Behind the Scenes at the Met: Arms & Armor Conservation Studio

Last month, I had the extraordinary opportunity to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Arms and Armor Conservation Studios in New York City. This is a part of the museum rarely seen by the public, where historical objects are preserved, restored, and mounts are fabricated and prepared for display using both traditional craftsmanship and modern conservation techniques.

The tour was organized by my friend Laila Lott, who is a jeweler and also a mount maker for the museum. I met Laila through her participation in organizing for Many Lands Mutual Aid in Gaza - Laila helps to manage their instagram account and runs comms - she's also just a super sweet person, I'm glad we finally got to meet IRL. I also got to meet Caroline Harrison, an artist and illustrator I also met through IG: she is an incredible talent, and you might recognize her work from the iconic album art she makes. Clockwise from left on the first photo is Laila, then Caroline, and me in the back halls of the Met as we waited for the tour to begin.




Our guides were Ted Hunter, the department’s Lead Armorer and Conservator, and Sean Belair, Associate Conservator. I’ve followed Sean’s work online for a while, so it was exciting to hear him speak in person. Both Ted and Sean shared their deep knowledge and clear passion for the work they do. It was obvious that they hold a profound respect for the objects in their care and the historical traditions behind them.

The Arms and Armor studio is one of the oldest conservation spaces in the Met. It has remained largely unchanged for decades, in part because the machinery is too large and too integral to move, but also because the space itself holds a kind of lived-in history. Every corner felt like a quiet archive of past work. In one window, I spotted a fallen box of Sharpie pens behind a shelving unit, sitting beside a beautifully forged reproduction of a medieval axe head. The accidental and the intentional seemed to coexist everywhere. (Visible below far left.)

Every jeweler will recognize this scene: just some sundry hazardous liquids.

At the back of the space was a long line of workstations, including a tool bench that held an impressive collection of historical hammers, stakes, shears, and pliers. Many of these tools were donated specifically for use in historical reproductions, preserving not just the objects but also the methods. I was invited to hold one of the larger stakes, which weighed over 30 pounds and was shaped like a T. It took real concentration not to drop it on my foot.

We were also shown the forge and fabrication areas, where bending, soldering, milling, and shaping take place. The highlight for me was seeing the largest anvil I have ever encountered, mounted to an enormous block of ancient hardwood. Both were in perfect condition, clearly cared for and used with intention. These are the kinds of materials that you simply cannot find outside of a museum or legacy workshop.

One of the final moments of the tour was watching Ted work on a 17th-century Japanese kabuto, or helmet, shaped like a seashell and covered in silver inlay. The silver had oxidized so heavily that the designs were nearly invisible. With a small swab and just a bit of alcohol, Ted gently began lifting the tarnish to reveal the fine jellyfish-like patterns underneath. The helmet was covered in these inlays, so it was clear that the restoration would be painstaking. Watching him work felt like witnessing something very special that only few get to see in action.

The tour lasted around two hours, and I asked probably too many questions—but here’s one final fun fact I can’t resist sharing: according to Ted, even in the Middle Ages, chainmail was often repurposed to scrub pots and pans. Apparently, many more historical mail pieces would still exist today if they hadn’t been so good at cleaning cookware. You truly can’t make this stuff up.

Visiting the Met's conservation studio was a deeply meaningful experience. As someone who works with metal and has a lifelong reverence for historical craft, being welcomed into this space was both humbling and inspiring. 

I’m truly grateful for the opportunity to have been there. Thank you to Laila for organizing the tour, and to Ted, Sean, and the entire Arms and Armor studio team for sharing their time, knowledge, and workspace. It was a rare privilege, and I will carry the inspiration with me in my own work for a long time to come.