Why do people collect things—just about anything?
Collecting is a huge subject and everyone, it seems, has a theory on it, some more credible than others. Some say it gets addictive, like gambling, drugs, or sex. Carl Jung speculated that its widespread appeal is linked to the hunting and gathering once necessary for our survival. Psychoanalysis identifies five general motivations for collecting: for selfish purposes; for selfless purposes; as preservation, restoration, history, and a sense of continuity; as financial investment; and as an obsession. Others say that collecting is far too complex and human to be dealt with by way of definitions.
Although collections mostly involve physical objects, a collection may also result from the pursuit of something less tangible, such as experiences, ideas, or feelings. Memories and stories, for example, are collected and transformed by evocative writers. Author and poet Laura Chouette writes: “Since you are gone, I collect the stars each night—building my own night sky, so I have something to hold onto forever.”
Precious, an exhibition at the Museum of Brisbane—with over 3,000 objects from 30 collections—is very much about tangible things. But it’s also about the hidden meanings these objects hold for their collector. Precious affirms that amongst the current and former residents of our city, there are experts, connoisseurs, fanatics: people with deep knowledge of subjects that we may not know exist. In Precious, there are self-pouring teapots; shells; stoneware bottles and scientific glassware; trench art shoe horns; old tins and mechanical toys; dolls and figurines; architectural models; maritime, pharmaceutical and dental objects; textiles and embroidered purses; intricate picture frames; boxes; eggs; axes; Aboriginalia and more; all beautifully presented by author and historian, Sarah Engledow, and the MOB install team. Amongst this vast array of objects, I found myself drawn towards individuals who collected objects imbued with personal narratives.
Heading into the exhibition you first encounter Chris Delanoue’s substantial collection of tins and advertising signs, dating mainly from the 1880s to the 1950s. Most of the tins were used for tea and lollies, and they’represented here as a large ‘at home’ kitchen-cupboard-style display. As a fellow collector said, ‘all of us are in awe of this man’s knowledge and holdings and visitors are fortunate to see most of his gems arrayed’ this way.
In the first gallery you find Tony Albert’s collection of objects from the 1950s to 1970s that depict Aboriginal people and designs, referred to by the well-known First Nation artist as ‘Aborginalia.’ Babyboomers and GenXs will be familiar with such objects. When he began collecting these items they were already out of fashion and considered racist. Albert uses objects like these to point to how harmful stereotypes were created and circulated in the past, encouraging people to imagine a better future.
In the end gallery we come across the collection of Malcolm Enright, who has amassed a large number of unique objects in every room of his home, and some of them are here. Enright tells me that, encouraged by his family, he first collected stamps, and continues: “At the age of 11, my mother allowed me to work Saturdays at the antique dealer, Harcourt Howard . . . I had an immersive relationship with the trade and began collecting colonial hand-mades; this led to signs, packaging, furniture, and frames.” Under the banner ‘Urban Archaeology’ he focuses on buying, trading and restoring handmade objects.
Nearby there’s a group of architectural models by Shane Donnelly who made models as a child and later worked as a model-maker in Brisbane. Now he handcrafts tiny houses and buildings and people often ask him to make models for them. His model of the Walter Taylor Bridge reminds us that it’s the only habitable bridge in the Southern Hemisphere.
There’s a wonderful array of mechanical toys from an anonymous collector who started collecting after finding a walking plastic pony in Toowoomba. The toy, made in Hong Kong where the collector was born, reminded him of his childhood. Over decades he acquired thousands of rare toys from the 1950s to the 1970s.
In the middle galleries you’ll see three separate collections of dolls and figurines: Lyn Ryan collects dolls from all over the world (3,500 of them), made of clay, cloth, wire, straw, and plastic; Jaishree Srinivasan and her husband ‘Srini’ have collected Indian figurines, which came from their parents and grandparents in southern India; and then there’s a collection called Shankar’s Dolls with an interesting story. In 1980, Marjory and Jim Fainges opened a doll and toy museum, subsequently creating Australian costumes for 120 Barbie and Ken dolls. When a museum in Delhi heard about this, they asked Marjory to send them dolls in Australian dress and, in return, the Fainges received 40 dolls representing people from different parts of India.
Various collections of clothing and textiles make up a substantial proportion of Precious. Jill Kinnear has travelled the world collecting rare fabrics and clothing items, sometimes taking several days to find her treasures; Irene Hill moved overseas in 1973, purchasing her first beaded bag in Paris, and by 1977 had purchased more than 50; while Lizzie Hilburger, from a young age, bought old beaded purses—she once had about 500 but sold half, keeping only the best. Pamela Easton and Lydia Pearson created the fashion label Easton Pearson in 1989 and in 1997 showed in Paris, receiving many international orders—the Museum of Brisbane holds thousands of their garments in a special collection. From the Pacific there are hand-made wraps, belts, fans, and necklaces that belong to a family who came from the Kingdom of Tonga and now live in Brisbane; and lastly, Aunty Raelene Baker, an Aboriginal Elder, went to Aurukun in Far North Queensland where, in 1971, she met Aunty Nellie Taisman who made the items we find here from handwoven string and old plastic fishing nets.
In the vastness of Precious, we see some collectors with a broad criteria for inclusion, others focus on a subtopic within their area of interest, including collecting items by country or ethnicity. Some have arbitrarily accumulated objects that meet their particular theme, others aim to acquire all of the items in a well-defined set that can, in principle, be completed. In Precious, the monetary value of objects is important to some collectors but irrelevant to others.
Parisian artist Pierre Le-Tan says: “I have owned, I confess, thousands of objects. Even if today most of them are nothing more than memories, I continue to seek, to find, to acquire.” Whatever way you look at collecting, it seems that we’re hardwired for it—along with some other creatures like rodents and bowerbirds. For us humans, collecting is associated with memory and the need, most likely, for our brain to catalogue and organise information and give meaning to our actions and lives.
Ian Were writes on contemporary art, design, and culture and has recently written short stories. Since 1997 he has edited more than 20 art books and publications, including 12 books as a freelance editor.
