In recent years research and scholarship on limestone as a building material and its use in creating sculpture and decorative elements have taken a quantum leap with large-scale conservation, restoration, and scientific investigations of monuments in Europe. Working in Limestone: The Science, Technology and Art of Medieval Limestone Monuments, edited by Vibeke Olson, is an up-to-date study of medieval monuments and sculpture that focuses primarily on scientific studies in Northern France, England, and Ireland. In twelve papers by specialists, art history and the history of technology are integrated into a comprehensive overview that represents the fruits of sessions sponsored by the Association Villard de Honnecourt for the Interdisciplinary Study of Medieval Technology, Science and Art (AVISTA) at Medieval Congresses in Kalamazoo, Michigan, and in Leeds, England.

Two general overarching themes make Working in Limestone a useful and timely publication. The first combines geology, conservation, and neutron activation analysis, while the second looks at the technology and art of limestone from the perspective of industry, labor, and design. In both cases, science becomes a key building block for the investigation of artworks. These topics may, at first, appear to be esoteric and addressed primarily to specialists in each of these areas, but they nonetheless provide an excellent understanding of and introduction to the marvels of the great medieval monuments that populated Romanesque and Gothic Europe, and they do so quite literally from the ground up. These essays are not about the spirit and theory that drove the building and sculpture boom, but the practical issues of limestone and its many uses, from quarry to monument. Working in Limestone also attempts to reconnect decorative elements to their source after they ended up in collections and museums without documented provenances.

The ambitious conservation projects of the last two generations have captured new audiences, garnered media attention, and stirred debates; as a result, they have given scholars and tourists alike a vastly different appreciation of the cathedrals of Chartres, Amiens, or Dublin. For the medieval art historian, standardization of carving forms and serial production are critical to understanding artistic creations and the role of supply and demand. When two sculptures or decorative elements look identical, it is not so much a question of model and copy, which implies a modernist view of artistic genius where there is no middle ground; rather, it is one of production practicality, expediency, and economy.

Working in Limestone begins with a discussion of neutron activation analysis and how this method of fingerprinting limestone aids in determining origin, not only of the quarry source—often hard to pinpoint—but of the monument into which the material incorporated as well as the sculptures that were eventually orphaned by being detached and relocated to museums and collections with little trace of their lost parentage. This reintegration and contextualization is accomplished by statistical analysis of the chemical compositions, a necessary procedure, but one not typically within the expertise of most medieval art historians. To have Working in Limestone start with a brilliant and sophisticated statistical approach may cause the art historian to hesitate, especially when wading through the detailed explanation of Discriminant analysis. Patience pays off, however, when it can be demonstrated that a key monument such as Notre Dame de Paris primarily utilized limestone from the quarries at Charenton. A demonstration of this methodology follows intelligently in Georgia Wright’s study of orphan heads associated with Jumièges (Duclair) and Saint-Jacques-aux-Pèlerins where she utilizes statistical gymnastics to reveal some of the mystery of these fine carvings. At the same time, a healthy dose of caution is exercised. (Much of this is also available on the web at www.limestonesculptureanalysis.com.) The great frieze at Lincoln also is treated from a stone and conservation point of view that offers a potentially new and earlier date for the celebrated façade frieze—not the 1140s, but around 1090. Yet here the science of the stone conflicted with the archaeology of the site without providing a more definitive answer.

Three interrelated essays identifying the stones used in Paris basin churches and the diffusions of these stones for decorative carvings open a fresh view of how the great buildings and their related sculptures were realized. Likewise the variety of stone sources used for the building complex at Saint-Denis from the Carolingian period onward indicate that the great age of construction used mainly the excellent stone from sources such as Carrières-sur-Seine and, later, Charenton-le-Pont, both along the banks of the Seine. The life of stone as a building and decorative material is very much part of an appreciation of Europe’s great monuments. Today many of these key monuments are brilliantly clean structures—perhaps too clean—and a far cry from Mark Twain’s complaint in 1869 that Notre Dame de Paris was just “the brown old gothic pile”! A discussion of the conservation and treatment methods employed is thus included in Working in Limestone, not necessarily in order to add to art-historical knowledge, but as a very real issue of how people respond to sculpture and buildings aesthetically. It is also an integral part of their ongoing preservation. Throughout this volume the question of antique stone and how it is recycled is often addressed. Walter Berry looks closely at Autun and its ancient roots to see the ways in which the Roman past enlivens the medieval campaigns and ennobles them, both in the use of ancient recycled marble and in limestone imitations of earlier forms, along with the more restricted ways in which the meaning of the material or simple economic factors dictated change.

One of the defining features of the first Gothic cathedrals was the column figures gracing the entryways. Janet Snyder focuses her inquiry into the transportation of these imposing figures whose stone originated in Parisian quarries—liais de Paris—and were distributed to various sites via water and land routes. Standardization of figure size and type, even dress, suggest some centralization of production at the quarry—which reduces weight and thus cost—while final finishing was done at the building site. This realization has significant implications for production, transport, and the procedure of erecting sculpture on a portal. A modular approach is suggested for some figures because they appear to be similar, albeit installed at different sites. Utilizing building accounts at Troyes reveals that the masons were preparing materials at the quarry. Other major projects such as Prague cathedral under the Parler show similar efforts at economy and standardization of materials. The detailed building account books for the cathedral from 1372–1378 yield important insights into the construction process from quarry to monument. Here it can be shown that transporting stone made up nearly all of its total cost (Marek Suchý, Solutio Hebdomadaria Pro Structura Templi Pragensis. Stavba svatovítské katedrály v letech 1372–1378 Díl.I., Prague: Archeologický ústav AV ČR, 2003). Applying this data to the over-life-size column figures of the French cathedrals admired so greatly today shows that the greatest expense was probably for physically moving the stone to site rather than for paying the mason to carve the column figures.

In a similar vein, Olson looks at the ways that the major churches utilized what today are standard operating procedures for any building enterprise, but back then were groundbreaking. These include prefabrication, standardization, mass production, and an assembly-line approach. Such application allowed for a rapid construction process. The evidence is in the stone itself and its various states of completion. Furthermore, carefully measuring the building material and sculptural components compellingly demonstrates this production method. One might think it would take away the mystery and creativeness of these great monuments, but it actually makes one realize the concision and practicality from design to reality. Both Chartres and Vézelay show a similar modus operandi and allow Olson to demonstrate this method as widespread. (See now, L’art multiplié, production de masse, en série, pour le marché dans les arts entre Moyen Age et Renaissance, sous la direction de Michele Tomasi, avec le collaboration de Sabine Utz [Études lausannoises d’histoire de l’art, 11], Rome: Viella, 2011.)

The date of even the most basic structures examined in this volume varies greatly. The oratory of Galway is not early Irish—as long supposed—but, as pointed out by Roger Stalley, a fine example of a long tradition of dry stone construction of Romanesque Ireland. Many of the Romanesque and Gothic Irish structures utilized imported stone from Bristol and Caen.

Weaving together the diverse threads of architectural design, the stone industry, sculpture, and freemasonry—along with their corresponding stages of mastery—Nigel Hiscock concludes the collection with a wide-ranging overview of issues of discipline and freedom of stone shaping at the end of the Middle Ages, primarily in eastern European monuments. The essay is more about a playful look at the architecture of fantasy and the energy of rib vaulting systems than linking together the various studies presented.

While Working in Limestone contains 135 serviceable illustrations, they are diminished by paper quality and printing that hinders their potential to convey the visual superiority of the architecture and sculpture under discussion. The resolution of the graphs and charts works much better. The volume makes a fine contribution to an area of investigation that has long been neglected or addressed only to specialists, but which is becoming both welcome and useful to a wider audience.