National Museum Takes on Screen Restoration with Tennis: Is Gold Leaf Volley Art or Error?

The National Museum has adopted an unprecedented 'tennis rally method' to restore aging folding screens. Experts warn that both cultural properties and sports are on the verge of a double fault as conservators volley gold leaf with rackets.

2025-06-30

Translations: JA

Culture Kaleidoscope

The National Museum has adopted an unprecedented ’tennis rally method’ to restore aging folding screens. Experts warn that both cultural properties and sports are on the verge of a double fault as conservators volley gold leaf with rackets.

At first glance, the serene exhibition hall appears to have transformed into Wimbledon’s Centre Court. Conservators in full white coats stand at the service line, serving 2-centimeter gold leaf pieces before anyone can call them “balls.” Instead of “Quiet Please” signs, the floor gleams with “Silent Rally in Progress - No Faults” placards, and spectators hold their applause not in breathless anticipation but expecting a champion seed’s love game.

Here’s how it works: The gold leaf is lightly moistened and placed on a specialized racket with nano-scale roughness, then drop-shot to the screen surface. Once it adheres to the adhesive layer, the partner immediately lobs it back to the reverse side, knocking off dust while evening the entire surface—or so goes the script, with average rallies reaching thirty-some exchanges. Academically christened the “Compound Vibrational Impact Compression Method,” staff are confounded by the “can’t leave until it sticks” policy.

The temperature gap between the art and sports worlds rivals melting points. A former World Tennis commentator critiques “weak backhand faces,” while the Cultural Properties Society counters with “don’t hit it at all.” The International Tennis Federation proposes “installing umpire chairs and challenge systems,” while UNESCO silently prepares red cards. Racket manufacturers quickly signed sponsorship deals, announcing the “world’s first silver ion-infused restoration strings.”

Technical challenges pile high. High-speed cameras measure racket surface vibration acceleration at 7.4 times the gold leaf fatigue limit. A research assistant strong in frequency analysis boasts, “The peak Q value at impact is lower than a hichiriki flute, so it’s safe,” but the chemistry department coolly counters, “Microcracks in the lacquer layer mean match forfeit.” Furthermore, the discovery that CO2 exhaled through athletic breathing could activate microbial activity behind the screens prompted an emergency switch to “stadium mode” air conditioning with stricter humidity control.

Still, the push for implementation came from “visitor participation” revenue generation. Spectators pay a “special seat charge” separate from admission, cheering with silent pendulum clappers instead of voices. When points are scored, gold leaf confetti rains from the ceiling, and social media erupts with tags like “#ArtIsTiebreak” and “#JapaneseArtWithRackets.” Museum gift shops sell out daily of good luck charms containing gut fragments, and curators can’t hide their joy at cultural preservation funds being covered by “rally charges.”

However, the final score remains blank. On day three of trial operations, a service ace hit the screen frame directly, causing a slight crack at the corner from stress concentration. The safety guidelines, revised to prohibit “ceiling serves,” are now in their fifth edition. While conservators philosophize that “art’s crisis is most beautiful at match point,” taxpayers don’t want overtime. Next week’s outlook includes downsizing to “singles” with relaxed rules for hand-passing gold leaf.

The original goal was to “convey the live feeling of cultural properties to international visitors.” But what actually came across was a live durability test broadcast of whether Japanese art can withstand unexpected topspin. After the season ends, will the screen shine brighter, or will the scoreboard read “forfeit”? The crossover of art and sports continues to bask in the Centre Court spotlight for a while longer.

Stakeholder Comments

Conservator A: “To forehand or to backhand, that is the question.”
Conservator B: “Every time I swing the racket, I feel ancestral souls smashing down.”
International Tennis Federation Umpire Chair: “I have height but no authority.”
Museum Curator: “Exhibition panels have become match updates.”
Gold Leaf Piece (personified): “I’d prefer not to go out of bounds.”
Butterfly Pattern on Screen: “I didn’t plan to flutter but got blown away by wind pressure.”
Racket Manufacturer PR: “Cultural properties also depend on string tension.”
Spectator (Tennis Beginner): “The net wasn’t on smartphones but stretched across the screen.”
Conservation Scientist: “Please don’t equate adhesive force with ranking points.”
Museum Air Conditioner: “Today again, I’m breathing in frame shot winds.”