In common with other colleagues in the Centre for Research Collections, LHSA hosts volunteer placements and paid internships throughout the year. As in many other professions, gaining practical experience is a vital gateway into careers in the heritage sector, and our placements aim to help those at various stages: from those who've never really been 'behind-the-scenes' in an archive before to aspiring new professionals seeking their first paid experience to build up a specialist CV. Vannis Jones is one of our volunteers, and comes in for one morning a week. In her final year of an Art History & French degree here at the University, Vannis approached us last year with a view to gaining the experience she needed for a place on a professional qualification in archives after graduation. In her blog, she talks about the material she's been working with recently, from a medical business (literally) very close to home for us here at LHSA:
Hi there, I’m Vannis and I have been volunteering with LHSA
since January. Having recently received a conditional offer of a place in the
University of Glasgow’s MSc programme in Information Management and Preservation (largely thanks to LHSA!), this placement has given me a wonderful
opportunity to gain experience in the archives sector that I have no doubt will
be immensely useful during my studies in Glasgow! I have now catalogued three
small collections during my time here, the largest of which, pertaining to J.
Gardner & Son, Surgical Instrument Manufacturers, I would love to share
with you today.
The collection primarily consists
of sketchbooks and loose sketches of surgical instruments and artificial limbs
(and the occasional, and seemingly rather random, veterinary instruments...)
produced by J. Gardner & Son from the late nineteenth century to the
mid-twentieth century. J Gardner & Son opened just across the road from the University in Forrest Road, where the pub, Doctors, is now. The sketches often detail not only measurements and
other forming specifications for the instruments, but also frequently the
hospital, ward, and doctor who commissioned them. The
majority of these commissions came from doctors and hospitals in Edinburgh and
Glasgow, but some are from as far afield as Carlisle or even Stornoway, on the
Isle of Lewis!
One of the biggest challenges in
working with this collection was not actually the content - thankfully almost all
instruments were labelled in the sketches, and any that weren’t I was generally
able to identify using my trusty illustrated copy of J. Gardner & Son’s
1913 catalogue - but rather the condition of the materials. Large parts of the
collection have clearly been saved from a fire at some point, as a number of
pages are singed and crumbly at the edges, covered with a thin layer of ash.
This fragility, combined with the fact most of the sketches have been folded
for decades, means the sketches are heavily creased and the pages fall apart
and rip easily - it’s going to be a bit of a challenge for the conservation team
to get them ready for the reading room! A secondary issue is the dirty, dirty
hands you walk away with after handling the collection. Old graphite and ash
from a long-forgotten fire are not the best of combinations…
Having just completed my undergraduate degree in History of Art, I was also able to look at this collection through an art historical lens, and I grew to appreciate the strengths of the different artists employed to sketch at J. Gardner & Son. One of their most prolific designers was someone I have been able to identify as ‘T. Weir’, whose sketches often bordered on art. T.W. generally put a decent amount of effort into making his sketches not only extremely precise and detailed, but also aesthetically pleasing, and at times, beautiful. You would think that this accuracy and attention to detail would be common amongst all surgical instrument designers, but there was at least one J. Gardner & Son designer who was decidedly not particularly artistically inclined! (Incidentally, he never chose to sign his work.)
Dissector and probe image, caption: A beautifully clear and precise sketch of a dissector and probe by my new favourite 20th century artist, T. Weir. 1910 (GD47/1/7). |
Our only hope is that the final form of this detachable bronchoscope was not quite as wobbly our anonymous designer has depicted… (GD47/1/7) |
As someone with absolutely no
legitimate knowledge of surgical instruments or their usage, I did at times
come across instruments with rather comical names—comical to a layperson, at
least. The vast majority of the instruments were run-of-the-mill types like
forceps, knives, scissors, probes, and the like. However, I would from time to
time come across strange instruments such as a ‘special scalpel’ or a ‘pad for
heating kidney’. Far and away my favourite oddity I have found in the
collection, however, is the intestine crusher. Now, this was one of those
instances where you read the name of the instrument, and assume you’re having
some sort of palaeography issue. But no, the handwriting is quite clear—it’s an
intestine crusher. This instrument in particular sticks out in my mind because
while a number of the instruments in the collection sound unpleasant (‘brain
knives’ come to mind), it is at least possible to imagine that they could serve
some sort of beneficial medical purpose. Nothing about ‘intestine crusher’ says
‘tool of healing.’ A quick Google search returns results related primarily to
meatpacking, an unlikely use of the J. Gardner & Son instrument, so perhaps
we may never know its purpose. After all, I am no doctor…
The infamous intestine crusher (and one of the few sketches in ink!) - GD47/1/7 |
Overall this has been a really fascinating collection to
work with, and has presented a wide variety of challenges that I am sure have
prepared me well for many more archive-based projects in my future. It has been
really interesting to broaden my personal horizons by working with materials
that deal with matters outside of my area of expertise, but that were also
somehow familiar in that a number of the sketches were in some ways like pieces
of art. I certainly look forward to many more exciting projects at LHSA, and
more opportunities to facilitate the public’s access to our rich and diverse
collections!
I'm sure you'll be pleased to know that Vannis finished her History of Art & French degree with First Class Honours and graduated this week! You can find out more about volunteer and internship projects in the Centre for Research Collections here.
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