It turns out that Purcell is a wonderful writer, too, and this book, about her years excavating the extraordinary accumulation of objects collected by William Buckminster, is tailor-made to delight me. How things lose definition as they decay, how they transform. What kind of person amasses this kind of collection. What is useful, what is beautiful. What’s trash. What’s valuable. Who decides.
I did some searching, and discovered that crowleycrow is also a Purcell admirer, and is writing (or maybe he’s finished it by now?) an essay about her work. Not sure where it will appear, but I’ll be tracking it down too.