Shelby Welte-Scheller
Friday, October 16 - 10:30AM to 11:00AM
Hopkins 246
Archives often begin with momentum. There is excitement in opening forgotten boxes, discovering unfamiliar photographs, and assembling fragmented histories. Every folder holds the possibility of revelation, every object another clue. The work feels investigative, driven by curiosity and the promise of uncovering something previously unknown. Yet long-term archival practice inevitably changes. As discoveries become less frequent, the labor of cataloging, preserving, and revisiting familiar materials begins to outweigh the initial thrill of uncovering them. The archive remains, but its momentum shifts.
Drawing from both my inherited family archive and my work in Collections Care at the University of Iowa Libraries, this presentation explores what sustains an artistic practice after the initial force of discovery has diminished through the lens of the family archive. Rather than asking how archives generate momentum, I ask how artists continue moving when repetition, doubt, and responsibility replace novelty. What happens when the work of cataloging, preserving, and storing becomes larger than the act of uncovering? How do we continue returning to the same photographs when they no longer offer new surprises?
Working in conservation has made me acutely aware of the fragility of material culture. Water damage, acidic paper, fading photographs, and improper storage all threaten the survival of objects over time. Institutional preservation often assumes that these materials are inherently worth saving. Returning to my own family archive, however, raises a more uncertain question: why preserve something whose future value cannot be guaranteed? There are days I wonder whether the boxes and binders I have painstakingly organized will one day be discarded by my children or grandchildren, becoming just another inherited burden rather than a treasured collection.
Rather than halting the work, this uncertainty has reshaped it. Through photography, handmade paper, and book arts, I have come to realize that momentum in archival practice is not sustained by continual revelation but by relentless attention. The archive itself changes very little. The photographs remain largely the same. Instead, the artist changes. Grief alters what I notice. Technical growth expands how I respond. Years of repeated encounters with familiar images transform the questions I ask and the relationships I build with the materials. New work emerges not because the archive continues to surprise me, but because I return to it as a different person.
This presentation reflects on momentum as persistence rather than acceleration. It considers how long-term artistic practice is sustained not through constant inspiration, but through the willingness to remain with difficult, familiar, and unresolved material. Momentum becomes less about moving quickly toward an outcome than about allowing a project to mature alongside the artist making it. By revisiting the same photographs over years, I argue that the greatest movement is not found within the archive itself, but within the evolving perspective of the person entrusted with its care.
Ultimately, my presentation asks whether the lasting value of archival work lies not only in what it preserves, but in what it makes possible. Even if the future of an archive remains uncertain, the sustained act of caring for it transforms the artist who returns to it. Momentum, then, is found not in perpetual discovery, but in the quiet accumulation of attention, responsibility, and the evolving ways we choose to carry the past forward.
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