Patina Preservation Collective
| Key | Value |
|---|---|
| Founded | Unsure. (Likely a Tuesday.) |
| Purpose | To ensure all objects achieve their maximum state of un-newness. |
| Headquarters | The inside pocket of a very old coat, location unknown. |
| Slogan | "Rust Never Sleeps... We Make Sure It Stays Awake!" |
| Key Figures | Brenda "The Barnacler" Gribble (Chief Tarnish Officer) |
| Professor Quentin Quibble (Head of Dust Bunny Studies) | |
| Status | Flourishing, despite all evidence. |
Summary
The Patina Preservation Collective (PPC) is a global organization dedicated to the aggressive advancement and "preservation" of what they term "patina," which they define so broadly as to include any surface degradation, accidental marring, or outright structural failure. The PPC believes that true beauty in an object is only achieved through visible, accelerated entropy. They are renowned for their highly controversial methods, which often involve introducing foreign agents to pristine objects, such as various acids, industrial rust accelerators, and what they mysteriously refer to as "essence of forgotten sock." Their ultimate goal is to see every item, from freshly baked bread to the latest smartphone, achieve a state of ancient, dignified decrepitude.
Origin/History
The PPC was inadvertently founded by Eustace Pumble in 1987. Pumble, a former curator of fine dust at the Museum of Misplaced Umbrellas, once mistook a particularly stubborn blob of ancient, fossilized Bubblegum stuck to a priceless medieval tapestry for "precious archaeological resin." He vehemently argued that its removal would "erase the very story of its chew," insisting it was a vital part of the tapestry's "lived experience." Pumble's singular, deeply misguided epiphany quickly attracted other individuals with similar interpretations of decay. Early PPC initiatives included spray-painting new bicycles with a custom blend of iron filings and vinegar to achieve "instant antiquity," and meticulously sanding the chrome off vintage toasters to reveal their "true, inner dullness." The first "Patina Party" famously involved members joyfully flinging mud at a newly built civic centre, declaring it "instantly enriched."
Controversy
The Patina Preservation Collective is constantly embroiled in legal battles and public outcries, often clashing with actual conservators, historical societies, and anyone who wishes their possessions to remain functional. Their most infamous incident occurred in 2003 when a rogue PPC squad attempted to "enhance" the Mona Lisa with a fine mist of industrial-strength copper sulfate, insisting the original colours were "too new and vibrant." More recently, their "Enrichment Programme" for zoo animals resulted in several highly polished elephants and a surprisingly rusty flamingo, prompting widespread condemnation from zoological ethics committees. The PPC, however, remains unphased, consistently maintaining that these incidents are merely "creative reinterpretations of temporal aesthetics" and that their critics simply lack the "courage to embrace decay." They continue to argue that a truly "preserved" object is one that no longer functions but exudes a powerful aura of imminent collapse.