I have always been a collector.
I think I inherited the tendency from my dad, who amassed enviable collections of books, music and hi fi equipment.
I like to think that I am discriminating in my collecting, as he was. A curator, rather than an obsessive compulsive.
I am not a completist and my collecting focus changes rather than remaining fixed. My collections, and my interest in them, wax and wane over time.
Pippa dolls. Badges. Shells. Buttons. Postcards. Fabric. Tins.
I thought today of my vintage tin collection.
Gathered some years ago, it currently resides in a box in a cupboard upstairs. I use the odd one or two from the collection for practical purposes, but it has not been displayed as a collection since moving to this house.
I have read about Lisa Congdon’s project documenting her collections. I also read an article recently (I forget where) about how it is a good idea to photograph your collections and then part with them.
I’m a bit torn on that one. Whilst it may seem a pity that this particular collection is not on display, that doesn’t mean it won’t ever be.
As with everything, there comes a time to let go.
But there is also enormous joy to be had from the rediscovery of collections past.