Without conservators, art and cultural heritage could not be preserved. Their work is indispensable to Grisebach as well. The profession straddles the line between science and craftsmanship, requiring a high level of technical expertise as well as the utmost precision. Above all, however, it thrives on a deep appreciation for each individual work. Four portraits.

Thomas Lucker – Restorer of Sculptures and Sculptors

Thomas Lucker isn’t one to overthink things. He’s more the type to tackle problems head-on – and occasionally make controversial decisions. For example, in 2010, when he recommended disposing of the weathered concrete replica of the Berlin Goethe Monument and instead reinstalling the original Carrara marble statue in the Tiergarten. “There was quite a stir among the profession,” he says. There were concerns that the marble might not withstand the elements. So far, at least, it has held up. Lucker doesn’t make such decisions out of arrogance or ignorance, but based on careful material analyses and decades of experience. He has been working in his profession for over 40 years – on individual objects, as a “doctor for artifacts,” as he puts it, for example for Grisebach, or as a planner of complex restoration projects. He is currently responsible for thousands of exhibits that will be displayed in a new exhibition following the renovation of the Roman-Germanic Museum in Cologne. He is also designing the new presentation of ancient Egyptian monumental architecture in the fourth wing of Berlin’s Pergamon Museum, which is yet to be built.

Lucker grew up in a cosmopolitan family that wasn’t particularly interested in culture. He spent much of his childhood on a ship; his father was a captain. Lucker enjoyed that, but he enjoyed reenacting the “Odyssey” with friends even more. At the time, he wanted to become an archaeologist; later, a sculptor. After completing an apprenticeship as a stonemason, he studied art. To this day, he works both as a freelance sculptor and as a restorer. In that capacity, he seeks pragmatic solutions. Ultimately, everything comes down to weighing the risks, as with the Goethe monument, Lucker says. One must accept: “Human beings are transient, and so are their works.” Of course, Lucker does everything he can to protect valuable objects – and he doesn’t object per se to displaying copies instead of originals. “But if you lock works of art away in storage out of excessive caution, it’s as if they didn’t exist at all!”

Felizitas zur Lippe – Painting Restorer Specializing in the 19th Century

Before Felizitas zur Lippe takes action, she first takes a very close look. “You have to get to know the painting,” she says. The certified restorer wants to understand: What defines a work, and what has it been through over time? With a spirit of inquiry and keen intuition, she examines the frame, canvas, and layers of paint. In this way, she uncovers many details that a non-specialist cannot see. An artist’s signature, for example, “reveals its true age under a magnifying glass through tiny craquelure cracks” – and may turn out to be a later addition. Labels, inventory numbers, or stamps provide further clues to a work’s history. Only after she has pieced together all the available puzzle pieces does Felizitas zur Lippe decide what needs to be done – how to preserve the original substance of a painting with as little intervention as possible.

She has been dedicated to her profession for 25 years. In addition to her work at Grisebach, where she is in high demand as an expert in classical modernism and 19th-century art, she works as a conservator across all periods, collaborating with private collections, museums, and insurance companies. Her love of art has been with her since childhood. She used to roam through museums with her grandmother, and an internship led her to the field of restoration. However, she didn’t stop at earning her diploma as a certified restorer; she also went on to earn a master’s degree in art history. What fascinates her about her profession is the “highly complex challenge of understanding and preserving works in their material, historical, and art-historical entirety.”

The result of her work is not flashy. It is evident less in a striking “before-and-after” effect than in a subtle visual transformation. The effect is profound: the viewer’s gaze is set free. It does not linger or focus on dirt or imperfections, but rather on what matters most – the work itself and its restored expressiveness.

Stefanie Schulze Buschhoff – Restorer Works on Paper

She was in eleventh grade when Stefanie Schulze Buschhoff visited the cathedral in her hometown of Münster. A chapel was covered in scaffolding, and standing on the scaffolding was a man retouching a starry sky with a fine brush. The two struck up a conversation, and she learned that the man was a restorer. It was clear to her then: “I wanted to do that, too.” She was fascinated by the focused, artisanal work, and during her subsequent training, she lost her heart to paper. Schulze Buschhoff has now been working in her profession for 30 years – and for almost just as long at Grisebach.

We visit her in the countryside near Berlin, where she lives and works. The sun is shining in the garden; horses graze in a meadow behind it; a peacock calls from somewhere. Her studio is bright and spacious. Most of the works that end up on the table here date from the 20th century. Right now, prints by Chagall and Lyonel Feininger are laid out. Fine tears must be closed, and small creases smoothed out. With the creases, she has to be careful that the sheet doesn’t end up as flat “as a flounder.” How much work she does on a piece always depends on the client and what they’re willing to “overlook.” For Schulze Buschhoff, however – as for almost all of her colleagues today – less is more: it’s better to conserve than to restore. “The best restorers are the ones who sit back and do nothing,” her instructor always used to say. Schulze Buschhoff works for private collectors and foundations; she feels most at home working independently. A position at a museum would be appealing, she says with a laugh, “but there you have to submit three applications just to use a pencil. That’s not for me.”

Schulze Buschhoff doesn’t need to own art. She’s grateful to encounter great works, but she’s just as happy to let them go. What matters, she says, is giving them what they need: a “backpack for the future.”

Katharina Martinelli – Restorer of Contemporary Art

Katharina Martinelli’s Berlin studio is a colorful and welcoming place. The certified conservator works here in close collaboration with universities and deliberately as part of a team. The team includes a studio manager as well as Isa von Lenthe, a trained conservator who contributes to the company’s success. In addition to classical paintings, “Roeck Restaurierung” focuses primarily on contemporary art – which always presents new challenges.

You need a network of experts from all fields with whom you can exchange ideas, says Martinelli. While her degree provided a solid foundation, it didn’t prepare her for every single case. The variety of materials is enormous, ranging from latex to eggshells and caviar to polyurethane foam. Consequently, the solutions are sometimes quite unusual. For example, when a scratch appeared in an acrylic glass artwork, a car polish shop once lent a hand with its expertise. Artists also seek Martinelli’s advice. She assists them in selecting materials for new works and considers how those materials will age over time. “I simply never get bored in this job.”

Martinelli’s time in New York was formative; after completing her studies, she worked for restorer Christian Scheidemann, a leading authority in contemporary art. From him, she learned to consider not only the chemical properties of a material but also its significance within the context of the artist’s intention. So she sometimes goes against the grain: Wouldn’t it be okay to completely repaint a Jeff Koons sculpture that has a scratch all around it, even if that fundamentally contradicts the restorer’s ideal of minimal intervention? Because Koons simply wants his work that way – flawless, like a freshly unboxed iPhone. And should “Eat Art” even be restored at all, since it’s meant to be consumed? Art must age with dignity, Martinelli believes, “even if that means sometimes allowing it to simply disappear.”