Using and Questioning Archives in Design and Craft History

As historical researchers we often find ourselves navigating archives of varying depth, scope and ultimate ‘usefulness’. Depending on our area of research we may find ourselves immersed in business ledgers, census records, design registers, catalogues, letters, diaries, textile samples or even wired to a desk listening to scratchy oral history recordings. We are likely to go into an archive with a clear idea of what we are hoping to find. Sometimes our theories and assumptions are proven, sometimes we stand corrected. Sometimes we uncover something that sends our research in an unexpected direction, or stops it in its tracks (I wonder how many of us wish we could ‘unsee’ something which contradicts our research?)  However we approach archives, we know there will always be gaps, gaps we can fill with assumptions and guesswork, but gaps nonetheless. So my question is: to what extent do our research interests lead us to an archive or do the archives shape our research interests?

In researching the activities of Henry Rothschild, proprietor of craft outlet Primavera from 1946 until 1980, I found myself thinking about the nature of archives and how we use them. I questioned the motivation behind the archive Rothschild deposited at the Shipley Art Gallery in Gateshead, along with over 300 craft objects. I questioned the gaps of knowledge. I questioned the multiple copies and photocopies of paperwork. I questioned why some of the Primavera exhibitions were better documented than others, and why some of Rothschild’s activities were hardly documented at all. I questioned the gaps.

A good example of this: sometime in the 1960s Rothschild launched Primavera Contracts Ltd. Among other activities, Primavera Contracts provided furnishings for Universities and won a Design Award for their ‘University Blanket’ in 1965. That is all we know – no accounts exist, no company paperwork. Yet this was clearly a significant company in 1960s Britain, shaping the day to day life of a generation of University students.

Had I fallen into the trap that the archive Rothschild kept was somehow complete and any perceived gaps were clearly not important to the narrative, I would have written a very different thesis. The content and shape of the archive would have dictated the content and shape of my thesis, and this would be lazy. So as all of us do I dutifully looked to other archives and collections to corroborate my findings or to fill those gaps. For example, most of the pieces in Rothschild’s collections were without provenance but looking at Lucie Rie’s invoice books, held at the Crafts Study Centre, I was able to match up sale records to pots in the collection.

With regard to archival research, Tanya Harrod comments that ‘biography often tells you less about the biographical subject and more about the appetites and prejudices of the biographer’. There is an assumption here that the source material represents a truth that is then open to interpretation; however all archives have been constructed and often by a number of individuals or organisations, each with their own agendas. It is important to consider in the first instance the motivation for leaving the archive: an individual may recognise his or her own contribution and see the value in letters, invoice books or sketchbooks; an individual may equally just keep everything regardless of its archival value. A person may also decide to have the material properly cared for or that decision may rest with family.

Talking with people who knew Rothschild, and listening to his own voice held in the Craft Lives collection at The British Library, I came to the conclusion early on that these gaps were not part of a conspiracy, or down to a disinterest on his own part, but rather it was just the way he was. Passionate about the crafts, and decidedly less so about paperwork. Reminiscing about Rothschild, the potter Alison Britton told me she remembered on the birth of her baby receiving some flowers off various collectors but that ‘Henry sent a nice letter with some slides that had marmalade all over them’. That there was an archive at all (devoid of marmalade) is likely to be down to Henry’s wife, Pauline, more than his own forward thinking.

The absence of material can be as revealing as what is present but all we can write about with any surety is that which is left. This results in certain moments, certain events becoming prominent in the narrative simply because the supporting material is there. Academic rigour does not allow for us to write at length using assumptions and conjecture; we look for evidence. As some periods of Rothschild’s activity, both retail and exhibition, have been better documented than others therefore they can be discussed in greater detail and at greater length. This results in the view that these were the key moments but that is not necessarily the case.

We must reflect on this archival bias: by acknowledging the limitations of the archive and reflecting on it’s usefulness, we can open up conversation.