I meant to write another post last weekend, but I was busy running from one local event to another–and I’ve been busy ever since thinking about things and what we do with them.

I began last Saturday by going to the Fall Harvest fest at the historic Streeter’s Inn.  Hosted by The Chili Historical Society, it was a friendly, small-town event.  The kids there enjoyed a variety of games; the adults took in the historic site and wood carving demonstration, and the bargain hunters scoured the antiques, baked goods, and produce.

The Inn’s furnishings and most of the merchandise were, indeed, antiques, and many of the them represented the way life was lived 100 years ago.  Now, most of those things are going into collections–if not at the historic site, in someone’s private stash, hopefully displayed at home (rather than stored away).  Some collectors, of course, actually use the items they collect, but many of us are in the display business, figuratively or literally.

I managed to leave the fall fest with only one new purchase: an adorable dog planter that won’t become a home to a houseplant, but will be housed in my home among a few other canine collectibles.

I showed much less restraint later that afternoon at the Fantastic Findings Sale.  I had to make three trips to the car to make sure that nothing that was bagged up ended up broken up, too, as I continued to shop.  (Oh, it was a weekend for antiquing in Western New York!)

The annual sale at The Rochester Museum & Science Center is always jam-packed with a great variety of items that are either useful or decorative, antique or contemporary, which gave me four reasons to do more than window shop.

With so much to see, I naturally made two or three trips around each sales room.  There were beautiful decorative accessories, like china and crystal, as well as furniture from the past five decades, at least.  There were real antiques there, too, that reflected the styles and interests of past generations.

Needless to say, as The Committed Collector, I was delighted that so many interesting treasures were up for grabs, but I was a little saddened, too, because the only reason those things were available was because whoever owned them no longer wanted them.  

I realize that makes sense when things break or wear out, but things like that don’t end up in sales like this one.  

Likewise, I recognize that in a consumer culture like ours it’s often tempting to say, “Out with the old, and in with the new”–the new color or style or variation that’s being marketed this decade–or even this season.

With such a variety always available and a national penchant for disposable goods, I also understand why downsizing is a trend these days, which, no doubt, helps send donations to sales like this.

Nonetheless, sometimes you can just tell that people don’t want what they have anymore–like the penguin collection at this sale.  I admit I’m assuming the two dozen black and white figurines and gadgets at the sale came from a collection.  Although it’s possible that 10 or 20 different people donated penguins, I’d bet most came from the same donor.

Maybe the collector was streamlining his or her collection; maybe the collector was forced to downsize, or maybe his or her children simply don’t want Mom or Dad’s knick-knacks.  

While all of these situations are understandable, I always feel saddened when I see a collection being dismantled, broken up, and dispersed.

That simply can’t happen with a novel or a movie.  (Yes, I know manuscripts and films have been lost, in part and in total).  Once they’be been created and published or produced, however, they will always exist as a whole.

Collections, however, are more like buildings.  Collections, like buildings, are built from innumerable pieces, but only the very best one constructions are likely to be preserved intact.

Sometimes, building get old, sold off, stripped bare, and knocked down.  Some of the parts might be salvaged and installed elsewhere or reused somehow, but the original building is gone forever, which is often a great cultural loss.

More often, that happens with the collections that people build.  The collections remain whole only as long at the collectors have any say over their things, and that breaks my heart.  

As much as I hate it, however, I’ve come to accept that I can’t save every collection that I come across.  There certainly isn’t enough room at home, and I’ll never have enough money to pay for that much mini-storage (which would defeat the purpose of collecting, anyway).

And even if I get The Collectors museum up and running, that, too, will run out of space–sooner rather than later if all the local collectors I know put their things on display.

I suppose that’s the way of things, like the cycle of life, as this lovely autumn day reminds me.  

Things are bought; a collection grows.  A collection is built, but it must eventually be dismantled, piece by piece, so new collections can be built by the next generation of collectors.

In the meantime, enjoy the things that you already have.

Patti
The Committed Collector

Are you still collecting, trying to streamline, or ready to downsize?  Please leave a comment and let us know where your collection stands.

© 2019 The Collectors of Western New York museum
All Rights Reserved