From the very dawn of Neolithic life, people have been driven by an impulse to gather, preserve and display objects of perceived significance. And to impress a mate. It’s an evolutionary trait. We still have it. Just like us humans, collectibles come in all shapes and sizes. Most of us are collectors, some without meaning to. (I’ve been in your basement). A conspiracy of unidentified objects. It’s the times when I pick something up, turn it over and wonder how (and why) it actually got there. Things that make people raise their eyebrows. Sometimes it just makes me want to lie down and stare at the dancing strands of cobwebs on my ceiling. And then there are those who are considered collectors; deliberately gathering tangible objects consistently and with divine devotion—often with an eye for what others have overlooked. Some are worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, others worth almost nothing by any market measure. Lace tablecloths gathered from flea markets, vintage quilts, jewelry and glassware, coffee table books and cookbooks, ceramic cats, tiny cushions, china dolls, comic books and matchbooks, postcards and trading cards, takeout menus and beer coasters, concert tickets, sports jerseys, and questionable Valentine’s cards. What defines a good collector isn’t how much you spend. It’s how you see. It’s what a thing means. Every time you look at it, you are reminded of the conversation, the place, the taste, the artist you met, the torrential rain at the flea market, who you were with, the overnight bus ride in Peru, the time you nearly got traded for a camel in a souk, your grandmother. These are pieces that have a storied past. It’s a feeling that someone could casually pick up one of your collected items and know that there would be a tale about how it came to be there. And that it would be interesting because they would learn something about why you decided to collect it, where and when you found it, and what you value. You are being seen. A collection is curated on purpose. A collection is a statement, even when it’s not trying to be one. It’s also a very human way of saying: this matters to me. It’s a tactile anchor for memory. Maybe we collect to feel a closer connection to the makers themselves and what they create. Maybe we value the humanity expressed through craft. Maybe to honour the history, the creativity and the imagination they embody. And maybe we just appreciate beauty. So why do I collect? Mostly because the objects are not necessarily a collectible commodity, but they are automatically elevated and memorable to me because each one is a record of someplace I’ve been, of something I love, of somewhere I want to remember, of someone I was with. These are emotional pieces, sometimes pieces of beauty; not usually investments. They are about my interests, what I appreciate, a stubborn little act of attention. Later some may say that they are traces of a life well lived. Accumulated memory. A semblance of originality. Confidence. There is a fine line between being a collector and shall we just say—an overindulged compulsion. Clutter is the enemy of beauty, so you want to be strategic in display and amount. A simple rule of thumb is this: a collection should add value to your life, not reduce it. Lastly, collect what pleases you and when it ceases to do so, get rid of it and move on. You don’t need permission to enjoy what you enjoy. Let it be fun. Let it be yours |
Hunters and Gathering
June 16, 2026 by Leave a Comment
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