Irish history is crumbling from the walls of Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin. Pencilled autographs, political slogans, portraits, poems and artwork by former occupants are disappearing due to age and previous exposure to the elements.
When Kilmainham was completed in August 1796, the interior walls were made of brick layered with lime plaster and in some cases horsehair. For two centuries they have been replastered and whitewashed. From 1798 to the Civil War, hundreds of prisoners etched sentiments of war, love, loneliness, injustice and humour into this flaking material.
New inscriptions are still being found every week, but many have been lost. Most of the damage took place when the prison lay open to the elements from its closure in 1924 to the beginning of restoration work in 1960.
The East Wing, film location for In the Name of the Father, was the first area targeted for renovation. Before painting to maintain the walls, the restoration committee recorded some of the cell markings which are no longer visible.
The chairman of the committee, Mr Sean Dowling, noted the inscriptions in Cells 1-17 on the ground floor. Cell 10 had been occupied by Grace Gifford Plunkett, famous for marrying Joseph Plunkett in the prison chapel the night before he was shot. She was a prolific artist, and Mr Dowling recorded one of her works as Dancing Girl. Later it was photographed.
Even ordinary people left their mark. The youngest was a 14-year-old girl imprisoned during the Civil War for bringing messages to the republicans. "Maggie O'Toole, Tomduff, Kiledmond, Borris, Co Carlow," was the message left in Cell 3.
Most of the inscriptions that survive were made by women and girls during the Civil War. From February to September 1923 the entire gaol was occupied by female political prisoners. They were allowed to leave their cells and socialise freely, which perhaps explains the proliferation of material from those months.
A member of the archive staff at the gaol, Ms Niamh O'Sullivan, says: "They're a special link. You read about the women and meet their relatives and then you go into a cell and find the name."
Most signatures were made by political prisoners because, unlike regular prisoners, they wanted people to know they were there, says Ms O'Sullivan.
Despite photographing and documenting the inscriptions, the likely physical loss of autographs is painful to museum staff. "It just hurts to think that the inscriptions will be lost, but we've done all we can and we've just got to accept it," she said.
Some hope was raised in recent months when Duchas, the heritage service, sought assistance from Irish and German specialists. Officials hope new conservation techniques and materials may stop the natural deterioration of the historic markings while they await the specialists' findings.
During the 1980s the Office of Public Works consulted paint and paper conservation specialists to try to save the historic graffiti. The consensus was that the wall material was extremely unstable and attempts to save it would only lead to greater destruction.
The conservators' frustration is that with this type of material "you don't know before it's too late that you've ruined it," says Ms O'Sullivan. Glazings and glass were rejected on the basis that they could cause more damage. Dirt on the walls is also causing complications.
"The big problem is that the wall surface would need to be cleaned, because since the autographs were put on, the walls have become filthy. The question is: how do you clean the wall without removing the markings? The very last thing you do is put on a glaze or a sealant," she says.
The autographs, poems and paintings add a personal dimension to the great emptiness of the museum today. "For us, it's like finding a hidden gift. It's the next best thing to actually meeting them. For them, it had a lot to do with recording what was done to them, but also there's a need to be remembered. We find this type of saying in their personal autograph books, `All I ask is remembrance, and if remembrance proves a task, forget'."
Unless a solution is found to the problem, the notes and mementos left behind will never be seen by grandchildren, great-grandchildren or even great-great-grandchildren as the marks disappear, one flake at a time.