By Kit Roberts
Anyone who has walked down Deansgate has passed by the imposing neo-gothic building that looms over the street. The John Rylands Library is hard to miss. With its flying buttresses and gothic arches you would be forgiven for thinking that it is hundreds of years old, but other features such as wrought iron decoration and electric lights offer clues to its true age. In reality the library has just celebrated its 125th birthday after first opening to the public on January 1 1900. It’s strange to think of it only having been open since the 20th century. The library was founded by Enriqueta Rylands as memorial to her husband, Manchester cotton magnate John Rylands. Enriqueta spared no expense in building a library with all the latest mod cons, including what at the time was a state-of-the art air filtration system to protect the precious contents from the Manchester smog. Who says that beauty and functionality have to be mutually exclusive? Technology has advanced quite some distance in the intervening years since the library’s opening. As the library marks its 125th year, The Manchester Evening News ventured into the strange and wonderful world behind the scenes. Looking after such a world-class collection is no easy task. Emily Tan, the library’s exhibitions and public engagement with research manager, guides us on our journey. The new storage section takes climate control to a level only dreamed of by the library’s Victorian designers. It’s not just the stores which have it either, but also the imaging studio, the conservation lab, and the modern reading room. This close control is especially important for any text which is written on parchment. As parchment or vellum is animal skin temperature can cause it to contract, meaning that the pages will visibly bend if there is a sudden change. Imagine how a slice of bacon warps when it’s being fried. One door, then another clicks shut behind us. In the cool, dry, room moveable shelving stretches into the distance. A note at the door warns us of a slightly alarming fire safety feature. Given the precious contents, which include a Gutenberg Bible, a Shakespeare First Folio, original manuscripts from Manchester author Elizabeth Gaskell, and millennia-old papyri, water sprinklers are not an option here. Instead the store uses a gas system to extinguish a fire. This pumps argon into the room, an unreactive gas that would smother the fire without damaging the books. That also means if the fire alarm sounds, it’s a good idea to get out of that room as quickly as you can. Leaving the storage we step into a cool, well-lit laboratory on the top floor. This is where highly-trained conservators work on the hundreds of thousands of objects under their care. In the centre of the room, filled with lab equipment, a large table is covered by a cloth. We are greeted by collection care manager Elisabeth Carr, who explains how the team looks after the multitude of objects in the collections. “It’s a question of what the object needs,” she said. “Our aim is to stabilise the objects physically and chemically. It’s not restoration, it’s conservation – minimal intervention. “We don’t remake the object, ever, it’s against our ethics. Doing that would destroy the history. “You have to love art and science and history and be a little bit of a detective. And be brave!” Conservators need to have a complete understanding of the chemical make-up of the objects they handle so they know what tools and substances they can and can’t use on it. While the science is crucial, it’s clear this is driven by an extraordinary degree of care and love. It can also lead to amazing discoveries. “The tests that we have can tell you a lot about the history of the object,” said Elisabeth. “They can find out who touched something, and if they had a disease.” Elisabeth takes us to the table and pulls back the cloth, revealing the back of an enormous Mappa Mundi, a map of the world, dating from 1546. It’s made up of six sheets of parchment attached together, and covers the entire table. “Every object is a world,” said Elisabeth. If that’s true then this library contains universes. We move on from the lab and head downstairs through a warren of corridors before we emerge into another climate-controlled room containing a collection of strange contraptions. Here we are greeted by imaging manager Jamie Robinson. Photography has been a part of the Rylands since the beginning. An old large format camera still sits on a shelf in the imaging studio, looking down on the state-of-the-art technology. It’s a meeting of the distant past, the recent past, and the future. The tech helps the photographers to render the collections in as high a resolution as possible, and even allows them to create 3D renderings of objects like the cuneiform tablets. Jamie shows us a screen with an image of the same Mappa Mundi we saw laid out in the conservation lab. Before the new studio space and technology, the team had to take some inventive steps to digitise such an enormous object. “We had to have the camera on a balcony to get the whole thing in shot,” he said. Jamie explained that the distance meant that the quality of the image suffered, but they are working on a much better version. “That’s been possible because we’ve been able to move into this studio,” he said, “in the previous one we wouldn’t have been able to get that map in there!” Imaging and conservation are also connected. Jamie explains: “We do all the digitisation of all the collections. Everything we photograph gets put onto our online platforms. They’re open access, they have a creative commons licence but people can can browse and download them.” This means that someone can consult an object digitally if there is not a specific need for them to physically handle it. Perhaps most exciting is a curtained-off area bathed in multi-coloured light. This is used to carry out a form of study called “multi-spectral imaging”. Light from either end of the visible spectrum is shined onto an object which can show where a text has been scrubbed out. Traces of ink or paint not visible to the naked eye remain on the page and reflect light on different wavelengths. A little tweaking on the computer can reveal a whole lost text or illustrations, unlocking secrets from an object’s past even after someone has tried to erase them. The building morphs and shifts around us as we move on into an older section. After opening in 1900 the library had its first extension just 20 years later with the addition of new storage areas and work spaces which are still used by staff. These contain the ethereal “glass stacks” – a tall room with shelving stretching floor to ceiling and a frosted glass floor suspended in the middle. Further extensions were added in the 1960s, and after the demolition of an extension completed in 1969 the most modern section was added in 2007. This hugs the original structure and the 1920s extension and now contains the reading room, conservation lab, imaging studio, and climate-controlled stores. The latest renovations, which were only completed last year as part of a strategy for the library’s future, have also seen changes to the exhibition spaces in the 1900 building, with some of the library’s most precious objects now on display to the public. As we wend our way through the different sections a seemingly innocuous door brings us into the astonishing historic reading room. Bathed in warm light, this room most clearly shows off the church-like appearance. Instead of saints the stained glass depicts artists, poets, composers, and philosophers, and statues of figures including Shakespeare, Milton, and Goethe watch over readers and visitors. It’s a cathedral to knowledge. While it is part of the University of Manchester , anybody can become a reader. Some of the more precious objects need to be signed off, you can’t just walk in and take out a Shakespeare Folio. Nonetheless it’s clear great efforts are taken to keep the collections as open as possible while balancing access with keeping them safe. Dominic Marsh is the library’s curatorial practices services manager, and shared what the Rylands means to him. “As someone who’s from Manchester it represents something that’s world class,” he said. “It compares to institutions around the world. “I’ve always wanted to work here. It doesn’t feel like forgotten place – it feels like it’s important culturally.” The building is a labyrinth of corridors and stairs, with the whitewashed modern corridors giving way to the glass of the 1920s, and finally the stone of the 1900 building. In the historic reading room spiral staircases closed to the public lead up to the first floor balcony, lined by shelves including a sun-drenched alcove nestled beneath a window. Emily explains: “There are architectural features like the metalwork which are more art nouveau.” At a small opening on the balcony Emily unlocks a waist-high wrought iron gate, and we emerge onto a circular balcony overlooking the grand staircase. It’s a dizzying, phenomenal space. We peek out through the window and watch Deansgate bustling by just a few metres away. We might as well be looking out at another world.