motore di ricerca in inglese sul restauro librario

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Scarica il salvaschermo sulla manipolazione dei materiali librari

Nuovamente funzionante ! è disponibile on line dal sito di patologia il salvaschermo sulla manipolazione dei materiali librari, può essere un sistema economico per l'educazione di personale e utenti, fatene buon uso ! scarica il salvaschermo

mercoledì, febbraio 29, 2012

Corso Carta :: Berlino 2012 | CESMAR7

Corso Carta :: Berlino 2012 | CESMAR7:

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L'Associazione CESMAR7 sta organizzando,un corso sul riconoscimento e caratterizzazione delle carte antiche e moderne e fabbricazione della carta con docente Gangolf Ulbricht di Berlino.

Il programma prevede quattro giorni fra teoria e pratica; stiamo ancora definendo il programma.

Gangolf Ulbricht esegue carta a mano occidentale e un velo giapponese sottilissimo (2 gr./mq.); ha iniziato a studiare la manifattura della carta dal 1980 e dopo varie esperienze in Europa e Giappone ora lavora nel suo laboratorio di Berlino.

Stiamo ancora valutando la possibilità di svolgere il corso presso il laboratorio di Lorenzo Pontalti e Lilia Gianotti a Roveré della Luna coordinatori del corso o nella più attraente Berlino, visti anche i relativi costi di viaggio verso la capitale tedesca.

Il corso potrebbe svolgersi durante i mesi estivi.
Chi fosse interessato è pregato di contattare la segreteria del CESMAR7.
A seconda del numero dei partecipanti verranno decise le date, il luogo ed i costi.

martedì, febbraio 28, 2012

l'archivio storico di Anguillara Sabazia.mov

Salviamo l'Archivio Storico di Anguillara


per chi si è perso presa diretta domenica ecco l'archivio storico di Anguillara alluvionato, non vi allarmate è del 2010, ormai il danno è fatto. Un'altra occasione in cui si è visto che la macchina dell'emergenza italiana non riesce a salvare gli archivi e le biblioteche.

Caccia a una nuova sede per i libri della Civica - Cronaca - Il Piccolo

Caccia a una nuova sede per i libri della Civica - Cronaca - Il Piccolo: Caccia a una nuova sede per i libri della Civica

Per ristrutturare Palazzo Biserini servono 10 milioni tutti da reperire Ma i 12 chilometri di scaffali vanno spostati subito. Mariani: non c’è luogo adatto

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di Gabriella Ziani

Si è aperta la caccia frenetica al palazzo che non c’è. Dei libri bagnati per spandimento e “abbandonati” al chiuso della Biblioteca civica si è deciso un irrevocabile e immediato trasloco. Ma è arduo trovare un riparo temporaneo. L’allagamento di palazzo Biserini nei giorni del gelo ha messo l’amministrazione comunale alle strette. Prima decisione, dopo riunioni collegiali a raffica: i 350 mila libri ancora contenuti nella sede storica, chiusa per restauri dal 2008, non possono più rimanere lì. Sono a rischio di rovinarsi tutti quanti. Seconda decisione: il palazzo firmato da Pietro Nobile dev’essere definitivamente tutto ristrutturato, e non più a interminabili lotti.

Per completare i lavori servono 10 milioni di euro. E sono da trovare. Il Comune si è dato tre mesi di tempo, riferisce l’assessore ai Lavori pubblici Elena Marchigiani, per risolvere il rebus. Per spostare i libri il tempo dev’essere invece molto più breve. La rottura del sistema antincendio ha fatto colare acqua per tutti i piani, per fortuna non sulle pareti laterali, più scaffalate. I 6000 libri danneggiati, trasferiti in emergenza in una sala da 400 metri quadrati al vicino Museo della civiltà istriana, di cui 2000 “inumiditi”, si sono ormai asciugati, «nessun inchiostro si è spanto, nessuna pagina ci è rimasta in mano, abbiamo subito chiamato il Centro regionale del restauro di Villa Manin che ha mandato specialisti e volontari», assicura la direttrice delle Biblioteche, Bianca Cuderi.

«I libri davvero rovinati sono solo 10 - spiega l’assessore alla Cultura Andrea Mariani -, il problema è doverli spostare prestissimo tutti, e in spazi adeguati, e rendendoli di nuovo disponibili al pubblico, ma una sede adatta non si vede, spezzare le collezioni in più sedi è terribilmente complicato. Abbiamo chiesto soccorso a tutti, spazi però non ce n’è».

Qui sta il primo rebus. Per sistemare 350 mila libri servono ben 12 chilometri lineari di scaffali. Mariani: «Servono sistemi antincendio particolari per la carta, abbiamo chiamato i Vigili del fuoco per aver chiare le normative». Cuderi: «Servono solai in grado di sopportare 800-1200 chilogrammi di peso al metro quadrato, sistemi di allarme particolari e microclima». Marchigiani: «Per trovare i soldi del restauro dovremmo vendere delle proprietà, serve però indagare: vincoli, destinazione d’uso, valore, mercato. Non è semplice affatto».

Ancora meno semplice, nonostante l’immediata solidarietà arrivata al Comune da tutti i bibliotecari di Trieste, è appunto traslocare, salvare il salvabile. «È proprio un rebus - conclude Marchigiani -, ma la biblioteca è il cuore di una città, serve una mobilitazione collettiva. Palazzo Biserini per noi è una priorità, ora faremo solo piccoli interventi per la sicurezza, poi il progetto complessivo. C’è un capitale di libri chiuso al freddo dal 2008: responsabilità tutta politica». Prima di tutti lo dice il sindaco Cosolini, che mastica amarissimo: «Il maltempo ha segnato un’esplosione di problemi che “bollivano” in silenzio, questa della biblioteca è la cronaca di una morte annunciata». Anche Bianca Cuderi, appena tornata alla guida delle biblioteche civiche, chiuso il capitolo delle note tecniche si tormenta: «Era prevedibilissimo quanto è successo, lo avevo detto in tutti i modi che non si potevano lasciar chiusi in un palazzo da restaurare 350 mila libri senza alcuna cura, ci sono precise responsabilità». Di chi ha preceduto in Municipio si dice anche: «Non è che non avessero più i soldi per il restauro: hanno smesso di cercarli».

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venerdì, febbraio 24, 2012

Anthropodermic Bibliopegy, or The Truth About Books Bound In Human Skin

Anthropodermic Bibliopegy, or The Truth About Books Bound In Human Skin: Top Stories

Anthropodermic Bibliopegy, or The Truth About Books Bound In Human Skin
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By Keith Veronese
Feb 22, 2012 9:00 AM
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Anthropodermic Bibliopegy, or The Truth About Books Bound In Human Skin

Rare old books are occasionally bound in human skin, including nipples, and even the face of a Guy Fawkes conspirator. Antiquarians have discovered these grisly leather covers on prayer books, astronomy treatises, court cases, and anatomy texts — all written in the past three to four hundred years.

Let's take a look at a how human skin was obtained to bind these books, a couple of particularly strange donors including a 1605 Gunpowder Plot conspirator (now memorialized on Guy Fawkes Day), and binders who aimed to maintain the structure of specific body parts for erotic texts.

Top image is a construction featuring a copy of A True and Perfect Relation and the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis from Evil Dead II, one of the better known fictional applications of anthropodermic bibliopegy.

What Is Anthropodermic Bibliopegy, and How Do You Do It?

Rising in popularity during the 17th and 18th Centuries, the practice of binding books in human skin, anthropodermic bibliopegy, fell off due to its macabre nature near the end of the Victorian Age. Physicians enjoyed the practice, often using human skin, regardless of the source, to bind anatomy texts.

A few examples of books with anthropodermic binding are bound out of affection for the author, but most early examples of anthropodermic bibliopegy are the result of human skin claimed from medical cadavers or criminals sentenced to death, with their skin used to bound the record of their trials as a form of punishment that surpasses death.

The tanning process often destroys DNA traces, so it's hard to identify the "donor." This leaves inscriptions and historical records as the most common methods for identifying books bound in human skin. How can you tell if you've got some human leather instead of cow hide? Human leather has a different pore size and shape than pig or calf skin along with a bizarre waxy smell, allowing fraudulent books to be identified.

Anthropodermic Bibliopegy, or The Truth About Books Bound In Human Skin The Book Bound With A Human Face

The skin of Father Henry Garnet, a part of the in the 1605 gunpowder plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament (made popular by Alan Moore and David Lloyd's V for Vendetta), binds a 1606 record of offenses against him, entitled A True and Perfect Relation of the Whole Proceedings Against the Late Most Barbarous Traitors, Garnet a Jesuit and His Confederates. The conspiracy still holds a special place for those in Great Britain, with the fifth of November celebrated as Guy Fawkes Day.

Garnet regularly listened to the confessions from the collaborators, and while not an active in the plot to blow up the House of Lords and kill King James I, Garnet received a punishment of death by hanging due to his knowledge of the plan, with his body later drawn and quartered prior to the removal of skin for binding.

One copy of of A True and Perfect Relation bound with Garnet's skin is particularly unusual, as an impression from the face of Garnet is seen on the front cover (there is an image of it above, but the face is actually fairly hard to see). This copy is not very large, approximately 4 by 6 inches, and sold at auction for $11,000 in 2007.

Anthropodermic Bibliopegy, or The Truth About Books Bound In Human SkinThe Ultimate Fan Gesture

An unknown French countess died an early death due to Tuberculosis, and sent an unusual gift to writer and astronomer Camille Flammarion, whom she loved and admired from afar. Flammarion studied the occult and made several dubious claims during his career. In 1910 told Flammarion the New York Times that Halley's Comet would destroy the Earth and later he claimed that intelligent Martians communicated with Earth in the ancient past.

The countess sent a strip of skin from her shoulders to Flammarion, with orders for him to use the piece in the binding of his his next book. Honored by the gesture, Flammarion bound a copy of 1877's Terres du ciel, The Lands of the Sky, a description of the position of the planets in our solar system with her skin. The copy stayed on display in a library in Juvisy-sur-Orge, France until 1925.

Full size
The Nipple Book

Medical interns supplied the breasts of deceased female patients to an English binder of erotica in the 19th century, with the breast skin used to bind copies of Justine et Juliette by Donatien Alphonse François, better known as the Marquis de Sade. In one extreme example, intact nipples are found on the front cover of copies of L'eloge des seins, "http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC194573/pdf/mlab00256-0039.pd>The Praise of Breasts of Women, by 18th Century French satirist Claude-François-Xavier Mercier.

See One In Person

If you don't want spend $11,000, you can see examples of anthropodermic bibliopegy in many university and national libraries. One of the prime places to see such work is the Mutter Museum at the College of Physicians of Philadelphia, where you can also check out Einstein's Brain during the visit. The University of California-Berkeley's Bancroft Library, Brown University, Surgeons' Hall Museumin Edinburgh, and the National Library of Australia also carry examples in their holdings. They probably will not let you touch the books, but then again, would you want to?

Images courtesy of Wilkinson's Auctioneers. Sources linked within the article.

Further Reading:

Enjoy our previous article on using human skin to bind a book and win the affection of a loved one.
Contact Keith Veronese:

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Istruzione, Formazione e Cultura :: Seminario "Cultural Heritage Preservation and Conservation..."

Istruzione, Formazione e Cultura :: Seminario "Cultural Heritage Preservation and Conservation...": Seminario "Cultural Heritage Preservation and Conservation..."

20 febbraio 2012



Seminario "Cultural Heritage Preservation and Conservation. What… when… who… why… where… how… how much… how long… Few questions in case of prevention and care after a disaster".



Il seminario si terrà il 15 Marzo 2012 a Milano, Palazzo ex Stelline, Corso Magenta 61, Sala Bramante.

E' un’iniziativa promossa dall’IFLA Standing Committee Preservation and Conservation e dalla Soprintendenza ai Beni Librari Regione Lombardia.
Intende evidenziare le risoluzioni che alcuni organismi nazionali e internazionali stanno mettendo in campo per offrire un riferimento e un supporto alla prevenzione e alla formazione per la salvaguardia e il ripristino del patrimonio culturale.




L'iscrizione è gratuita.
Informazioni:
Soprintendenza ai Beni Librari Regione Lombardia
tel 02 6765 5023, fax 02 6765 2733
soprintendenzabl@regione.lombardia.it

Allegati
Programma Seminario "Cultural Heritage Preservation and Conservation" Programma Seminario "Cultural Heritage Preservation and Conservation" (460 KB) PDF

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lunedì, febbraio 20, 2012

Can a Papermaker Help to Save Civilization? - NYTimes.com

Can a Papermaker Help to Save Civilization? - NYTimes.com: "Can a Papermaker Help to Save Civilization?"

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Can a Papermaker Help to Save Civilization?

Samantha Contis for The New York Times
By MARK LEVINE
Published: February 17, 2012
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Each November, a papermaker named Timothy Barrett gathers a group of friends and students on the grounds of the University of Iowa Research Park, a onetime tuberculosis sanitarium in Coralville, Iowa, for what he bills as a harvest event. Armed with hook-shaped knives, Barrett and his party hack away at a grove of bare, shrublike trees called kozo, a Japanese relative of the common mulberry. At his nearby studio, which is housed in the former sanitarium’s laundry facility, the bundles of cut kozo are steamed in a steel caldron to loosen the bark. After the bark is stripped from the kozo, it is hung on racks, where it shrivels to a crisp over a matter of days. Eventually the bark is rehydrated and sliced apart from its middle, “green” layer, and that layer, in turn, is sheared from the prized inner layer. It takes about a hundred pounds of harvested kozo trees to yield eight pounds of this “white bark,” from which Barrett will ultimately make a few hundred sheets of what connoisseurs consider to be some of the world’s most perfect paper.
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Barrett inspects a kozo tree, a Japanese relative of the common mulberry, which he harvests to make washi, a tissue-thin Japanese-style paper that is usually made during the winter. More Photos »
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Barrett, who is 61, has dedicated his life to unlocking the mysteries of paper, which he regards as both the elemental stuff of civilization and an endangered species in digital culture. For his range of paper-related activities, he received a $500,000 fellowship from the MacArthur Foundation in 2009. “Sometimes I worry about what a weird thing it is to be preoccupied with paper when there’s so much trouble in the world,” Barrett told me, “but then I think of how our whole culture is knitted together by paper, and it makes a kind of sense.” The Library of Congress and the Newberry Library in Chicago are among the institutions that often use his paper to mend their most important holdings, from illuminated manuscripts to musical scores penned by Mozart. In 1999, officials at the National Archives commissioned Barrett to fabricate paper on which to lay the fragile parchment originals of the U.S. Constitution, Bill of Rights and Declaration of Independence. A visitor to Washington, Barrett said, would be unlikely to notice his paper resting beneath the founding charters. “But if you kind of turn your head sideways and squint, you can see it.”

I first met Barrett last winter, when I went to his studio to see him make washi, the lustrous, translucent, tissue-thin Japanese-style paper that is the fruit of his mulberry harvest. Washi, he told me, was a centuries-old winter vocation of Japanese rice farmers. A thermostat on a cinder-block wall read 50.2 degrees, and Barrett was wearing a thick long-sleeve undershirt, a flannel shirt and a down vest beneath his heavy apron. He makes washi only six weeks each year, and forms sheets of paper only on Thursdays. Much of the rest of the time he is preparing the white bark according to a regimen that includes cooking it in a solution of wood-ash lye, laboriously picking the strands free of tiny bits of debris, beating them with a mechanical stamping device, pounding them with mallets and then macerating the stringy clumps in a tub outfitted with S-shaped blades that he says are modeled on a medieval Japanese sword.

He stepped inside an 8-by-10-foot corner of the studio that was enclosed by curtains of plastic sheeting and scooped a few liters of wet white bark fibers into a vat of purified water. Then he poured in what he called a “formation agent” — plant secretions that, he said, were the key to the amazing strength, softness and flexibility of sheets no thicker than a Kleenex. He stirred the vat with a four-foot pole, then pushed and pulled the prongs of a huge, rakelike wooden tool through the solution to disperse the fibers evenly in the water. “A hundred and fifty strokes,” he said, though he didn’t appear to be counting. He stirred with the pole again and paused. Now he was ready to make a sheet of paper.

He took hold of a rectangular wooden frame, or mold, that had a bamboo mat and dipped it into the vat. He lifted it out, let excess water splash over the sides, then plunged it back in. He shook his arms rhythmically. Small waves formed on the surface. He might have been taken for someone at a washtub, though he swayed in a languid, trancelike manner. Finally, he bent his knees deeply, took one more pull out of the vat and quickly tossed the excess off. Nothing but a wet sheen was left on the mold. I thought that the process had, for some reason, failed to produce paper. But soon, from a corner of the frame, Barrett peeled off a pale yellow sheet, which resembled a large damp handkerchief. “People are always surprised when they see it for the first time,” he told me afterward. “It’s as though it comes out of nowhere.” By the end of the day he had a stack of 100 sheets or so, which he would drain overnight, clamp in a screw press and dry on a wall of steam-heated sheet metal the following day. The finished product was a rectangle of radiant simplicity, an unfancy, richly hued blank presence that was the predictable result, Barrett insisted, of selecting proper materials, preparing them in patient, time-honored ways and approaching their manufacture with a spirit of total dedication. “This is pretty much how it was done for 1,800 years,” he remarked. “By hand. One sheet at a time.”

giovedì, febbraio 02, 2012

corso di restauro libri antichi a Firenze

Ma sì facciamoci del male dei bei corsi di due settimane (ben 48 ore) e ualà eccoti Restauratore di libri!

corso di restauro libri antichi a Firenze: :: Corso di restauro di libri antichi a Firenze