Exploring the Impulse of Collecting

Several years ago, everyone was reading The Hare with Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal. In the book the author employs a collection of netsuke (miniature Japanese wood and ivory carvings) as a leitmotif to masterfully trace the history of his once prominent Jewish family. Recently, I came across this book, ironically while dusting. It started me thinking about why people collect.  We all do it in one form or another.  But what exactly fuels the impulse?

The start of a lifelong passion

Like most people, I’ve collected things over the years which captured my curiosity.  Allow me to tell you how it all began.  As a child I lived abroad. To “educate” their daughters, my parents dragged us around the museums and monuments of most of Europe. My hobby started at age eight with collecting toilet paper for fun. Yes, as weird as it may seem, back in the mid’50s toilet paper was a luxury item in Europe. The dramatic differences in texture from the soft, double-sheeted Charmin we used back in the States peaked my innocent fascination.  Crepe paper, waxed paper, or one-step-up-from-newspaper, the impulse to save a few sheets was too great to pass up. I delighted in looking at my nascent collection in its various shades of beige, grey and dusty rose.  In short, I was soft on TP.

My favorite specimen was acquired in a public bathroom on a trip to London.  Every time I examined the off-white sheet imprinted with “Property of her royal majesty’s government” I would dissolve into uncontrollable giggles. Luckily, by nine I moved on to more sophisticated collecting hunting for dolls wearing regional costumes and later souvenir demitasse spoons. I selectively picked out ones decorated with tulips, gondolas, shamrocks or other symbols of where we had visited as happy tourists. I still use this collection of spoons when entertaining.  People are always curious about their back-story. Naturally, I relish the opportunity to recount my travels as a carefree kid traipsing around Europe in my American penny loafers.

A child collector grows up

The obsession I first had for the toilet paper, doll and demitasse spoon collections evolved into a life-long hobby as an adult.  Something would seize my imagination and instinctively, I would start collecting it. While traveling—which I continued to do throughout my long career in the wine industry—I would set a goal on each trip of adding something new to one of my collections. The thrill of the hunt and the sheer hedonistic pleasure of owning unique objects propelled my “acquisition” habit.

Wondering about the impulse of collecting, I asked Karen Brosius for her thoughts. Karen should know, I thought, as she used to be the executive director of the Columbia Museum of Art. Prior to that, she disseminated millions of Phillip Morris dollars to artists as their vice president for corporate contributions and cultural affairs. No doubt, Karen had met a collector or two at these two positions.  Turns out she is one herself.

A reason for collecting

“People collect to learn and to have beauty around them, most generally.  I collect cookbooks.  They have become 'friends' actually, as I feel I have gotten to know the writers and chefs through their stories, their families, their houses, their gardens, along with the usual butcher, baker, and candlestick maker that contributes to the personality of those small villages around any countryside.  I must have 100 books now, and they are a comfort and a joy.”

How kissing a frog became a collection

Today, I have two collections which also bring me comfort and joy.  In addition to works of art done by women, my other prized collection consists of frogs. Yes, frogs.  It started thirty years ago on a trip to London.  Before boarding our flight home, my late husband and I planned a delicious lunch at a fancy-pants French restaurant called Le Gavroche. On each table sat a distinctive piece of sculpture made of silver knives, forks and spoons. Ours was of a whimsical frog.  I couldn’t stop admiring it. Having been raised in France, the silverware rendition of a grenouille (the derogatory nickname for a Frenchman) reminded me of my happy youth.  Ed called over the waiter and asked if the piece were for sale.  Indeed, it was. Ultimately, it ended up under the Christmas tree as one of my presents that year.  It remains the centerpiece of a collection displayed in our living room which I glance at with great satisfaction every time I walk into the room.  

Pigs around the house

Former magazine food editor, Jan Hazard, understands collecting items themed around animals.  She recounted how her pig collection began.  One year, her younger brother gave her a maple wooden board shaped like a pig.  Her sister received one shaped like a cow.  Why? Because growing up, Jan was messy like a pig and her sister was clumsy like a cow.  Jan used the pig as a springboard to start her fanciful collection.  She has glass, ceramic, porcelain and metal pigs tastefully sprinkled throughout her country home.  At Christmas, she even decorates the tree with ropes of Scandinavian paper pigs, a nod to her heritage and a charmingly unexpected touch.

However, make no mistake.  Jan’s collection is far from kitsch.  It is a serious one.  “I don’t do pigs painted on velvet,” she exclaimed somewhat indignantly over lunch the other day.  “Furthermore,” she continued with a serious frown on her face, “I don’t enjoy it when people give me pigs. If I don’t like them, I thank them politely, then hide their gift in a closet.”

An unlikely collector

Yesterday, I randomly asked a chatty New York cabbie in his mid-sixties if he collected anything. “Nah,” he replied with a Leonard Cohen gravelly voice. “Surely you must,” I retorted.  “Everyone collects something.”  As he speeded up to make a light before it turned red, he replied reluctantly.  “Well, I do keep things from growing up in Alphabet City. Most of my family still lives in this same neighborhood,” referring to the scruffy section of Manhattan’s East Village where the streets carry names like Avenue A, B, C and D. “Whenever a relative retires and cleans house,” the driver explained, “I ask if I can come over and rummage through their old stuff before they toss it.  In fact, I use one of my bedrooms to store my vinyl LPs, four-track tape player, cameras and other things such as my flip phone which are now totally obsolete.  My daughter’s friends ask why I keep all this junk and I reply because its part of my youth.”

It was amazing to me that the cabbie did not realize he was a collector. But he also overlooked the potency of nostalgia, yet another strong reason why people collect. Had a Freudian psychologist overheard our conversation, he/she might have said that the man used his collection to temporarily return to his childhood and in doing so savored a sort of safety net from his adult world.

A serious collector and proud of it, too!

Unlike the cabbie, Joan Ross from my Italian class, knows she is a collector and is not shy about it. “I could talk forever about my paperweights.” When I asked her how it started, she replied, “I was at an antique show at the Armory when I saw what I later learned was an antique lead-crystal paperweight created in the mid-nineteenth century.  The one I was holding was selling for $25,000 so I quickly and carefully returned it to the proprietor.”

“Later, through a friend,” Joan continued,” I was introduced to a store (recently closed) that sold paperweights and ceramics where I subsequently bought most of my paperweights. Needless to say, none of them cost $25,000. I have 33 of them, all of which were made between 1849 and 1851 (most are insured) and they are an addiction. Every couple of years I get an ‘itch’ and start looking for a new one.  But since my reliable source no longer exists, I haven't bought one in a few years. No one has ever given me one because the antique ones that I collect are pretty expensive - not in the gift-giving range. And also, I have tried to create a display with representative types and colors and am pretty choosy when selecting ones to add to my collection.”  Then she added enthusiastically, “I'm sorry you asked me this question because now I feel an "itch" coming on.  Oh dear.”

Collecting things and memories

Try asking someone if they collected things as a kid. Chances are their response will produce a smiling face and gentle chuckle.  My trainer Jenn Spina smiled when she told me that she collected Garbage Pail Kids cards (like Baseball cards). “They showed characters doing a whole range of disgusting, scatological things kids find funny. Now these items are available on e-Bay!” Jenn continued, “I also had a collection of sand in small glass jars from all the beaches my family visited on our vacations when I was young.  They were tossed out years ago.  With space being an issue living in Manhattan, my only collection now is 25 pint beer glasses with logos of all the marathons I’ve done.  I have them lined-up on a high shelf which runs the circumference of my kitchen.”

We often collect things from our youth and our adulthood because the memories make us feel secure and happy.  Ribbons, trophies, team photos or pint beer glasses, these items carefully amassed over time elicit in us a feeling of pride of our past accomplishments.

Framing memories

When Good Housekeeping’s former Director of Kitchen Appliances and Technology, Sharon Franck, was on her honeymoon in Vermont, she discovered a giftshop selling beautifully framed, antique can labels.  Sharon and her husband, both New Yorkers, befriended the shop’s Brooklyn-born owner. The former hippie and Berkley drop-out had married a woman from Vermont, moved there and set up a framing shop.  Sharon’s collection began as a nice way to remember her honeymoon. Then, year after year, she would return for more antique can labels.

Sharon sought out American brands from small manufacturers such as Butterfly, Quail, and Three Sisters.  She explained that the shop owner would echo the brand name by picking up an element in his framing, such as a butterfly or quail.  Eventually, she turned to e-Bay to acquire additional pieces and then would send them to Vermont for framing. Eventually, her collection was large enough to cover her entire dining room wall.  I asked her what would eventually happen to her collection.  “My daughter will someday inherit it and I sincerely hope she displays it somewhere where others can enjoy it too.”

From cabinets to museums

There are many other motives for collecting. Think about the wealthy European and American aristocrats who roamed the world in the 1700s and 1800s curating objects for their private collections. No doubt, they derived tremendous pleasure finding rare trophy pieces. But when they showed off their “cabinet of curiosities” to their peers, they also gained invaluable social status.  The term “cabinet,” by the way, referred to a room not a piece of furniture at that time. 

Of course, the best part of this was when the collections were finally donated to museums or became its own museum. LA’s Getty Museum, the Clark in Williamstown, Massachusetts, Philadelphia’s iconic Barnes Foundation and the Cone Collection—the crown jewel of the Baltimore Art Museum—come to mind as exceptional examples of private collections now available for the public’s enjoyment and enrichment.

Collecting for profit

Some individuals collect primarily for reasons of profit.  Fancy cars, paintings with pedigree or bottles of French wine from exceptional vintages, people seek them out for their value rather than their intrinsic beauty. Years ago, Ed and I were entertained by a young wine salesman in his Fort Lee apartment overlooking Manhattan’s skyline.  There were large canvasses of dark, abstract art on several walls in the living room which, to my aesthetic, were disturbingly ugly.  I asked him about them to appear polite.  “Oh, I don’t find these paintings particularly attractive. But that’s not the point.  The artists are hot right now.  I plan to sell them in several years.” While the man’s motives may have been primarily investment driven, he probably also derived some pleasure in the hunt.  I suspect he also enjoyed bragging to his friends how much money he made when he auctioned off one of his possessions.

The Darker Side of Collecting

Freudian psychologists have many theories about collecting.  One includes imposing order on the world. They theorize that individual collectors may have suffered some level of abonnement as a child or feel they lack control over their own lives.  I would shudder to think what they might say about my toilet paper collection as a child!

The fine line between collecting and, in its extreme form, hoarding, can sometimes be blurred. The basic distinction, however, between the two is that collectors can control their behavior, whereas hoarders (perhaps due to OCD or other anxiety disorders) cannot. Whatever the reason, one cannot dispute that collecting provides an outlet for some of our primal urges.  Many of all us continue throughout our lifetime to seek out new things to covet and possess.  As Joan Ross describes collecting, it is an “itch.”  And, my advice to anyone who collects is to scratch it wherever and whenever you can! Besides, if your collection becomes too big, you have options.  Either you can sell it, give to your family or friends or start your own museum.  You never know.