Of all the chemical combinations that occur in a person when they stand before a work of art, there is one that, perhaps, on few occasions, that viewer feels. It is the emotional process that a museum director, a curator, an exhibition or conservation coordinator has had to overcome to combine the desirable with the plausible. That is to say, to reach that internal consensus by which professionals will assume that the work that was going to close the narrative of an exhibition remains there, on the list of aspirations. It is at that moment when science prevails over some passions (including political ones) because the piece, for dozens of reasons, will not occupy the space on that wall. “It is important for the public to understand that a painting is not simply requested, rolled up, put in a box, and shipped,” states Estrella de Diego, art historian and curator. “Before presenting the final list, the curator must be clear about what is probable, what is impossible, and what, being a difficult loan, can be attempted to be requested.”
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The transfer of artworks has become a matter of state in recent weeks following a new request from the Basque Government for Picasso’s Guernica to travel from Madrid to Bilbao. In recent days, black and white images of all the transits this painting has made have been unearthed from the archives; and in many of them, a group of workers can be seen rolling up the canvas after it was removed from its stretcher. The process of moving a cultural asset is far from the summary offered by this snapshot that occupies a fixed space in the popular imagination. Over the years, technology has sophisticated a process that Reyes Carrasco, general coordinator of Conservation at the Prado Museum, has been doing for more than 30 years in different institutions and which has a very specific name: “From nail to nail.” This metaphor not only encompasses the technicality by which a work is secured, but also all the operations carried out from the moment an operator touches a piece at its original location until it returns to that place.

“Nothing is left to chance: from the first call, which is usually a conversation between directors, until the moment the work returns to its origin, everything is regulated by very precise technical, administrative, and scientific procedures,” explains Carrasco. In the case of public institutions, such as the Prado, this work is subject to state oversight through, for example, public tenders to select transport companies.
“First, a formal letter is sent to the other institution indicating which work is requested, for which dates, and into which exhibition project it will be integrated,” Carrasco continues. From that moment, a mechanism is activated that involves almost an entire institution because such meticulous details come into play as whether the place reserved for a piece is near an entrance. “There is a fundamental document,” the expert points out, “the so-called facility report, a report that describes in detail the building and the room where the work will be exhibited, from access and routes to security and conservation measures. Not all rooms or all museums are the same, and before accepting a loan, it must be verified that the environment is adequate.” This means, for example, that a constant temperature of about 22 degrees must be guaranteed.

These reports are confidential because they also include the specific rules for each piece. “It is not the same to transfer a painting on canvas as a sculpture, an ancient coin, or an object made of organic materials such as wood or feathers,” adds Carrasco. “The artwork is a living being, and just like us, it is affected by changes in pressure and disturbances,” notes De Diego. The passage of time and the materials with which the works were made are also included in these documents. A Veronese painting that might be the same size as Guernica will not travel in the same way. Ancient masters worked with high-quality pigments; centuries later, the lapis lazuli that came from the Afghanistan region, whose value exceeded that of gold, or natural earths, such as ochres, which are extraordinarily stable, are still preserved. Meanwhile, the urgency with which Picasso painted forever determined the state of his canvas, which he completed in little more than a month, on which he made multiple changes and superimposed layers without always respecting drying times.
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Throughout this entire process, there is constant negotiation between institutions that can extend until the moment a box is opened at the destination and the lender is not entirely convinced of the chosen location. In between, the highest bodies of the museums, their boards of trustees, must also give their approval. “Most of our loans are usually international, so we also have to request export permits from the Qualification Board, an agency of the Ministry of Culture, which also has the power to grant or deny a loan,” explain officials from the Thyssen Museum. “The objective of our collection is its dissemination, so that the whole world can enjoy it, but if, for example, we wanted to take half of the museum’s collection to another country, the Board could argue that it is an excessive number of pieces to be transferred due to it being a massive temporary export or due to the importance and fragility of a piece.”
Once the loan is approved, one of the moments that all the consulted experts consider key arrives: packaging. The artworks travel in boxes specifically designed for them, generally made of wood, with cushioning systems that absorb shocks and vibrations. “In the case of particularly delicate pieces, climatic boxes are used, which maintain stable humidity and temperature thanks to technical materials such as absorbent gels. The packaging adapts not only to the artwork, but also to the duration and type of journey,” Carrasco details.
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“I remember that on one occasion we exhibited a wonderful piece by Brancusi,” explains Lucia Agirre, curator of the Guggenheim Bilbao, “it was a marble that came from the Philadelphia Museum in a spectacular box because another box floated inside.” That system, says the expert, was devised by a group of engineers. This type of advancement has allowed, for example, the Rothko piece that this museum lent to Florence not to arrive rolled up as the artist himself did in a transfer he organized on his own from his studio to an institution in Chicago. “It wouldn’t even cross our minds; over the years, the advancements have been impressive.”
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The boxes usually travel in climate-controlled trucks, equipped with environmental control systems, with specific security. When traveling by air, they are in the cargo hold of commercial airplanes. The exception is usually always by ship. “Throughout the entire journey, the artwork is accompanied by a courier, a museum technician who does not separate from it,” says Carrasco. “Their function is to supervise every step, control the travel conditions, and react to any incident. On long journeys, they can spend entire days following the cargo, crossing borders, sleeping near the truck, or traveling in the same means of transport as the artwork.”
The head of the Prado recalls the trip she made to London accompanying Raphael’s works that were to be exhibited at the National Gallery in the British capital. She sat in the truck cabin alongside the driver and a team of museum specialists and began a journey in which she had to stop at facilities of the Spanish security forces, responsible for guarding the vehicles each night. In the case of airplanes, couriers handle the entire process with the artwork until they take their seat. From the cabin or in the boarding areas, it is likely that any passenger may have seen the large metal boxes, usually no more than 160 centimeters, circulating on the runways. On these pallets, alongside other types of goods, with their own security measures, great masterpieces also travel.

When the artwork arrives at its destination, it is meticulously re-examined and compared with the initial report. “Only when it is confirmed that everything is correct is unpacking and installation in the room authorized,” notes Carrasco. Another delicate moment. “In the case of the Thyssen, when monumental works arrive, transport companies have to ask the city council for permission to use bus lanes,” say officials from the Madrid museum. “This usually happens when there is almost no traffic, meaning these pieces enter through the main door in the early hours of the morning, when the city is quiet, so as not to obstruct traffic.”
Most of the consulted museums have their own loading docks and teams, the brigades, responsible for moving the pieces. Logistics have advanced in the same way that the boxes in which cultural assets are stored change to ensure that the most ornate frame is not damaged or that the thousands of coins from the Mercedes treasure that Carrasco had to receive and classify arrived in the best possible condition after centuries at the bottom of the sea.

Museum experts, Agirre recalls, not only dedicate their conferences to discussing the future of these institutions, but also debate how to ensure that art continues to be disseminated around the world. “Moving an artwork is not just moving an object: it is safeguarding a part of cultural heritage,” summarizes the Prado expert. “Therefore, even if a loan request is negative, what is important in any process involving the movement of artworks is the maximum safety and comfort of the pieces. The rest is irrelevant. We will have to keep thinking about the direction to give the project. These are the rules of heritage protection,” adds De Diego.
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