Patch Work

I have been reading Claire Wilcox’s Patch Work which has been written about as if it is only about her work as a curator at the V&A, handling old clothes in museum stores, but it is about far more and is only incidentally informed by her feel for fabric – at least as much by a very strong visual memory and a sense of the poetry of insignificance, each recollection written as a short and very intense linguistic meditation. She anonymises her memory of ‘The Keeper’ who was presumably the late Santina Levy, brisk and efficient like a house mistress jangling the keys to the stores and instructing lost visitors where to go. There’s a particularly good chapter on moths. But it’s all good.


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