Fifteen years ago, Martin
Cooper was just another physics major
anticipating a typical big-business science research
job. If anyone had told him he'd end up at the forefront
of England's art-restoration industry, he would have
politely intimated that the idea was absurd.
Yet today he sits in an airy, highly secured
workspace, surrounded by a dozen souped-up PCs and
specially shielded rooms containing four US $50 000-plus
lasers. Here, he breathes new life into priceless Edgar
Degas sculptures, thousand-year-old Saxon crosses, a
Roman skull, and even medieval graffiti left behind by
prisoners locked in the infamous Tower of London.
"I never really had a clear idea of what I wanted to
do for a career, but I would have never guessed I'd be
working in a museum," says Cooper. He grew up in
Hertfordshire, near London, the son of a statistician
and a secretarial instructor. On the verge of graduating
from Loughborough University in 1990, Cooper applied for
a few physics research jobs in manufacturing firms.
Luckily, no one bit. When one of his professors
advertised for a doctoral student to help fine-tune
lasers to clean pollution from stone sculpture, he
thought, "Well, that sounds interesting. I'll try that."
By the time Cooper finished his Ph.D. in 1994, the
laser technology had attracted the attention of the
National Museums Liverpool, which was looking for safer
restoration methods—and Cooper landed a job.
The museums' restoration units were combined and
renamed the Conservation Centre in 1997. Since then,
Cooper has been a scientist with its Conservation
Technologies division, where he uses lasers and computer
modeling to restore, replicate, and catalog public
monuments, museum art, and private collections.
For all its sophistication, the Centre's equipment
uses established technologies rather than new
inventions. Its lasers release 10-nanosecond pulses of
infrared light at a wavelength of 1064 nanometers—just
what it takes to vaporize accumulated dirt and corrosion
without harming the artwork itself. The contaminant
coating, usually carbon and gypsum from pollutants,
absorbs the light energy before the underlying marble,
limestone, or bronze does, causing the coating to pop
off, a technique similar to laser cosmetic surgery.
"You have to be careful, because every surface
absorbs some of the energy," says Cooper. "So if you
don't know what you're doing, you can damage [the art],
just like you can with a scalpel or a steam cleaner."
Fewer than a dozen companies in Europe do this kind
of work, with the bulk concentrated in the art meccas of
France and Italy. The Liverpool presence stems from the
city's life in centuries past as a premier trading port
that was home to wealthy art collectors. Since its
inception, the Centre has been housed in a converted
brick railway warehouse, a few blocks from the basement
nightclub where the Beatles first performed. Indeed,
everyone in town sounds a bit like the Fab Four.
Centre clients, which include museums,
municipalities, churches, and private collectors, pay
from $1000 to $100 000 for restorations. They come from
all over Europe and America; once Cooper even flew to
Cambodia to do a presentation on laser scanning for
preservation of the temple of Angkor Wat. "We get a
really wide range of projects to work on," he says.
Cooper says his work requires an understanding of
science and art, though not necessarily a degree in
either. "But had I not done the physics," he muses,
"then I wouldn't have gotten involved in lasers or ended
up doing what I'm doing now." Between restorations, he
juggles educational seminars, trains new equipment
operators, solicits work, and raises funds.
For three years now, Cooper has also honed his skills
in modeling, so that some Centre replications can go on
display outdoors while the originals are kept under
glass in museums. The modeling process involves scanning
the detailed three-dimensional shape of a sculpture into
a computer, then cutting a stone replica with a
computer-controlled milling machine. The stored scan
also becomes a digital record.
While the scope of his job provides plenty of
challenges, Cooper says his time is comfortably split
between the lab and the sites, and his low-pressure,
40-hour workweek gives him time to enjoy sports and his
kids. (He and his wife, Jill, just had their third.) For
a science guy surrounded by art, his perpetual smile and
air of relaxed exuberance clearly show the effects of
his unexpected career.
"I wouldn't want to do something that involved 80
hours a week, because, to me, home life and family are
more important," he says. "But this is a lovely
environment to work in. I'm surrounded by nice objects
and travel to interesting places. We're quite spoiled
with these facilities. Very often you find conservation
departments hidden away in basements."
His workspace was recently usurped by chunks of
Liverpool's Lord Nelson monument, which was undergoing a
high-profile spruce-up to commemorate the 200th
anniversary last October of the Battle of Trafalgar. But
Cooper is just as proud of less heralded projects, such
as restoring the St. Christopher statue at nearby Norton
Priory Museums Trust.
"He's the largest medieval figure sculpture in the
country," Cooper says, motioning to a photo of the
statue. "Fantastic piece. Now we're working on
replicating parts of the original and re-creating the
original color on a model to show how he might have been
displayed during medieval times."
Though he's no showman, Cooper enjoys watching public
reactions to his handiwork, especially when people can't
tell the originals from the replicas. "It's quite
satisfying when members of the public don't realize
which part is the restoration," he laughs.
Martin Cooper
Age: 38.
What he does:
Works with lasers and three-dimensional scanners to
restore and replicate priceless artwork.
For whom: The
Conservation Centre of the National Museums Liverpool,
England.
Fun factors:
Makes the world prettier one artifact at a time. Has few
deadlines, an actual 40-hour week that leaves time for
family, varying challenges with each job, and beautiful,
art-filled surroundings.