What isn’t a collection?
by Professor Martin Parker
A few weeks ago, I was told a story about a man who had hoarded so much stuff that he had to travel around crawling at ceiling level in his house, on top of the piles of bags, boxes, newspapers, suitcases. It was sad, and the person who told me was a police officer. The police had been called to the council house by social services because of worries about the tenant. He was rarely seen, and neighbours assumed he might have died. They didn’t like the smell either.
Hoarding is collecting in its simplest form, but it draws our attention to the logic that makes a collection into a collection and not merely a random pile of stuff. If I proudly showed you a pile of newspapers, boxes, bin bags, old household appliances and rotting food it would be an indicator of a socially discouraged form of obsession, a kind of madness, and you might feel justified in calling the police. But if I showed you my collection of Sunday newspapers, my collection of 1950s cardboard boxes, my collection of plastic bin bags, you might think me odd, but merely a collector. A hoard has no logic. Collections have a logic, and it is this that staves off madness. Most of the items in a hoard could themselves become part of collections if they were arranged on some axis of similarity. Old food cartons, combs, pornographic magazines, bottles, snow globes, airline sick bags – they are all collectable. So the distinctiveness of a collection is the relations between objects, and not the objects themselves.
This is an odd assertion, because of course most collectors would assert that the things themselves are what matter. They are right, from the point of view of the collector, but what commonly prevents us from thinking of collectors as mad people is this simple assertion of relations. ”This is like that.” This ashtray shaped like a tyre is like that ashtray shaped like a tyre. It might be eccentric to collect such things, but it is comprehensible. And, for the rational collector, this also means that there are things that they do not collect. A pen, which does not fit into a collection of pencils. A 1960 cardboard box. A brush. A drink carton. All not collected, and therefore important for maintaining the logic of a collection. Again, it is the relations that are important here. Both between the things that are collected and between those things and other things that are not present, and hence maintain the integrity of the collection.
There are some outer limits to this relational logic. You can’t collect things that rot or need feeding. A collection of guinea pigs isn’t really allowed, or a collection of old kebabs. Neither can one or two things be a collection. A collection has to have at least three items. Beyond that, anything material can be collected and be made into an arrangement that can be socially valued, and not merely an indicator of mental distress that will have your neighbours calling the police.
Martin Parker is Professor of Organisation Studies in the is Warwick Business School at the University of Warwick


Sunday, July 31, 2011