HOBBYIST, COLLECTOR, CONNOISSEUR?

“One of the main things Marx noticed about capitalism, is that it really encourages people to have relationships with things instead of with other people.” (Having and Being Had, by Eula Biss)

“There are people like Senhor José everywhere, who fill their time, or what they believe to be their spare time, by collecting stamps, coins, medals, vases, postcards, matchboxes, books, clocks, sport shirts, autographs, stones, clay figurines, empty beverage cans, little angels, cacti, opera programmes, lighters, pens, owls, music boxes, bottles, bonsai trees, paintings, mugs, pipes, glass obelisks, ceramic ducks, old toys, carnival masks, and they probably do so out of something that we might call metaphysical angst, perhaps because they cannot bear the idea of chaos being the one ruler of the universe, which is why, using their limited powers and with no divine help, they attempt to impose some order on the world, and for a short while they manage it, but only as long as they are there to defend their collection, because when the day comes when it must be dispersed, and that day always comes, either with their death or when the collector grows weary, everything goes back to its beginnings, everything returns to chaos.”
All the Names, by Jose Saramago

On that bleak note, let me ask the question, why do we collect and what is the difference between hoarding and collecting? The only book I have ever read on the subject of hoarding – Stuff, Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things, by Randy O. Frost and Gail Steketee – is a book I will no longer own when and if I ever get rid of most of my books. Hoarding, I have observed, is a phenomenon which results in an inability to get rid of things no matter how trivial; collecting is assembling a judiciously curated assortment of objects you take pleasure in.  The difference between the two also means you know where everything is, and you have sufficient space in your living and sleeping areas and can see countertops (if they’re not covered with a judiciously curated assortment as mentioned above).

There are numerous reasons why people collect. Personality disorders aside, my favorite theories are the “Senhor José” hypothesis, that the urge to collect is a way to improve on what we can control, and Marx’s view on possessions and disengagement. You can take that idea further and say that the decline of basic civility in everyday life leads, in an oblique way, to escapism. Collecting is a refuge from the surreal and profane world which has become our day to day reality. As societal alienation increases and the disparity between classes becomes more evident, people retreat into the safety of their homes and involve themselves with their hobbies. Collecting serves as a tonic to ward off deplorable behavior; people want to surround and soothe themselves with comforting beauty in order to fend off the philistinism of our age. Our increasing solitude and detachment from society works toward this end as well, as we retreat into our homes surrounded by our possessions.

Some psychologists believe that collecting is a way of imposing order on their world, that people with abandonment issues or feeling they have a lack of control over their lives frequently turn to collecting as a way to assuage their misgivings or unease. This may or not be true, but collecting certainly has to do with control. Although collecting tastes are as starkly different as the contrast between watching Antonioni’s l’Aventurra one night and Meirelles and Lund’s City of God the next, you most certainly reveal yourself and your life through your collections.

The urge to collect has been around since the dawn of time, in genteel and uncouth societies and all groups in between. The collection of objects, beautiful or interesting to the eye of the beholder, provides a sense of permanence even as much of current popular taste is molded by Tiktok and Instagram fiat. I collect simply because I like to be surrounded by things I think are attractive and uncommon — things I have chosen, things which weren’t too costly, things which represent my taste and interests. Collecting on a budget has always been my modus operandi.

It can take years to overcome the influence of your own family’s taste, lifestyle, and opinions. Growing up in an architecturally depressed environment with only strip malls as an example of building style must surely negatively affect your psyche. Alain De Botton in his The Architecture of Happiness writes succinctly about the harmful effects of such deprivation. Growing up without any cultural encouragement or stimulation is also crushing. The more deprived a childhood in terms of beauty and art, the greater the need for exposure and stimulation to expand their consciousness. Sometimes it only takes one interested person, exposure to a museum, or music to provide the spark that allows a person to glimpse other opportunities. Your taste evolves over time as you seek to expose yourself to a different aesthetic, and it is done through reading, travel, art, music, and various social experiences. Collectors, no matter their background, are everywhere and they collect everything.

My mother, an avid collector, started me out on my first collection when I was a child in 1952 — Royal Copenhagen Christmas plates. You might think eight would be too young to start a child on the collecting path, but my mother was not of that opinion. I’m not crazy about the plates, but I use them every year for Christmas Eve dinner desserts. Other less fortunate collections have been re-gifted to Goodwill or sold at intermittent yard sales over the years. Over a lifetime, you tire of certain objects and become interested in new things. I’ve gone through various collections — mid-century plates and bowls, unusual pillows, brass and pewter candlesticks, decorated eggs, Asian, Russian, and Italian boxes, baskets, kooky vases, etc. — but it wasn’t until I stopped working twenty-three years ago that I really caught the collecting bug.  By that time, my taste had changed dramatically, and I zeroed in on ethnic art, American folk art, photography, a few unique pieces of furniture, kilims, and so on.

Many of us have accumulated vast amounts of paper, books, artifacts, and art requiring wall space which we can never properly display after we engage in that phenomenon known as downsizing.  I’m not a downsizer by nature, but I also can’t stand clutter.  I like to have my favorite things around me – they give me comfort and a sense of security – but I also have a sense of dread if the house becomes too messy. Getting rid of comfort and a sense of security is a difficult task which is why so many of us procrastinate and finally put off the prospect of downsizing, leaving it to our unfortunate children or others to deal with that task. We all know that, in the words of Betty Davis, aging isn’t for sissies, but it is truly painful to go through a lifetime of acquired possessions and eliminate much of what you love. 

And then there is guilt.  Your mother’s stern gaze hovers over the Limoges which you never use because it has to be hand washed.  Your long deceased wife’s clothes and photos remain in place because you feel removing them is an act of disloyalty. And there are the happy memories — your deceased partner’s beautifully embroidered shirt obtained in a remote part of Laos hangs in the closet because it reminds you of an extraordinary trip. There is a grandmother at Green Lake who wheels her grand baby around the lake in warm weather occasionally wearing the striped cotton shirt that she probably bought in Guatemala in 1968. We all keep relics from happily remembered times, whether they are love letters, a particular shell or stone, a book of poetry, or any other such thing.  This is not collecting, however.

Does my son need or want 4 sterling silver liqueur glasses (which I have never used) given to me by a close college friend when I married? No, he does not – he doesn’t want any sterling at all as far as I can tell.  Nor does he want multiple sets of fine china.  In fact, much of what was prized in our parents’ time – crystal, silver, china — is unwanted by our children.  Unless you have mid-fifties paraphernalia or furniture, you’re usually out of luck as far as your children’s interest goes.  Occasionally, something like your grandmother’s Tiffany-style lamp strikes a note of interest or certain ethnic art and contemporary photography, but the Limoges, Spode and Meissen are of little interest. Winnowing through the assorted artifacts, books, and art will be the hardest part for me.  Many of them, in popular parlance, bring me joy, and I don’t want to live a joyless life just to say I’ve cleared out everything.

I view collecting as fairly harmless entertainment; I’m not bidding at Sotheby’s, gambling online, or spending large sums. I am educating myself about objects of interest. The thrill of the hunt is the fun of it — finding what you want at an affordable price. My favorite source in Seattle is Goodwill, followed by estate sales and consignment shops. If you have a good eye and sure sense of what you like, you will be able to find some unusual pieces for very little money, although Goodwill is not as bountiful as it used to be. It has been popular for many years now, and antique dealers, college students, and wealthy amateurs roam the aisles looking for bargains. People go because they’re interested in being environmentally conscious, others go so they can resell a bargain for much more on E Bay or Etsy, and others like me go because you can sometimes find incredible buys in all departments. Unfortunately, good things don’t stay undiscovered for long.

I do enjoy the quirky people who sometimes frequent Goodwill. Once, a young man came up to me and asked: “Don’t you think the best thing about Goodwill is the music?” as he danced down the aisle to The Temptations. An older woman with a good voice will sing along to every song on the soundtrack, sometimes harmonizing with the melody. When Goodwill still carried pianos, there would usually be someone playing Fur Elise, The Blue Danube, or a Beatles tune. It has a much more democratic and interesting customer base today. The employees come and go but many have been there for years. Long time female employees from Somalia wearing hijabs and colorful textiles work diligently putting knick knacks on shelves, and the female employee who wears sparkly, head to toe all blue outfits is an institution.

Collecting is an extension of your personality and interests. Collecting is when you consciously set out to find specific items of interest and build them into a meaningful representation of that genre, or at least as far as your budget allows. Ideally, collections should have a certain order; they should make sense.  The making sense of it requires that you periodically weed through things, discarding a less favored piece or adding a better quality item.  Since collectors pick and choose, they have control over their collecting. Whether you are a deltiologist (old postcards), a lepidopterist (butterflies), a vexillologist (flags), a brandophilist (cigar wrappers), collect baseball cards, salt and pepper shakers, Amish quilts, or arrowheads, your expressions of self and intent are revealing and interesting.

Good craftsmanship is inspiring whether it is a well turned ceramic pot, a painting, a handwoven rug, sculpted works in bronze or wood, or the infinite gradations of light in a photograph. I admire fine plumbing work and carpentry, thorough window and gutter cleaning, and fastidious applications of culinary techniques. I also like crude folk art which isn’t necessarily refined but displays humor and energy. These artists and technicians in their field have talent and the persistence required to do a good job. In part, collecting is continuing to look for excellence in enduring interests

Travel has greatly influenced my interest in collecting. Asian temple dogs, seagrass and Native American baskets, masks, Inuit art, Mata Ortiz pots, outsider art, books — rare and otherwise — photography, Russian enamel boxes, Mexican folk ceramics, and African, South American, and Asian artifacts are collected because I like their texture, color, exoticism, and humor. I am much less likely today, however, to spend time acquiring because I know that soon I will have to start divesting and downsizing.

My mask collection began haphazardly with a couple of Indonesian masks acquired at Goodwill. Then I went to Kenya for the first time to visit my son and was exposed to a great variety of African goods at different Masai markets, primarily in Nairobi.  Over the years, I have found interesting masks in many different places from the Gem Show in Quartzite, Arizona, on subsequent trips to Nairobi, travels through China and Southeast Asia, to all of the usual thrift stores.

Collecting mistakes are common.  My small Inuit collection began out of ignorance. For years, I bought what turned out to be fake, tourist trade Inuit art. If only I had googled the topic sooner.  I also spent some time collecting carved wooden Mexican birds, fish, and other mammals.  They were the real thing, but at some point I lost interest, and they were sold at a yard sale, along with the fake Inuit art. The same fate awaited a large egg collection and many brass candlesticks. My brother, who had a significant Inuit collection, once gave me a large bird carved out of soapstone by a well known sculptor and a brass plate.  I liked them, did a little research, and found a few pieces here and there at estate sales.

My Mata Ortiz Mexican pot collection began on a trip many years ago when I stopped by a small shop in Madrid, New Mexico. I spotted some interesting pots, and heard the story of Mata Ortiz. Juan Quezada, in the town of Mata Ortiz, recreated the style of the Mogollon pottery found at the nearby archeological site of Casas Grandes beginning in the early 60s, and by the 70s was teaching family members and friends to make the pottery as well. Quezada found fragments of Paquime and Mimbres pottery, researched and refined the clay and firing process through experimentation entirely on his own. Spencer MacCallum, an American anthropologist and writer, came upon one of Quezada’s pots, met him, and eventually became his agent and financial supporter, introducing his work to American audiences. Visits to New Mexico and Arizona are always a good source for these pots, as are the occasional estate sale or antique store.

I always think of Fran Lebowitz when I think of book collectors. She has 15,000 or more books, rarely gets rid of any, and has carted them around with her for years. I understand the feeling. The decades of my changing interests in fiction and non-fiction are revealed by glancing through the shelves. Fiction obsessions beginning with 20th century French writers, Joan Didion, Russell Banks, Jim Harrison, southern writers, female English writers, mysteries, and many more, and particular interests in sociology and psychology, feminist writing, photography, jazz and popular music, the Civil War and history in general, and ethnic art of all sorts fill all the bookcases on both floors. Books provide an enormous sense of comfort and are a reflection of your life’s interests; they will be difficult to dispose of.

As you can see, these examples of some of my small collections are not major art purchases, but they do please my aesthetic compulsions. Soon I plan to start consigning items into the Donate, Sell, Maybe, or Keep piles, and will still assuredly end up with too much stuff to put into any new abode. This is why storage lockers exist, I suppose. Like everything else I have too much of, I wonder what to do with my 33 large photo albums.  I can’t possibly throw them away, but where will they go?  Please don’t tell me that I can digitalize them since that would take years.

(Once again, I apologize for my inadequately composed photos, the flash flares, and the bad lighting.)

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“In the process of decluttering things in my life, I was peeling off the layers of my past that no longer mattered to my present life. But as I did that shedding, memories and emotions arose. I sometimes felt sadness as I removed reminders of a failed marriage or the loss of a loved one. I grieved lost dreams and deceased people and pets. If I looked for it, I also experienced gratitude for the good times and the love that once was. Eventually, I felt lighter after I worked my way through a particular emotional zone that exposed remnants of unhealed parts of my life.”
Lighter Living: Declutter, Organize, Simplify by Lisa J. Shultz