the old Langley Theater. We all maintained a deep respect, even awe, for the historical significance of the light table in American history. It brought a unique ambiance to our work environment.

Von Hardesty

Von Hardesty is pictured with the elevating table that was used, along with light table and optics, by CIA analysts to review U-2 photographs taken over Cuba in October of 1962. The photos were the first to confirm medium-range ballistic missile launch sites under construction in Cuba, and kicked off the most tense 13 days of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Photo by Eric Long, Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum

In the late 1980s, I was routinely visited by air attaches from the Soviet Embassy. Knowing of my specialization in Russian aviation history, they perceived that I might be an important contact to make in Washington (a wild exaggeration, of course!). They came to the Museum for conversation, research in our library, and occasionally for lunch. I should note that two of three air attaches I hosted at the Museum were expelled from the United States as spies. When they visited my office, they sat in a chair next to a historic artifact associated with the Cuban Missile Crisis, a fact I delighted in bringing to their attention!

On August 3, 2011, on the eve of my retirement, I arranged to transfer the light table to storage at the Garber Facility. This was indeed a sad day. I was reluctant to bid farewell to this venerable companion. I determined, however, that in the last week of the partnership, the light table would bear witness to one more link to Russia. I sorted a group of Russian language books on early aviation—a personal gift–for their transfer to the Ramsey Room of the National Air and Space Museum Library. Up to its final hours in our Division, there was continuity with Russian historical themes.

Some Reflections on Artifacts

Three dimensional artifacts possess intrinsic power and meaning. They offer an avenue to connect with the past—in a way quite different from books or films. They are tied to our texture of memory in a unique way. For example, standing next to the Spirit of St. Louis is awe-inspiring when you think of Charles Lindbergh’s solo flight across the vast expanse of the Atlantic in this small and fragile airplane. It is not just another airplane. The human feat associated with the material object is alluring and magnifies our sense of history.

The light table links us in a tangible way to the Cuban Missile Crisis. For several hours on October 15, 1962, this nondescript table became a hinge point in history. Of course, there are other “tables” associated with an epic moment in history. One example quickly comes to the mind—the marble top table used by Robert E. Lee to sign the surrender documents at Appomattox, Virginia in April 1865. Here one mundane piece of furniture in the home of Wilmer McLean became a platform for a momentous event to unfold. That historic artifact, I understand, now resides in the Chicago Historical Society.

Taking leave of the light table evoked in me and my volunteers a certain longing. We wondered if and when we would meet our old friend again, or if the venerable artifact would need to remain in storage for years to come (we joked about that familiar warehouse scene at the end of the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark!). Our fond wish is for the light table to reemerge some day in an exhibit at the Museum. A second light table used by CIA photo interpreters during the Cuban Missile is on loan to the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, directly across the National Mall from our Museum in Washington, DC, and can currently be seen on display in their Price of Freedom exhibition.

Von Hardesty recently retired as curator in the Museum’s Aeronautics Division

This Friday, Oct 19, don’t miss “Eyeball to Eyeball: The Inside (Photographic) Story of the Cuban Missile Crisis,” a lecture with Dino Brugioni, former CIA analyst who was at NPIC when the first U-2 photos were analyzed.

Langley Preservation Project: Thinking Outside the Box

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In 1887, Samuel Pierpont Langley became the third Secretary of the Smithsonian.  Included among his many accomplishments is his founding of the Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory in 1890.  His research in the fields of astronomy, physics, and aviation remain a testament to his diverse interests.  While Secretary, Langley took up the challenge of powered flight.  Langley’s efforts evolved from the study of birds in flight and proceeded through experimentation with small rubber band-powered models.  These early research efforts quickly gave way to more advanced experiments utilizing large whirling arms, and far more sophisticated large unpiloted models powered with steam and gasoline engines.  As the series of his Aerodromes (the name coined by Langley for his aircraft) developed from one stage to the next, Langley improved his design.  He had his first successes in 1896 with his unmanned, heavier-than-air Aerodrome No. 5 and No. 6 models.  Following these successes, in 1898, Langley received grants from both the United States War Department and the Smithsonian Institution to develop a full-sized piloted flying machine.  Unfortunately, Langley’s experiments came to an abrupt end with two crashes on take-off of his full-sized Aerodrome on October 7 and December 8, 1903, and the Wright brothers’ successful flight nine days later.

Following Langley’s death in 1906, his laboratory and designs became part of the Smithsonian Institution’s collection, and care was taken to organize, catalog, and house the collection. This unique collection includes objects from Langley’s research laboratory and remains important due to its rarity and the experimental nature of early powered flight between 1891 and 1903.  Paper, wood, silk, copper, brass, and steel are incorporated into the collection’s variety of propellers, wings, fuselage concepts, engines, and launch platforms.  After preliminary sorting and organization of the material, in the fall of 2011, a Collections Care and Preservation Fund (CCPF) grant sought to formally upgrade the standard of this rare collection’s storage, and to provide valuable documentary information to researchers that was not previously available.  Some of the goals for the re-housing aspect of the project were to provide the collection with adequate or upgraded object supports and housing, and to prepare the collection for its eventual move to the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center.  Additional goals were to ensure the collection’s survival into the future by  improving documentation and addressing stabilization issues identified in the course of surveying.

Based on the diversity of the objects within the collection, we have had to consider innovative solutions in order to accommodate the varying sizes, materials, and conditions of the objects.   Due to the fragility of some objects, consideration was given to the quality of both the materials used and the support systems constructed.  When choosing materials for the re-housing project, we sought out products that are chemically stable, durable, and would not negatively impact the object.  Each artifact has different storage requirements and often calls for custom-made support systems in order to address the needs of the artifact, rather than trying to make the artifact fit a standardized system. Prior to constructing supports and housings, each object underwent a thorough inspection of its current condition and the identification of the safest points to support the object to avoid unnecessary damage during the course of handling and movement.  Archival materials such as ethafoam provide a sturdy support for the object; cushioning materials such as volara were then used to line the foam to provide a surface for the object to rest on. In some cases, a non-abrading surface was incorporated into the construction.  Archival tissue paper was sometimes used between the objects and their supports as an additional separating and buffering layer.  All supports were made of ethafoam carved to conform to the object’s shape and engage various points of contact; heat welding, rather than adhesive was used to cover the foam with volara in order to minimize the use of adhesives within enclosures.  Below are some of the solutions that we have constructed during the project.

 

Box Wing

Box wing on pallet (top); box wing resting inside drop-front box (lower)

When considering proper storage for the Box-Wing, forethought was given to the wing’s delicate wooden frame and heavily degrading silk surface. There were few points of contact in which the object could be safely engaged in order to prevent movement, while avoiding areas with delicate silk components.  A set of bumper supports strategically placed prevents movement of the wing horizontally, while the tight fit of the bumper pairs keeps the wing from displacing vertically.  The wing was placed on a two-tiered pallet system within a drop-front box in order to allow for ease of movement of the object without having to handle it directly, while providing a storage area for detached silk fragments beneath the wing, preventing disassociation.  This also served to reduce the footprint of the box’s size in storage.

 

Main Tank

Main tank cradle support; secondary tank and tubing cradles; overview of assembly with cradle supports (clockwise from top left)

The Tank Assembly consists of two copper tanks and associated piping extending in upward and opposite directions. The various sizes of the components of the objects required specialized cradle supports in order to prevent further deformation and damage.  This required individually designed supports of various heights and angles.  Twill tape was then used to mechanically prevent movement out of the cradles.

 

Boat Model

Boat model in drop-front box with project members for scale; rear cradle support with post for stabilization; front cradle with side walls to prevent movement; overview of lower cavity packing and supports (clockwise from top left)

When approaching the Boat Model it was realized that a combination of support types was needed in order to accommodate the main assembly of the object as well as the detached components. The model in its current state is unable to support itself.  Due to the large nature of the model, we were also challenged by a limited ability to increase its existing footprint within storage.  These considerations forced us to create an intricate support system that allowed all the pieces to fit together within a set parameter.  The model was stabilized using a combination of cradle and support pieces in order to prevent tilting and shifting of the object.  The front support was a cradle with two ridges to support the edges of the base, minimizing contact with a flaking surface, while the rear support featured a cradle and support post that fit within the rear well on the model and further prevented movement.  In order to minimize the space taken up by the detached elements, a cavity packing method was implemented within the space below the object.  These inlays were specially carved to fit each element and twill tape was used to prevent their vertical movement. The entire ethafoam support system was palletized on a piece of archival blue board to allow for ease of transfer to and from the object’s housing, as well as increase the strength of the support system.   A track was created from ethafoam to help guide the tray into its drop-front housing; the track also locks the tray into place and prevents vertical movement.

From the objects we have encountered so far, we have realized the true importance of creating specialized support structures and enclosures that will aid with research access and the survival of the artifact into the future.  When creating supports and enclosures, one must consider what is best for the object and seek out new and innovative systems; we learned you must really “think outside the box.”

Jessica Bulger is a Collections Care and Preservation Fund contractor, and Eleesha Blackwell is an intern for the Collections Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

Preserving and Displaying the “Bat-Wing Ship” – July Update

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This post is a follow up to Preserving and Displaying the “Bat-Wing Ship” published on September 9, 2011.

After preparing hundreds of condition reports last winter on the many artifacts that curators plan to exhibit in the upcoming Time and Navigation gallery opening at the Museum in Washington, DC in April, 2013, while simultaneously helping the Collections Processing Unit move artifacts from the Paul E. Garber Facility to new digs at the Udvar-Hazy Center in Chantilly, Virginia, Museum staff could finally return to work on the center section of the Horten H IX V3 jet fighter, the “Bat-Wing Ship.”  With help from retired treatment specialist Karl Heinzel, Museum conservator Lauren Horelick is determining the best methods to stabilize and protect the center section for movement to the Mary Baker Engen Restoration Hangar at the Udvar-Hazy Center later this year. Lauren carefully mapped the object to establish a baseline of problematic areas and to complete an essential step in recording present damage [Figure 1].

condition map

Figure 1: In-progress condition map showing the types and extent of damage currently seen on the metal components of the center section (Lauren Horelick photo, modified Arthur Bentley drawing published in Shepelev and Ottens, Horten Ho 229, Spirit of Thuringia, 2006).

 

In addition to creating written and photographic documentation of the jet, Lauren is conducting material identification analysis to identify the wood used to make the plywood, the adhesive used to bind the micron-thin layers of the plywood, and the adhesive used to join the large structural members of the wood panels. Her analysis will not only add to the history of the Horten wing, it will also help her craft the best conservation treatment protocol.  Summer interns working with scientists at the Museum Conservation Institute are contributing to the materials identification effort.  We will blog the results at the end of this summer.

We have begun initial effortsto protect the center section during the move to the Restoration Hanger.  These efforts include removing the fragile plywood belly panels so that conservators can treat the wood for long-term stabilization before reattaching it.  To remove the wood panels safely, it was necessary to apply a facing over sections of the wood to prevent loss of material [Figure 2].

horten

Figure 2: Lauren carefully attached a sheet of Reemay, a non-woven spun bonded polyester, to cover a section of fragile and delaminating plywood on the underside of the center section. She used BEVA (Berger’s ethylene vinyl acetate) film, a reversible heat-set adhesive, around the perimeter of the Reemay sheet to hold it in place and stabilize the wood so that the panel can safely be removed for later treatment. Lauren cut the small holes seen in the Reemay to provide access to the bolts securing the panel to the steel tube support frame.

Other conservation efforts include researching adhesives to stabilize the plywood and developing methods to address how to move the center section to the Udvar-Hazy Center.  Lauren is considering a multi-layered envelope system that would enclose the entire center section during travel.

Russ Lee is a curator in the Aeronautics Division of the National Air and Space Museum and Lauren Horelick is a conservator in the Collections Division of the National Air and Space Museum.