A few years ago, while spending a day nosing around the Art Institute, I was confronted with the full spectrum of what rational people choose to collect. First, I toured the extraordinary artworks assembled by Mrs. Potter Palmer, Martin Ryerson and other historic figures whose tastes for
sophisticated European paintings helped create one of the world`s great museums. Then I visited the School of the Art Institute`s gallery, where the contemporary collections amassed by various faculty members were on view. Vintage foundation garments, bottle openers, cat whiskers and squashed eye-glasses were among the unexpected ”collectibles” there, personal
expressions all but obscure enough to confound many admirers of the Impressionism favored by Mrs. Palmer.
Somewhere in the gulf between those two extremes there`s a lesson about collecting-who does it, why they do it and what they collect. Now that one third of the American population is estimated to collect something or other, the old-fashioned notion that collecting is class- or education-related can be chucked out the window. And while a collecting culture may tell anthropologists that it`s not nomadic (too hard to cart all that stuff around) or completely impoverished (a certain amount of disposable income is helpful), just try to come up with some generalizations about millions of people gathering everything from fine art and antiques to buttons and Star Trek mugs. Whatever object, medium or period of time you care to mention, there`s someone out there collecting it, things made from it or things produced during it. There`s probably a society and newsletter devoted to it also, with a yearly convention and trade show. It seems as though new collectibles are being thought up daily, with whole companies relying on the acquisitiveness of the public to snap up ”special edition” plates, coins, dolls and wristwatches whose sole purpose is to be collected. A few years ago my mother even began to stockpile wooden cigar boxes: she`d seen so many ordinary items from the past hit the jackpot on the collecting circuit that she wanted to anticipate future demands. And who didn`t regard their cookie jar with newfound hope following the multi-thousand-dollar sale of Andy Warhol`s own collection?
Meanwhile, attending flea markets, estate sales and auctions has become a national pastime, with thousands rising at dawn to be among the first to paw over other people`s detritus in the hopes of finding some overlooked treasures. It`s at these collecting grabfests that I`ve practically duked it out with likeminded devotees over the cellulose bracelets, hats, decorative compacts, Victorian mourning jewelry and unusual ceramic plates that are just some of my current obsessions. Some of us will drive hours into the countryside seeking out new, undiscovered deposits of antiques, then will peevishly keep the information to ourselves. Stories about rare finds, unbelievable bargains and the ones that got away have filled the niche once occupied by the campfire ghost stories of our youth.
But being a bona fide collector doesn`t necessarily require money or inordinate amounts of time, only an overriding passion. In fact, there are plenty of low-cost, even freebie collections out there of things such as postmarks, erasers, matchbooks and the ubiquitous beer can-all items that we encounter on a daily basis. I knew several people who collected monogrammed hotel robes back before they could be automatically charged to a credit card. With the choice of collectibles as limitless as personal taste, there`s no question that one collector`s beloved object is another`s unsightly gewgaw. I feel squeamish about rows of mounted trophy heads collected by hunters and have never been enthusiastic about Lladro figurines. But I could tell from my neighbor`s expression that a wallful of Mexican Day of the Dead clay skeletons just did not compute. Nor did my sequined voodoo banners from Haiti-yet another outgrowth from my earlier, kiddie collections of seashells, stuffed animals and troll dolls. Having been bitten young by the collecting bug, I`m sure I`ll continue in my dotage to gather all sorts of useless paraphernalia around me.
Of course, Sigmund Freud would say that collecting of any sort is simply a manifestation of our infantile interest in bodily functions. But that didn`t stop him from engaging in a 40-year search for hundreds of Greek, Roman and Egyptian antiquities, many of which surrounded his analysands on the famous couch. Other psychologists explain the collecting urge as a vestige of our primal instinct for hoarding food; now that we don`t have to store vittles for those Neanderthal winters, we can turn our sights to porcelain thimbles and Louis XVth furniture.
But I prefer a different psychological rationalization, one that explains the desire to gather analogous things as a way of controlling a chaotic universe. The pure satisfaction I gleaned as a child adding to and arranging my little hoards is no different from what I feel now when, as an Advanced Flotsam Finder, I`ve ferreted out some new tchotchke, rescued it from exile and brought it home to display with its kin. Collecting, to those of us who do it, is like scratching an itch. ”It`s an inner drive that I`ve always felt,” concurs Ann Nathan, whose Objects Gallery in River North is an extension of her unquenchable collecting interests that encompass tramp art, fish decoys, old pottery and `50s furniture, among other things. ”There`s the challenge of the quest, the search, the possibility of finding even one little goody. I don`t think about where I`m going to put it, and I don`t even have to unpack it for weeks-I just love finding it.”
The reasons that we choose to collect what we do vary with the individual. Nostalgia, investment, curiosity, preservation and pure visual delight are all motivations. According to Jack Nachbar, professor of Popular Culture at Bowling Green State University in Ohio, ”a collection,
particularly if it`s on display, is basically an outer symbol of one`s inner self. They`re often made up of objects we`d like to be identified with, so they become signs of our own identities that will define us in some way. Some collections, like fine art and antiques, can be status symbols, since they`re visible signs of affluence, but they also show off the owner`s expertise and educated taste.” Nachbar, who says he`s not a collector himself but then confessed to the recent purchase of a 1951 Roy Rogers lunch box, the possible seed for a future hoard, adds that ”collecting is a socially acceptable activity with a lot of social communication involved. Through collecting associations, magazines, discussions and trading sessions with other collectors, there`s a whole group identity formed that can be very comfortable for people-it`s an instant `in.` ”
Sometimes collecting can be motivated by a desire to stand out rather than to fit in. ”We all have a great need to personalize our surroundings, to set ourselves apart,” muses Dianne Pilgrim, a collector of Americana and director of the Smithsonian`s Cooper-Hewitt Museum in New York, which specializes in the decorative arts. ”It provides people with an outside interest separate from their jobs and family-and thank goodness, since to us, the lone voice out there of someone devoted to wallpaper of the 1920s to 1950s is incredibly valuable. Without these people, much of our decorative past just wouldn`t survive.”
Exactly what constitutes a collection is always open to debate. I like to think that three of anything is a very good start, but Webster`s Dictionary doesn`t even bother to specify numbers, defining a collection as ”a mass or pile; an accumulation.” B.C. Holland, Chicago`s art purveyor to many of the world`s noted ”pilers,” believes that ”collecting involves making qualitative distinctions among things that are available, learning what those distinctions are, and then aspiring to higher planes. Having as many of something as you can get and acquiring them without plan or order-that`s just accumulating. It`s like the difference between being a gourmand and being a gourmet!”
Finally, whether you`re a Malcolm Forbes, with world-class collections of everything from lead soldiers to Faberge Easter eggs or just someone who can`t seem to get enough T-shirts from rock concerts, remember one thing: We`re all in it together, and if you find a great flea-market somewhere, give me a call.
