Traditional and Conservation Interpretations of Pre- and Post-Collection Working Methods for Alaskan Yup’ik Masks

ABSTRACT

Seven Central Yup’ik masks from Alaska owned by the Anima Mundi Museum, the ethnological museum at the Vatican, were examined in the museum’s Conservation Laboratory over five months in 2022 by Ellen Pearlstein, in consultation with Chuna McIntyre, a Yup’ik artist and culture bearer. Technical details were documented and these together with cultural meanings were explored jointly by the two authors. The authors explored the history of Catholic missionary acquisition and technologies available to Yup’ik carvers in the 1920s, and ways in which the masks departed from traditional technologies at the time of their manufacture and were altered since then within a museum setting. Such modifications were likely designed to permit Yup’ik masks to take on different functions than sacred or social performance, such that their authenticity might be questioned. In working as co-authors, the criteria for authenticity were defined to be whether the material manifestations of these Yup’ik masks evoked the intangible meanings understood by and significant to a Yup’ik culture bearer. The masks achieve this goal, as do contemporary Yup’ik masks that introduce additional new materials and techniques. It is impossible for non-Yup’ik to decide whether masks evoke sacred and social performativity, therefore conservators of other backgrounds are advised to collaborate with community members in their assessment of culturally distant materials.

KEYWORDS:

• Driftwood
• indigenous
• carving methods
• Alaska
• authenticity

Introduction

The current authors had a unique opportunity to collaborate in the exploration of cultural and technical aspects, including the adaption of non-traditional working methods found on seven Central Yup’ik masks from Alaska owned by the Anima Mundi Museum, the ethnological museum at the Vatican. The masks, examined over five months in 2022, were known to have arrived for exhibition at the Pontifical Missionary Exposition sometime before or during 1924, and are referenced by Philip Delon, the Superior at Holy Cross Mission in 1924 as being part of a shipment from the Holy Cross Mission in Alaska to Rome for the exhibition (Delon and Collection 1924). A group of “Eskimo” masks are further referenced in the Anima Mundi Museum archives as having been received from the Holy Cross Mission for the Pontifical Missionary Exposition (ESPOS:MISS. VATIC 1925). Catholic missionary influence on Indigenous religions has been the subject of extensive study. Though the Russian Orthodox, Protestant, and Catholic missionary influences on Indigenous religions and practices have been documented, their influence on the materials used for these masks has not been a wide area of focus. Two important goals underpin this paper: to alert both a Yup’ik and an international audience about the presence of these masks at the Vatican Museums; and to evaluate evidence drawn from physical examination and Yup’ik interpretation about pre- and post-collection working methods and modifications that these masks present. A recent publication in Museum Management and Curatorship further serves to introduce these masks, their meanings, and the collaborative process to a readership beyond conservators (Pearlstein et al. 2023).

By 1924, Alaska had been widely explored by ethnologists and missionaries and mask collecting by Europeans has been documented as beginning in the 1840s. Consequently, many important collections of Yup’ik masks had been assembled by the museums in the USA Germany, and Denmark by 1901 (Fienup-Riordan 1996, 48). However, field ethnology continued into the 1920s and other collections developed (Vanstone 1968/69, 828–840), even while missionary activity suppressed the creation and performance of Yup’ik masks. It is further the case that the reliance upon traditional materials reported and documented for Yup’ik masks were modified as observed by the first author by the time of the production of the masks that traveled to the Vatican. Yet traditional meanings remained intact. In fact, the seven masks delivered to the Holy See for the Pontifical Missionary Exposition reveal nuanced levels of Yup’ik meanings and a complex combination of working methods. The masks show pre- and post- collection modifications that merit exploring.

Notions of authenticity have been variously described within conservation studies. According to Gao and Jones in an exploration of Asian and European so-called conservation dichotomies, an authentic historic object, building, or monument had come to be defined as one that is ‘true to its origins in terms of its date, material, form, authorship, workmanship and, in many cases, its primary context and use’ (Gao and Jones 2021, 91). These authors are quick to point out that at the end of the twentieth century these concepts had been challenged, with authenticity seen as a culturally conferred status assigned by heritage creators, consumers, scholars, and stewards (Gao and Jones 2021, 91). Authenticity and change in Yup’ik heritage resulting from religious influences and consequent assimilation have been explored by many anthropologists. According to Yup’ik scholar Fienup-Riordan (1996, 144):

By the 1930s, most Yup’ik communities had abandoned all of their most important ceremonies. [German anthropologist] Himmelheber was still able to work with expert carvers in the late 1930s; however, the elaborate multivillage masked performances were a thing of the past. When Father René Astruc began his tenure in southwestern Alaska in 1956, no one danced. His predecessor has forbidden it, but Father Astruc represented a new generation of Jesuits committed to reclaiming selected indigenous activities as building blocks for a new Catholicism.

Lee (2008), exploring the influence of the Evangelical Christian Church on the Yup’ik of Nunivak Island in Alaska, reports an increase in sales between 1920–1936 for all kinds of goods including masks. She maintains that at that time, Nunivak Islanders were still producing traditional shamanic masks, but ‘their size diminished, their execution was more slipshod, and their subject matter, which earlier had been wide-ranging, became more repetitive’ (Lee 2008, 10). Lee describes masks without eyeholes, with flat and non-face-conforming backs, without bite blocks for holding the mask to the face (see below), and with fewer and less elaborate appendages, which she describes as typifying moves away from authenticity and toward assimilation. Authors exploring more recent Yup’ik practices refer to a strong reliance upon the income provided by selling to tourists the art produced from the inedible components of marine mammals such as walrus ivory, horn, and baleen, by-products of subsistence hunting. Such hunting is subsidized by the state of Alaska, but limited income motivates carvers to develop a secondary source of income (Lincoln 2019).

Mossolova recently performed fieldwork, interviewing seven highly acknowledged contemporary Yup’ik mask makers. Reflecting upon these modern practitioners and their masks, she states:

Only a few of them [contemporary mask makers] grew up making masks or had the opportunity to watch somebody practice this art form. The old Yup’ik ways of learning by observing others and trial and error were not an option for the artists who were raised in urban environment[s], nor even for those who grew up in a village. Most of the Elders in villages who witnessed and remembered the masked dances of the old days in a qasgiq [men’s house/communal place (University of Alaska Fairbanks, Center for Alaska Native Health Research 2023)] were no longer around to pass on the knowledge and share their stories. Most of these contemporary carvers had to learn carving not from culture bearers in their communities, but through formal education, that is, by attending carving classes and courses, researching museum collections, studying ethnographic books and art catalogues (like the one of the Agayuliyararput exhibit), and so forth (Mossolova 2020, 368–9).

The retention of traditional meanings through the use of modern materials is discussed in Mossolova’s dissertation. She interviewed carvers Mike McIntyre, Benjamin Charles, and Moses Tulim in Bethel; Phillip John Aarnaquq Charette in Fairbanks; and Drew Michael, Andrea Akerelrea, and Earl Chevak in Anchorage (Mossolova 2020, 51) about authenticity. In fact, Mossolova reports that in her discussions with these Yup’ik carvers about the term ‘replica’, these artists defined them as a new item visually resembling historic examples, but neither an exact copy nor one made from traditional materials (Mossolova 2020, 62). She includes in her dissertation a striking image of mixed-media masks made by contemporary Alaskan artists in an exhibition ‘Alaska Past/Present’ at the Musée de Boulogne-sur-Mer, France in 2017 (Mossolova 2020, Figure 15, p. 60). Mossolova (2020) shares additional images captured during her fieldwork.

Against this backdrop of changes in materials and meanings for Yup’ik masks, the seven masks at the Anima Mundi Museum were examined and thoroughly documented to permit detailed consultation between co-authors, only one of whom was at the Vatican (Pearlstein et al. 2023). As nontraditional materials were discovered, the goal became one of combining one author’s abilities in technical assessment with the other author’s abilities in understanding the masks’ meanings. Sharing these masks with a wider audience was a further goal. At the conclusion of this work, the conservation practice of documenting materials and modifications remained important but impossible to apply as authenticity criteria without Indigenous consultation.

The Yup’ik masks at the Vatican

The seven Yup’ik masks at the Anima Mundi incorporate imagery of fish, birds, marine mammals, and land mammals that have traditional significance. Through the preparation of extensive documentation and sharing of images and questions by the first author with the second, followed by a webinar between authors with the first author at the Vatican with access to the masks and museum staff, a great deal of learning about Central Yup’ik imagery and materials ensued. This process and detailed findings are described in another paper (Pearlstein et al. 2023). It should be noted that each of the masks has now-empty attachment sites visible as holes in the main mask structure, where appendages have been lost. What follows is a brief description of each mask with their Yup’ik names provided by co-author McIntyre. They are presented in the order in which he described them.

McIntyre described the multiple iconographies of the subjects represented on mask number 101596 (Figure 1): the whale, a gentle creature until it reaches dry land where it transforms into a wolf; the seal, mother of all sea creatures in their tradition; the fish and their symbolic values intertwined as in the Amanguak: a mask half beluga and half walrus, since the walrus is the consort of the Beluga whale. He described the hoop encircling the mask, known in Yup’ik as ella or ellanguaq, as ‘the very air I am breathing, the consciousness I possess, the earth we stand on, the air we breathe.’ The hoop has gravity, as the seal is peering at us through her universe.

Figure 1. Yup’ik mask 101596. Anima Mundi, Photo Vatican Museums, Images and Rights Department © Governorate of the Vatican City State - Directorate of the Vatican Museums.

McIntyre referenced documentation provided for 101592 (Figure 2), and he provided the name Agyalek (star-studded) kegluneq (wolf) and told us it refers to a celestial wolf among the stars, but not a particular constellation. This mask probably had a hoop (ella or ellanguaq). But the evidence of attachment points on the mask indicate that the hoop was partial. He says an open hoop (ella or ellanguaq) is like leading a wake traveling through space. Wolves were considered to have human Yup’ik qualities, or Yukcagaraat.

Figure 2. Yup’ik mask 101592. Anima Mundi, Photo Vatican Museums, Images and Rights Department © Governorate of the Vatican City State - Directorate of the Vatican Museums.

The shape of 101593 is Unan, a spiritual hand with no thumb, or the four fingered hand that cannot grab (Figure 3). He further explained that spiritual hands only have four fingers, because hands without thumbs cannot grab, and Yup’ik people did this in their own interest, because as humans we do not wish to be grabbed! The central figure is a land animal with two forearms, and there are holes on the edges so additional appendages are missing.

Figure 3. Yup’ik mask 101593. Anima Mundi, Photo Vatican Museums, Images and Rights Department © Governorate of the Vatican City State - Directorate of the Vatican Museums.

The mask 101594 has a duck head, a spirit face, and spiritual hands (Figure 4). He said this is a Kep’alek, or Greater scaup duck (Aythya marila), because of the long flat beak. The central vertical groove is like veins going through our body, another poetic reference to all of humanity. White spots are stars in the night sky. The nostrils can also serve as the eyes of another spirit.

Figure 4. Yup’ik mask 101594. Anima Mundi, Photo Vatican Museums, Images and Rights Department © Governorate of the Vatican City State - Directorate of the Vatican Museums.

Also representing a very specific bird, McIntyre referred to the subject of 101595 as the Qecervak, or Glaucous gull (Larus hyperboreus), because of the beak with the hook at the tip (Figure 5). The central face is a combination of an aerial view of a bird, and the sea louse, indicated by the shape of the mouth. The sea louse is a crustacean that is a parasite for fish, and it is not eaten. The gull and eyes are like a bird in a bird. The entire face is also a conical head spirit!

Figure 5. Yup’ik mask 101595. Note baleen extensions and tail feather above eyes with seal gut at tip. Anima Mundi, Photo Vatican Museums, Images and Rights Department © Governorate of the Vatican City State - Directorate of the Vatican Museums.

McIntyre referred to 104661 as the Culugpauk, or Grayling mask, a kind of fish with the large fin (Thymallus thymallus) (Figure 6). The central figure is a seal, with a back flipper on the upper proper left. The upper proper right appendage is a seashell. The frowning expression is connected to the moon.

Figure 6. Yup’ik mask 104661. Anima Mundi, Photo Vatican Museums, Images and Rights Department © Governorate of the Vatican City State - Directorate of the Vatican Museums.

We learned finally that 101591 (Figure 7) is the Angllulria (diving) maklak (bearded seal), diving great bearded seal, diving into the depths of the sea. It has the sun emblem on the back. It’s taking the sun along into the sea. The face is human too, the nose adds that feature. The tail may also be read as a conical spirit.

Figure 7. Yup’ik mask 101591. Anima Mundi, Photo Vatican Museums, Images and Rights Department © Governorate of the Vatican City State - Directorate of the Vatican Museums.

Yup’ik mask materials

The authors documented material and technological choices from the seven Yup’ik masks, relying on close observation and magnification provided with a USB microscope. Archival and anthropological literature were consulted. The painting materials used on the seven masks were not explored due to the absence of analytical or diagnostic imaging tools and the inability to take samples. Readers are invited to review an article on pigments and paint on two nineteenth century Yup’ik masks (Geier 2006), though it is of course possible that painting traditions changed for masks created in the twentieth century.

Wood

None of the masks were sampled for any form of wood analysis; instead, visual and archival analysis were performed. Yup’ik masks are broadly characterized as being made from driftwood, buoyant logs that originate largely from ‘ … western North American river drainages, principally the Mackenzie, the Yukon and the Kuskokwim [Rivers] (Alix 2005, 85; Alix and Brewster, 2004). Claire Alix performed wood anatomy studies of large sample sets of Arctic driftwood to determine that ‘ … spruce (Picea sp.), poplar (Populus sp.), and willow (Salix spp.) are the three main taxa present in northwestern Alaska [driftwood] while spruce, willow, and larch (Larix sp.) are dominant on the Russian side of Bering Strait’ (Alix 2005, 88–89). In a treeless landscape with a strong cultural knowledge of driftwood use (Alix 2010), the harvesting of driftwood along with its rarity in 1927 are evidenced by the correspondence of an unidentified missionary identified only as M.L. s.j. (or Society of Jesus) from Akulurak, Alaska to the Right Reverend Father Hughes:

The second important work is the provision of wood. For this work, subtility and strength is required. In order to reach the wood we must go as far as 150 and 200 miles up the river, where the Yukon has many sleughs [marshes (Dictionary of the Scots Languages, 2023)]. The drifted logs so estimated are found on the shores. A group of men and boys put them in the water and a small raft is build (sic), then brought with the current to a central place. Here the stronger men build two long and large rafts which are towed directly down the river to the Mission. The work alone will require two to three weeks and the cost is quite heavy … (Akulurak Collection Part 2. 2022).

In keeping with documented findings including the identity of Alaskan driftwood species, all the masks in the Anima Mundi Museum are made of a softwood, evidenced by the complete absence of wood vessels, and visible resin canals running in the grain direction within three out of the seven masks (101591; 101593; 101594) (Figure 8). An exception may be 101595, depicting a sea louse surmounted by a glaucous gull, which shows evidence of vessels or pores characteristic of hardwood (Figure 9). All woods used except within 101595, and 104661, depicting a grayling fish, and the attached seal tail on 101591, are carved with the mask axis longitudinal to the tree. The wood cross section visible on the side, rather than the bottom, of the mask number 101595 is shown here as Figure 10. Most of the masks exhibit distinct growth rings with dark early wood growth (see for example Figure 11), typical of coniferous wood from temperate regions (Richter et al. 2004). While Jesuit archives confirm that commercial lumber was being purchased by Arctic missions by the dates in question (Delon and collection 1924), other evidence suggests that commercial lumber was reserved for large structures such as buildings (Alix 2010), and the presence of knots and branch sites on the masks may support continued use of driftwood for these masks despite imported lumber use for large scale construction (Heginbotham 2022).

Figure 8. Seal mask detail showing resin canals. Yup’ik mask 101591. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Figure 9. Sea louse mask showing wood porosity. Yup’ik mask 101595. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Figure 10. Sea louse mask showing transverse mask axis. Yup’ik mask 101595. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Figure 11. Cross-sectional wood growth. Yup’ik mask 101592. Anima Mundi. Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Baleen

Both 101595, depicting a sea louse surmounted by a glaucous gull, and 104661, depicting a grayling fish incorporate traditional materials such as whale baleen (or keratinous sieve plates from the mouths of whales) (Figure 12). The baleen appears in these masks as short projections, or traces broken off at the mask surface. McIntyre reports that baleen was traded down from up north, was therefore a rare commodity, and that this baleen was used to attach many now missing feet, wings, and tail. Such attachment methods are illustrated in a mask collected at Nunivak and previously owned by the National Museum of Denmark. This is illustrated in Rousselet et al. (1991, 113).

Figure 12. Grayling fish mask detail showing baleen. Yup’ik mask 104661. Anima Mundi. Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Feathers

Feathers are found frequently on Yup’ik masks, yet only 101595, the sea louse surmounted by a gull, maintains a duck tail feather from the male Clangula hyemalis (Figure 13). All of the other masks have vacant holes around their perimeters, generally without any evidence of what was held there, nor any adhesive traces of a former fixative. Historically feathers were held in place mechanically. Images of numerous published masks (Rousselet et al. 1991; Fienup-Riordan 1996), along with co-author McIntyre’s affirmation, suggest that feathers were indeed what were in place in these holes, and other authors point out that the introduction of adhesive to hold such appendages is a more recent occurrence (Ray 1975).

Figure 13. Duck tail feather on sea louse mask. Yup’ik mask 101595. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Tool marks

One of the masks in this group, 101596 depicting the beluga whale and his consort the walrus, has evidence of cross-sectional cutting by a machine saw (Figure 14). This band saw evidence has been described by a wood conservator as a series of parallel chatter marks perpendicular to the wood being cut (Williams 2008). This can further be described as linear parallel marks that appear cutting across the rough cross-sectional morphology of the wood. While there may be no connection at all between these masks and the Alaskan missionary who authored a letter to Father Sauer in 1927, there is nonetheless evidence that power saws were in use in Alaskan missions, and of supplies being disseminated from the Holy Cross Mission from where these masks were shipped:

Again, I ordered a circular saw blade from Higgins Machinery Co. I know that Schwabacher had some but I wanted it from Higgins because the one we had from them gave splendid results. The one that Schwabacher sent us charging 22 dollars is no good at all, at least not for our work. The Higgins saw has done the work for us for two years now and is still very good … (Akulurak Collection Part 2, 2022)

In a more traditional frame, all of the masks examined show evidence of adze, gouge, or chisel carving, that is, multidirectional faceted carving marks that have a slight concavity (Figure 15). Thus, even in cases where sections of wood may have been cut down using power tools, the individual mask features were cut with hand tools.

Figure 14. Beluga and walrus mask detail showing power cut saw edge. Yup’ik mask 101596. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Figure 15. Wolf mask, reverse showing tool marks. Yup’ik mask 101592. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

One mask in this group, the one with the beluga whale and walrus (101596), exhibits an unusual series of circular overlapping marks on the interior only of the wooden hoop surround, or ella or ellanguaq (Figure 16). Through discussion between co-authors it has come to light that these are made by bending the narrow wood while biting with the artist’s teeth. This begs the question of whether teeth marks might appear on both sides of the wood being bent, but it may be that such marks on the outer surface have been smoothed after shaping by the maker.

Figure 16. Beluga and walrus mask detail showing bite marks. Yup’ik mask 101596. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Unique to the spiritual hand mask (101593) are diamond or square shaped awl marks above the face. These precede the application of paint on the mask and were clearly designed to hold appendages now missing (Figure 17). McIntyre believes that these missing appendages included feather stars, or white downy feathers attached to long extensions made of quill or other materials. These marks are indicative of access to awls. Awls were not the only way that small holes were made on these masks. Small circular holes are evident on 101596, depicting the beluga whale and his consort the walrus, where remnants of paired grass stems were found. Further, drill holes are also evident, such as in the sea louse mask 101595 (Figure 18).

Figure 17. Hand mask detail showing awl hole. Yup’ik mask 101593. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Figure 18. Sea louse mask, detail of drilled hole. Yup’ik mask 101595. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Bite blocks

The advantage of sharing images of the back sides of Yup’ik and other Arctic masks is the ability to share the presence of not only the tool marks, but of the bite blocks, or integral blocks of wood used by the wearer to hold the mask onto the face using lips, teeth, and face muscles. Bite blocks are found on five out of the seven masks studied at the Anima Mundi Museum. The authors have found no date correlation for the presence or absence of bite blocks, though Lee describes them as being absent on late masks made for use as wall ornaments (Lee 2008). Despite that observation, wooden masks known to be pre-contact and excavated and reported upon at Nunalleq do not have bite blocks (Mossolova 2020, 23). The two masks at the Vatican lacking bite blocks are those depicting the four fingered spiritual hand (101593) and the one depicting a sea louse surmounted by a glaucous gull (101595). Interestingly, the bite block on the seal mask (101591) has been trimmed to a reduced dimension (Figure 19). This may constitute an earlier effort made to reduce the depth of the bite block so as not to protrude beyond the depth of the walls of the mask, allowing the mask to align flat against a wall when the mask was hung for display.

Figure 19. Trimmed bite block on Seal mask. Yup’ik mask 101591. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Wooden dowels

Three of the Yup’ik masks examined utilize wooden dowels ranging from natural narrow branches to modified elements narrowed into dowel form. The mask depicting a wolf, 101592, makes use of natural branches with bark in place as a means for plugging holes in the back of the mask (Figure 20). This same mask utilizes slightly faceted circular lengths of wood of almost identical diameter for the wolf’s teeth, suggesting that these were perhaps made from uniformly sized dowels. The mask surmounted by a duck head (101594) has teeth which are also made from faceted uniformly sized elements. The spiritual hand mask (101593) uses a approx. 12mm diameter dowel as a joining mechanism for the second finger from the proper left. A long flat-headed nail is installed through the front of the finger and wraps around the wider dowel at the back; that dowel is inserted in holes in the two outer fingers. That dowel shows slight toolmark chattering, suggesting that perhaps a dowel plate was used in its production (Figure 21).

Figure 20. Wolf mask reverse detail of branch dowel plug. Yup’ik mask 101592. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Figure 21. Hand mask, detail of lower edge with joining dowel. Yup’ik mask 101593. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Fasteners

In the case of the masks now in the Anima Mundi, manufactured metal fasteners are found in what is presumed to be original fabrication, but also as historical missionary or museum additions. For example, flat-headed nails and circular section white metal wires are prevalent as fasteners on the masks currently held at the Anima Mundi. Personal communication with anthropologist specialists, a review of images in large compendia of Yup’ik masks, as well as published material captions (Rousselet et al. 1991; Fienup-Riordan 1996) suggest that these are atypical fasteners for these masks which typically utilize wooden dowels, sinew, cordage, or baleen to attach wooden appendages and also display feather and grass appendages installed in holes. Distinguishing original manufacture methods from missionary or museum interventions is difficult, except in the case where earlier attachment methods that are extant have been modified with atypical fasteners, or what is presumed to be original paint overlies the fasteners.

The spiritual hand mask (101593) uses wires to attach two side arms (Figure 3), along with the nail previously described that fastens a finger to a dowel support. The nail is painted continuously with the surrounding mask. One wire is used on each side of the mask, extending through a hole in the finger attachment and then looping back so that both ends are inserted into the wood of mask. In the case of the mask with the whale and walrus (101596), single wires emanate from the mask and pierce wooden attachments, where they are folded on the back side of the attachments to hold them in place (Figure 1). Nails are also prevalent on this mask, covered with what is believed to be original polychrome. Finally, single metal wires are used on the grayling mask, 104661, to support two side fins (Figure 6). These fins have been repositioned since an image was taken of the mask on display sometime in the 1960s, suggesting a museum intervention. This documentation supporting an early museum intervention could suggest that all of the wire attachments are museum revisions designed to increase stability.

The most interesting intentional alterations have occurred on the mask surmounted by the duck head, 101594, the sea louse mask, 101595, and the seal mask, 101591. In the first case, wooden dowels used for joining the side appendages have been sawn off flush with the mask surface and replaced with metal fasteners, and both the cut wood and metal are painted uniformly with the mask (Figure 22). This most certainly suggests that the wood attaching dowels were found to be too unstable, and that both the fastener and the paint were updated. Preparatory score marks in groups of three seem to indicate planned locations for placing holes for the faceted dowels that are the teeth (Figure 23). Further, on the seal mask there are nails crudely driven into the mask to secure the join of the head to the body, crushing the wood (Figure 24). Similarly on the sea louse mask, nails are driven in from the outside of the join to crudely attach the gull head section, and preparatory scoring marks are visible in the wood adjacent to holes where baleen has been inserted (Figure 9).

Figure 22. Mask surmounted by duck head, detail of sawn off and painted dowel. Yup’ik mask 101594. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Figure 23. Mask surmounted by a duck head, detail of teeth. Yup’ik mask 101594. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Figure 24. Seal mask, detail of the join of the head to the body. Yup’ik mask 101591. Anima Mundi, Vatican Museums. Photo Ellen Pearlstein.

Finally, the seal mask (101591) which is made in three sections shows evidence of an adhesive introduced to secure the tail to the main, middle section. This adhesive has yellowed and was fluid upon application and runs down the back side of the mask and onto the front of the mask through the proper left eye hole (Figure 24). As previously noted and illustrated, the seal head has similarly been attached with adhesive along with a nail inserted from the exterior.

All of these observations provide evidence that the manufacture or modification of this group of Yup’ik masks incorporates novel technologies that depart from the methods documented as timeless production processes (Ray 1975; Fienup-Riordan 1996; Mossolova 2020). Yet the masks’ meanings are quintessentially Yup’ik. While there is some evidence, such as on the grayling mask, the seal, and the mask surmounted by the duck head, that modifications occurred post-manufacture and while within the museum, these remain undocumented in museum records as is the case for early interventions. However, there are also points of evidence that indicate the availability of novel tools and techniques at the Alaska Catholic missions whose agents worked rapidly to gather these masks alongside their normal daily duties. At the same time, tools and techniques available for woodworking in the 1920s in the USA were undergoing technological advancements. Kinney states: ‘Much of the mechanization effort was directed toward the development and refinement of woodworking machinery to cut, shape, sand and bore wood at high speeds’ (Kinney 1999).

Authenticity

It is a central part of the practices of a conservator to document both materials and material changes in the heritage we steward. This is exemplified in an excellent 2012 thesis about Yup’ik masks collected by E. W. Hawes in 1912, and now held in the Canadian Museum of History. Six masks, two finger masks, and a group of grass hand ornaments are traced through historical images to illustrate condition changes (Flot 2012). Flot concludes: ‘It therefore seems to have been [that], during the history of objects, losses of feathers or an amalgam between their original feathers and other feathers, [were] added either from other masks of this set, or added later during previous restoration work’ (Flot 2012, 95). This understanding of whether and when materials have been lost or added to heritage items is intricately tied up with decision-making about their authenticity and even the retention of these materials during conservation treatments.

Along with these practices, there is within conservation a strong interest in using documentation of tangible evidence of manufacture and alteration to determine how this evidence may relate to authenticity. Circling back to Gao and Jones, authenticity has been measured according to an item being ‘true to its origins in terms of its date, material, form, authorship, workmanship and, in many cases, its primary context and use’ (Gao and Jones 2021). Examples raised by this study indicate the historical evidence of adze carving, wood doweling, cordage, and sinew as the primary methods of manufacture used in Yup’ik masks, so that conservators may question whether the creation of these seven masks sent to the Holy See was influenced by woodworking practices – including band saws and metal fasteners – in use at the Catholic missions. What does this tell us about authenticity? Further, the evidence of trimmed wooden dowels and the subsequent replacement with metal rods, or the trimming of the bite block to permit hanging display, or the addition of adhesive and nailed joins, suggest modifications designed to permit Yup’ik masks to take on functions different from sacred or social performance, challenging their significant intangible authenticity.

In working with co-author McIntyre, a different kind of authenticity is raised. That is, the criteria are whether the material manifestations of these Yup’ik masks can evoke the intangible meanings understood by and significant to Yup’ik culture bearers? The answer is an unequivocal yes. As he has explained, and as contemporary mask carvers interviewed by Mossolova reported (Mossolova 2021), the technological modifications conservators are able to record do not impact the ability of these masks to provide supplication to centuries-old practices, dreams, and spirits. It is important that the modifications be documented but they should not be considered as challenging the most important authenticity criteria.

Conclusions and recommendations

As Yup’ik masks were traditionally burned in bonfires– though this step must have not always happened as many are preserved in collections and now published– the examples maintained in museums are those that permit generations of Yup’ik and non-Yup’ik to visit with them. As conservators seek to fully document and maintain the stability of such items, they must keep in mind that nothing we do to intervene should limit the future use of this heritage. It is true that Yup’ik masks are both sacred and social, that their sparse manufacture during the missionary period in Alaska was influenced by cultural oppression, illness, and social change, and that the presence of these masks in collections has led to a variety of interventions, both stable and unstable. It is also true that different Yup’ik culture bearers will hold different opinions about whether these masks should be repatriated, performed, displayed, or carefully sheltered. However, it is important for conservators to understand that in the absence of Yup’ik collaboration, decisions about the ways that modifications might be contributing to authenticity, and material interventions that follow, will not be as fully informed as they should be. Those who are stewarding these collections are encouraged to seek out collaborative strategies.

Several publications provide guidance about the ways in which conservators can effectively collaborate with Indigenous colleagues. Strongly recommended for use in North America are the Guidelines for Collaboration (Indian Arts Research Center 2019). Museum colleagues at the National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI) co-authored an excellent article for conservators about consultation entitled ‘Practical Aspects of Consultation with Communities’ (Johnson et al. 2005), along with countless other case study examples of conservation work performed collaboratively and published by NMAI staff. The same is true for the papers by Hamilton in Australia. Wharton presents his doctoral research involving working with native Hawaiians for decision making about the conservation of a non-Indigenous bronze sculpture depicting a native Hawaiian leader (Wharton 2011). Canadian museum colleagues have produced a recent publication about appropriate responses to the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which include privileging First Nations voices (Canadian Museums Association 2022). The current co-authors describe a process for locating collections collaborators through a rich conservation network, and then using virtual connections to share documentation and meet collaboratively across the globe with all museum staff engaged (Pearlstein et al. 2023).

In locating members of recognized Indigenous communities who are interested in and knowledgeable about heritage, conservators frequently rely upon the generosity of colleagues to recommend collaborators. In the USA we often start by contacting the Tribal Historic Preservation Officer, individuals appointed to protect and preserve traditional cultural properties for a specific federally recognized community (National Tribal Historic Preservation Officers, 2023). In the case of Alaska, there are none of these officers at present. An alternative is to contact colleagues at museums that are stewarding parallel collections to those you are engaged with to learn from their experiences. Conservators are always encouraged to engage with scholars who have worked or are working with artists within the community of interest, including many of the authors cited in this text in the case of the Yup’ik. It is acknowledged that collaborative conservation requires planning for the resources necessary to support the work. The additional work required to locate community contacts will be paid back immeasurably by increased insights and understanding.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Additional information

Funding

This work was supported by Suzanne Deal Booth fellow at the American Academy in Rome; UCLA Social Science Division, sabbatical.