In the beginning, there was an object. It may have been purchased, inherited, or obtained long ago and never parted with. Somewhere in time this object ceased to be just an object but became a symbol of something more, something larger than just itself. Its appeal is more than visual pleasure or functional satisfaction; it gratifies in some way that is unseen. Over time this object has been joined by other objects which meet, exceed, or build upon this fancy. The group of objects is called a collection; the addition of objects, the actions of a collector. But neither the addition of objects nor the actions taken are the foundation of a collection itself. The foundation of a collection lies in its meaning.

Why do you fancy these objects so? What motivates you to pursue them?

Because this meaning is invisible it is difficult to articulate. As a result not often discussed by the average collector. Because it is both unseen and unsung it, and the collector, can be too easily devalued.

Collectors are seen as quirky, strange, crazy &/or self-indulgent. Even the collectors themselves often devalue their own actions and objects. We’ll call our mass of objects ‘junk’; we’ll call ourselves ‘wacky’; we’ll mock ourselves in our wacky pursuit of more junk. Perhaps if we knew why we did what we did, we’d see more value in what we do.

Primarily, most collectors will answer the question “Why do I collect these things?” with “Because I like them.” But this is not a real answer. Without getting overly philosophical on the limitations of such statements, let me share with you a little something I learned in college called Aesthetic Response.

Aesthetic Response is defined as: A person’s cognitive and affective response to a work of art.

At first, this only meant to me that my professor would not accept statements such as “I love this painting” or “I hate this music.” I had to say what I loved (or hated) and why. I couldn’t say “I like this painting because it’s blue and I like the color blue,” I had to say why I liked the color blue and what it meant to me based on my value system and experiences. At first it sucked. But then, eventually, something clicked.

Here was a chance to get into my own gut and say what I felt, valued and had experienced. Here was no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ answer, but a process — a challenge for me to speak about what mattered to me and why. And a chance for me to participate in a larger conversation about what others felt, valued and had experienced. In these conversations we didn’t always agree, but all those who really participated learned something.

You have the same opportunity with your collection.

Below are some examples — which admittedly I am taking liberties with. (My apologies to those involved for making them guinea pigs in my motivational musings — I promise to use myself and my own collections next time.) You may not agree with me, but consider this a conversation to participate in.

Examples:

You don’t just love Smurfs, you love the memories of watching the cartoon with your siblings. It was the one show you all could agree on watching, and you credit the Smurfs with forming some part of your outlook on life.

Courtney Lynne doesn’t just love Vicks VapoRub, she loves the smell which is tied to memories of being cared for. It’s not just the physical comfort of medicine and parental care, but the sense of individualism she feels when she remembers her parents bringing back that jar from Mexico — and when she was kicked out of a Girlscout sleepover because she wouldn’t turn her prized possession over to the troop leader.

Jeff Harris doesn’t just love comic books, but the creativity they represented to him when he was a child, the inspiration they provide him as an adult artist, and the connections he has to those who came before him as well as those he works with now.

As personal as each motivation is, there is a larger context for each collection as well. Sure, future generations can learn something about you from your Smurfs, about Courtney via her VapoRubs, and about Jeff from his comic books. But each collection also preserves something larger than ‘just’ individuals and their personal histories; there are cultural significances to be seen. These collections preserve a period in time and illustrate the values of that time. They also provide connections and insights to others.

How many others were shaped by the Smurfs? What did the Smurfs teach about family values? What effect did the Smurfs have on children and their expectations regarding entertainment and commercialism? Did the Smurfs represent American values or those of Communism?

How many others have been comforted by VapoRub? What’s the connection between comfort and commerce? As a globally marketed product, what does VapoRub say about human commonalities & experiences which defy boarders? What does collecting have to do with individualism and how you identify yourself?

How many others have been inspired by comic books? Were they inspired to be readers, writers, artists? What importance does fantasy have in our society? How have advertising, entertainment, communication etc. been affected by comic books?

Your answers may not be the same as those of another who collects the same objects, for your values and experiences may be quite different. In fact since your values and experiences drive and shape your collection, your collection may be vastly different than that of another who collects the same objects. Won’t that make your conversation more interesting?!

This is some of what USC was getting at when it posted a call for papers. Your collection itself and the motivation behind it may seem small, individual, wacky, and self-indulgent — but if you really think about it, your collection is part of a larger collection, a larger context, a larger conversation.

There’s a saying in the theatre, “There are no small roles, only small actors.” I say there are no small collections, only small collectors. Play your role with pride; participate in the conversation.