Many collectors have emotional reactions to — and meaningful interactions with — objects. We collectors “get” that objects are more than just themselves, more than symbols, and certainly more than a pile of materialistic goods. At a deeper level, we collectors react to items — those we own, those we seek, as well as those we know may only visit, like those in museums. As I mentioned last week, some scholars call these kind of experiences “numinous”.
I believe that we collectors have numinous experiences — or at least something very close to it — with our collectibles. I think that’s the thing we have trouble articulating, the thing we collectors would call the personal and emotional values which motivate us to hunt & gather our objects, that thing we mean when we say our collectibles are “priceless.” I think numinosity is that intrinsic value we defend while some discuss a lack of inherent or economic values. Numinous experiences are the difference between our tomato/tomatoe views on collectibles: They monetarily “invest in” and we are spiritually “invested in.” We believe, seek, have faith — and when we see it? By gawd we know it!
Call me crazy for comparing collecting to a spiritual experience (I’ve been called worse for less), but what else can you call that mesmerizing combination of knowing and joy — that peace which comes from standing in front of an object?
Plus, if I call it a religion, you can’t persecute me.
Happy Holidays From Clara Bow
And even if a collector’s reaction to his or her collection isn’t technically numinous (but I remind you, you don’t get to select my faith!), there’s a certain je ne sais quoi to collecting. I dig clean– but used — lady’s underwear (that’s “vintage lingerie” to me) and you still play with dolls (OK, you call them “action figures“), and why we each do that is completely unique to each of us. The “what” and “why” are our individual holy grails & pilgrimage, so to speak. What we collect has an “it” factor to us, but not everyone appreciates it like it’s Clara Bow and the year is 1927.
Such a pity, really.
But I suppose if you’ve never stood before, touched or held something inanimate and had such an experience, it sounds (and looks) rather kooky. And truth be told, it is a difficult thing to explain — like deja vu, you know what it is, but how do you explain it to someone who claims they’ve never felt it? Poorly.
And like explaining your god to someone who’s never heard of him, you probably only seem crazier than when you began.
But the reason I mention all this is not only to comfort the rest of you misunderstood, under-appreciated nut-jobs I’m proud to associate with — or even to start a cult of collectors (though the idea is tempting). I mention this because it’s that time of year when people (most of whom are without numinous experience) play Nostradamus and try predicting the hot collectibles of the future.
If we don’t know what the “it” factor is, if we don’t experience the same pull or have the same holy grails, if we don’t all know our numismatists from our numinosity, how can we pretend to predict what’s going to have “it”?
I’d love to be able to say that I can predict what people will be moved by — be it the next Big Collectible or the It Girl that will set the world on fire (figuratively, I hope).
But really, that’s kind of like me telling you that you should collect glass Coke bottles to find yer own Nirvana.
If that’s true, the gods certainly must be crazy.
