Read the passage and answer the questions that follow.
1Visitors to a gallery seldom pause to consider that the painting in front of them is not quite the object its maker finished. Varnishes yellow, some pigments fade while others darken, canvases are relined, and losses are filled and retouched. Even the frame may be a later substitution, chosen by a dealer or a museum to suit a passing fashion rather than the picture. An old painting on a museum wall is, to a greater or lesser degree, a collaboration between the artist and several generations of custodians, most of whose names were never recorded.
2For much of the nineteenth century, restorers understood their task as returning a work to what they imagined its original splendour to have been, and they did not hesitate to take up the brush. Damaged faces were reconstructed, worn backgrounds repainted, and on occasion whole figures were added or painted out to suit the taste of the day. The results often said more about the restorer's century than about the artist's.
3The modern profession of conservation defined itself in opposition to this practice. Its guiding principles are minimal intervention, reversibility and documentation: do no more than is necessary, add nothing that cannot later be removed without harm to the original, and record every step. Retouching is confined to areas of actual loss, and in some traditions it is deliberately made distinguishable on close inspection, applied in fine parallel strokes, for instance, so that a viewer who looks carefully can tell original paint from repair.
4These principles are sounder than the ones they replaced, but they are less neutral than they sound. The decision to remove a discoloured varnish presupposes a judgement about how the painting is meant to look, and that judgement cannot be made without some theory of what the artist intended, a theory that is itself the product of a particular moment in scholarship. Several cleaning campaigns of the twentieth century provoked bitter disputes for exactly this reason: critics argued that certain painters had laid a final, warm-toned glaze over their colours, and that cleaning had stripped it away together with the grime. Reversibility, too, is partly an aspiration. Solvents that dissolve old varnish can disturb the paint beneath, and the act of removal is the one step in the process that can never be undone.
5What follows is not that conservators should stop intervening. Neglect is also a decision, and a painting left to flake and darken suffers consequences of its own. The point is rather that the profession's language of restraint should not be mistaken for an absence of interpretation. A conserved painting remains an interpreted painting. The honest course is to make the interpretation visible, recording what was done and why, and to accept that later generations, knowing things that we do not, may judge those choices differently.