curator

Fundamentals of Collection Development and Management

The second edition of the ALA’s Fundamentals of Collection Development and Management was staring me in the face at the ‘new arrivals’ display while I was waiting in line to check out my stack of books and I wondered if it would be helpful in terms of developing one’s personal collection — books or not. Curious, I added it to my pile.

They aren’t kidding when they say this book is for library professionals; not being one, I cannot properly review the book in that context — but skimming the pages I did pull a number of things which may be of use the collector.

Obvious parallels are the matter of funds (while we may dream of “funding,” we may content ourselves with merely having to please a mate’s inquisition, and not a Board of Acquisition) and, when funds are available, the proper selection of items to add to collections. Is it good enough? Does this object add to the collection as a whole? Do I like it that much — at the expense of the next things I (invariably will) find? The author, Peggy Johnson, states this situation very well:

A tension between collecting as much as possible and collecting only the best and most appropriate has been a constant feature of library selection. This is coupled with defining what is good and appropriate and balancing user demand against librarians’ perception of value.

While individual collectors do not have a general public to think of when considering user demand (generally, like the matter of funds, it is the collector and his family), considering your collection in terms of a user and their demands rather than a person and their hobby can be helpful to those who wish to accept that as collectors they are curators.

So what are the sorts of things collectors should consider when selecting items for their own collections? Well, really the question is, “Does the object fit the mission statement you have for your collection?” If you don’t yet have a mission statement, perhaps the following questions will help clarify things for yourself.

(I barely have any of these things figured out for my own collections, so I can’t even begin to presume answers for yours. But don’t skip this list — bookmark this post for further thinking, or cut & paste the questions into a document for brainstorming later.)

Who does this collection serve?

In the smaller picture sense, will the objects only be handled by and displayed for yourself, or will they be seen or used elsewhere, such as exhibited at libraries, collector shows, etc.?

In the bigger picture, is the collection really just to amuse and entertain yourself, or do you hope to leave it for future generations? And if for future generations, do you mean for your own children, or the future generations of humanity at large? What do these future generations require in terms of pieces and/or documentation in order to understand &/or value the collection as a whole?

What is the character of the collection?

Does it capture a personal narrative, a cultural one, both? Does it focus on the rare and elusive, or is it the largest?

Sustainability must also be considered — both in terms of interest and physical survival. What objects are necessary to keep the collection interesting, to set it apart from a simple grouping of items? What items are perhaps already too fragile or require more care than you can handle?

Please don’t let these questions intimidate you; there aren’t any wrong — or right — answers. Just as there aren’t any wrong or right collections or philosophies about them. (And, if you are intimidated or embarrassed by this, check out my upcoming presentation at the first Bookmark Collectors Virtual Convention!) Let the questions empower you to see more in your darling little hobby than ever before!

In truth, you may never really arrive at concrete answers; collections are ever changing, growing, just as the people behind them are. As Nancy M. Cline is quoted in the book (from “Staffing: The Art of Managing Changes,” in Collection Management and Development: Issues in an Electronic Era), you must have “the ability to tolerate ambiguity.”

Perhaps the one area in which you are least likely to feel “like a museum” or a curator is that, at least in the beginning, you may not have defined your collection. Museums have a plan which includes the definition of their collection, generally before their first purchase is made. In part they do this for funding as they have to answer to a board of directors, benefactor, or other funding source — often they do before they get or expand a location.

You might not think so, but in many ways you and your private museum have many luxuries that ‘real museums’ don’t have. Some of the larger museums may ‘win’ in the bigger budget department, but you don’t have the same accountability — unless it’s to get the spouse to agree to that floor-to-ceiling shelving unit for those Smurfs. You may attend an auction with the intentions of acquiring a specific piece and it the price goes too high, you are still allowed to spend your alloted amount at the auction on something else. This may not be so for a museum which has been given (granted) funds for one specific item. You may have to ask or include your spouse in decisions regarding purchases, but this is relatively little compared to grant proposals and accounting for every penny in your budget.

However, you can learn from museum curators.

One of the first things curators do is to define the purpose of the collection.

What is it they are trying to preserve?

Why is this important? To whom?

What is scope of the collection?

Is there a specific time period, artist, movement etc which has a natural contained set of parameters, or must they create a somewhat artificial yet natural cut-off point?

They not only ask themselves these questions, but they answer them. This becomes their Mission Statement, outlining the philosophy of the collection as well as identifying specific pieces which are ‘must haves’, and the objectives of the museum. (The Smithsonian website has an excellent section on this.)

Thinking in terms of what your collection means, its scope etc. is challenging. It often requires that we put into words what we do not consciously think about. For most of us, our collections weren’t planned. It started with just one impulsive Smurf purchase, and before you knew it you found yourself buying new shelving just to house them all. But answer the questions; this is where the really intersting stuff lies.

Why do you collect these things? What does it represent? Is there a central piece? What does each piece mean, and what does it mean as a collection, a whole?

At first, some of these questions may seem silly. How can you seriously discuss preserving the integrity of Smurfs, circa 1980? Or write down ‘why Smurfs are important to me’ in 100 words or less?

But once you start to answer these questions, you are on your way to a definition. With definition comes purpose. Now you can begin to articulate what you are looking for to form, organize and complete your collection.

Perhaps you resist the notion that as a collector you have your own museum. Maybe you (still) imagine that a museum must be significantly historical or be meaningful to society at large. But let me tell you, if other folks believed that their collection had no value, then we would be without the the Burlingame Museum of Pez Memorabilia, the Museum of Bad Art, the Cockroach Hall of Fame Museum, and the Lunchbox Museum. (The latter is recognized by the Smithsonian, yet!) Yet these and many other ’strange little museums’ have hundreds of visitors (or more) each year. Even if the number of visitors who would make a pilgrimage &/or pay to see your collection is a very small one, your collection does have merit and meaning.

Do you still think your collection is undesirable and uninteresting? Then ask yourself this: Do you have people bidding against you at auctions?

Yeah, I thought so. *wink*

See, your collection is interesting. You have a collection, you have a museum; that’s pretty clear-cut to me.

As with any museum, there is a curator: You. You are responsible for shaping and preserving the collection.

You may not have thought of yourself as a curator before, so let’s look at what one is.

The U.S. Department of Labor says, “Curators direct the acquisition, storage, and exhibition of collections, including negotiating and authorizing the purchase, sale, exchange, or loan of collections. They are also responsible for authenticating, evaluating, and categorizing the specimens in a collection. Curators oversee and help conduct the institution’s research projects and related educational programs. Today, an increasing part of a curator’s duties involves fundraising and promotion, which may include the writing and reviewing of grant proposals, journal articles, and publicity materials, as well as attendance at meetings, conventions, and civic events.”

This boils down to three rather natural steps for most collectors.

Step One: Acquisition
This is rather simple; it’s the collecting part. In the process of adding pieces to your collection you automatically authenticate and evaluate items to see what pieces are worth your investment. Like any museum, you have a budget which prevents you from having it all. Sometimes you get lucky; you can afford it, so you buy it. Sometimes though, you want it, want it bad, but it’s too expensive. So then you have to save funds as you watch and wait for another like it — or you may may get more creative. You might arrange a trade for other items in your collection, take out a loan (even if it is just from your spouse), or make payments over time. ‘Real museums’ do this too, only they call it negotiating an exchange, finding a benefactor, or fundraising.

Step Two: Storage and Display
Like any other museum curator you worry about how to best show off your collection. Not only should the items be shown to their best advantage, but done so in a way which does not harm them. Depending upon your particular collection this may be as simple as keeping them out of reach of small children or as challenging as shielding the items from the environment at large. Protecting items may mean higher shelves; protective cases, sleeves, or framing; or even storing them out of sight so that they live to see another decade. Sometimes even the best curators at the largest museums will have to pass on a piece simply because they do not have the room or the ability to properly store the item.

Step Three: Exhibition and Education
The more committed you are to your collection, the more knowledge you gain. The more passionate you are about your collection, the more you want to share both your knowledge and your collection. Through this you become an expert. You don’t have to be collecting something for 25 years in order to be an expert. Maybe your collection is a very unique set of items. (It need not be due to the rarity of the items themselves, but in their context to one another.) Or maybe your collection is so specific & limited that it requires you to be an expert in some small niche area. But one way or another, collecting eventually leads to the collector, the curator, becoming an expert.

As an expert you may be asked to share your collection in a more public venue. It may be a casual exhibit at a Scout meeting or local library, or a more prestigious event at an art gallery or state historical society. Now you are “loaning your acquisitions.” It might be that you are asked to write a paper for your collecting newsletter, share photos of your collection in an author’s book, speak at a local collectibles show, or help evaluate items in an estate. Now you are a curator “promoting” the collection.

Of course, being out in the public means you are also more visible to others, making acquisitions even easier. And the circle continues…

See? You’ve been acting as a curator of your own museum for quite some time now.