This is my daughter’s collection of vintage cameras. She majored in photography at MICA (Maryland Institute College of Art) and before that she attended an arts high school where she studied visual arts and specifically photography. She was the kind of gal who never went anywhere without her camera in tow. Her camera became emblematic of who she was and how she navigated her world--as an artist, a documentarian and an observer of the ordinary, yet profound moments in life.
As I write this, I'm in Baltimore visiting her. This arrangement of cameras is displayed on a wall in the family dining room. At first glance, this is just a grouping of old cameras, but arranged in this fashion they become more than the sum of their parts. Take a look at how neatly they're placed--three in a row, with each individual camera given ample space to breathe and shine. They ask the observer to stop and consider each camera and then to consider the whole and the power of a collection--the similarities and the differences.
Step back and the grouping becomes an intriguing art installation.
Creative Friends, take a look at your own personal collections. Reconsider the things you own that someone else might dismiss as mere clutter. Ask yourself what does the collection (or even the clutter) reveal about you--your dreams and wishes, your secret or not-so-secret identity. Your past. Your future. Your collections will have obvious common features. They're all pretty tea cups or everything on this shelf came from your late mother's house, or they simply represent your love of mid-century modern.
But now, I want you to ask yourself why these things resonate for you. Trace your history with the object. Consider your first encounter with the tea cup or that pink flamingo lawn ornament. Create a little movie in your mind. Imagine a kind of quest where you are you and you are searching for some mysterious thing. You are attracted to this object because you know it is a clue to something deep. Perhaps unfathomable.
As a creative person, you keep a treasure chest hidden in the attic of your mind, and your he humble collection is truly treasure made tangible. A tea cup is not just a tea cup. And a pink flamingo is not just a pink flamingo. It's a world. It’s a talisman. A road map. A guiding principle.
Friends, treasure your treasures and go forth and be creative.
Love,
Jamie
Oui, oui! I’ve recently decided that I’m no longer a packrat, but indeed, a collector! If Barbra Streisand can have a room (not just a closet) of her “vintage” clothes, than I too can deem however much space I want to as my “collection” of books, vinyl, old emails written & received when living in Paris, along with my 9+ bins of photos! Unfortunately I still can’t justify all the papers that live in boxes, file folders and drawers. I’m talking of old insurance policies for cars and homes no longer owned. I know. I’m bad.
At 77 I keep saying I need to start Swedish death-cleaning. My only child is totally opposite to me. I don’t think she keeps even one Hallmark greeting card a week past her birthday. She specifically has told me she wants only the VHS homemade tapes from the family reunions, parties, holidays and trips. She doesn’t want any of “my stuff”, like all les Tour Eiffels I have amassed. Well maybe she’d want the one by Baccarat that I bought when living there, but other than all the photos, she wants nada. And there are beaucoup, as I used to order doubles. And, I also did some photography (I can relate to your daughter.) for which I even got paid. Thus the 9+ bins!
So I have no excuse in keeping anything that really doesn’t suit my current life. I can’t pass tchotchkes onto grandchildren, as I have only granddogs. I am giving my vinyl albums and CDs to one of my great-nieces. But no one wants mixed tapes🙀! In fact, I don’t really even need them now. Although I can see keeping some treasured items, living in a 2 br flat has its limitations. Clearly much of the paper needs to be tossed and, yes, perhaps even the mixed tapes!
I will look at the collections, as you suggested, to reflect on their meaning and who I was when I acquired them. That would probably make a good chapter.