Detail from Titian's "Bacchus and Ariadne," 1520-23, National Gallery
Restoring myself to myself with a very unsteady hand—working in the dark, by touch. The conservators I’d read (all chemical savants) understood the few hours it took for time and light to dull Veronese’s sky, steal the red from Titian’s caped Bacchus, rob Vermeer’s buttery glaze and leave his laurels blue. But this is the work. If we don’t know how to unbind an organic dye from its metallic salt and remake it whole, we will look under the edges of the frame for who we were last, when last happy.
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