Preservation and Damage: Thoughts on Meaning and Stewardship of Artifacts Subject to Change | Volume 5, Issue 1

Preservation Periodical: Volume 5, Issue 1

Winter 2026

Preservation and Damage:

Thoughts on Meaning and Stewardship of Artifacts Subject to Change

By Schuler Daniel

Restoring and protecting the historic integrity of buildings, places, and artifacts might be the clearest way of stating the charge of the preservationist. In his Manifesto for the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings, William Morris put it as plainly as “staving off decay with daily care” or rather, taking consistent measures to protect and inhibit the effects of short- and long-term deterioration. But in the field, we often meet objects, buildings, and places deep into their lives, the representative remnants of harsh environments, events, or user programs -- scenarios that obscure the otherwise clear charge of the preservationist-steward. Occasionally, harsh events or patterns of use are the keystone of an artifact’s significance. In these cases, damage is not incidental, but critical to the artifact’s story and intrinsic to its historic value. This article explores examples which start to get at the interesting relationship of preservation and damage.

A few years ago, I was working for the National Parks Service at Mount Rainier and happened upon a delightful example of the preservation of damage. High up on the mountain at Camp Muir, Mt. Rainier’s “base camp” for summit-hopefuls, there is a historic shelter for the climbing guides. Designed and built in 1916, the guide shelter’s rustic, stone-rubble construction, projecting whole-log rafters, and crenelated roof demonstrates a fairly sophisticated (and ambitious) architectural style atop a glacier rising 10,000’ above sea level. The guide shelter has been a temporary home and refuge to hundreds of guides, and in the late 20th century, one of them etched their name into one of the logs above, commemorating his 100th summit of the mountain’s crater. Following him, countless other climbers have since etched their names into the shelter’s timbers, creating a living record of the mountain’s most dedicated guides. As I stood admiring these immortalized names, an irony struck me: These carvings, which could be considered damage to the shelter’s historic fabric, would be something I would prioritize protection and continuation of as part of the building’s historic significance and integrity, telling the story this resource plays in community and heroic mountaineering on Mt. Rainier.

Since that season at Mt. Rainier, my interest has been prompted in buildings and artifacts which bear damage in the same ironic way, and how preservationists, conservators, stewards, and caretakers treat them.

The following examples examine more critically how use and daily life can be engaged alongside Morris’s call for “daily care.” And furthermore, although it is the charge of the preservationist to avoid incurring damage and loss to historic fabric whenever possible, what about the cases where the damage precedes the preservation or is integral to the significance of the artifact?

Along London’s Thames embankment, opposite the London Eye, stands an Egyptian obelisk, “Cleopatra’s Needle,” constructed around 1500 BC in present-day Cairo. The sandstone monument was offered as a gift to Britain following Lord Nelson’s victory at the Nile in 1798 and subsequently shipped to London (a process not lacking in drama) in 1877. The obelisk was joined by two large bronze sphinxes on the embankment site in 1881, where they have perched since. The trio were not exempt from much of the damage endured by London through the 20th century's World Wars, most notably the violence precipitated by a 1917 air raid, which left abrasive scars and pints in the exposed sandstone and bronze.

Rather than repairing the damage to the historic monuments, however, the marks incurred in 1917 remain and are accompanied by an interpretive placard, explaining the significance of the pitting and punctures across the stone and bronze. Though the significance of the Egyptian sandstone and carvings was already revered, the damage to the stone is now intrinsically tied to the monument’s long history and maintained as part of the monument’s evolving significance.

A similar example in the Smithsonian’s own collection is found in, or rather in the side of, the Gunboat Philadelphia. Lauded for its role in the battle off Valcour Island in Lake Champlain on October 11, 1776, the Philadelphia was badly hit and sunk during the battle. With cannon holes in its side, the Philadelphia rested at the bottom of Lake Champlain for nearly 160 years before its rediscovery in 1935, “remarkably well preserved by the cold water.” The Philadelphia, on exhibit at the National Museum of American History, is now interpreted alongside an example of the shot that sank it; the cannon shot placed adjacent the cannon-sized gash in the hull’s side. Although conservation efforts have been underway at the gunboat to stabilize its timbers and iron fittings following years of exposure underwater and on display, unlike these latter forms of damage, the punctures in hull have intentionally been left un-repaired. Despite their role in ending the gunboat’s functional life, the damage they precipitated has been selectively and carefully preserved in-place. Here, again, the damage has become intrinsic to the significance of the object, and part of its exhibition and curation.

Not all forms of damage require the same philosophy of ongoing care. While some examples represent the literal mark of a singular, isolated event, others are ongoing, or even part of tradition, the continuation of which is intrinsic to the growing significance of the artifact. This is the case with the 100 desks of the Senate Chamber in the United States Capitol. Beginning in the early 20th century, senators began leaving their names inscribed in the drawers of their respective desks; some written on and others carved into the wood surface.

Over time, this act became a helpful method of tracking to whom each desk has belonged during their senatorial terms, and the tradition continues today. Though, like the inscribed names at Mt. Rainier’s Guide Shelter, the first instance of direct inscription into the desk could be regarded as reckless or insensitive to the fabric of the object, it also began a tradition of record keeping and user-engagement with the desks. This ongoing tradition, and the careful stewardship of it by Capitol staff, has created an enduring cycle of care and adds to the historical significance of the desks. This example also illustrates how use and close user-engagement with an artifact can reinforce a sense of the artifact’s relevance across an evolving community. Whether the tradition of engagement occurs every six years or every sixty, the example of the Senate Desks asserts that some material damage or change may, ironically, be exactly what ensures the longevity of the object’s relevance.

My conclusion following this inquiry is that the line between care and damage, or perhaps simply care and change, isn’t always clear. In these cases, preservation is not the erasure of damage, but the careful stewardship of meaning—where marks of use and tradition become as worthy of protection as the material itself.

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