The pleasure of a very small collection
Four eggcups, none of them matching. A few postcards with handwritten messages on the back. The little ceramic birds you keep noticing at flea markets. A collection doesn't have to fill a cabinet to be worth having.
It can begin with the things you already own and would be sorry to lose. Maybe you've been keeping them in different drawers, where each one looks like an odd leftover. Put them together and you may see the connection: a color, a shape, a place you've returned to, somebody's sense of humor.
Small objects can reward a close look. Sarah and Eleanor Hewitt collected buttons for their museum during their travels in Europe. Cooper Hewitt's account of the collection includes buttons with tiny scenes and even insects preserved under glass. Something that might disappear on a coat becomes interesting when you stop to study it.
Your collection doesn't need a museum's reason for existing. If you love striped pottery, that's a perfectly good starting point. Be specific about what catches your eye, though. Is it the stripe itself, a particular blue, or the brushwork? That distinction gives you something to notice the next time you're browsing. It also makes it easier to admire a piece and leave it where it is.
At home, try a setting where you can see the details. Put the eggcups on a narrow kitchen shelf instead of spreading them across a large bookcase. Set the ceramic birds on a low tray where their different shapes are visible. A little empty space between pieces can help you enjoy each one, especially when the objects are small.
You can display only a few favorites and keep the others put away. Change the group when you feel like seeing something different. There isn't a required number of pieces, and the collection doesn't have to keep growing. Sometimes the next interesting addition is a scrap of information: who made a cup, what a postcard's building looks like now, or why your grandmother chose that particular souvenir.
Keep those stories somewhere. A note in the drawer or a photo with a short caption is enough. Write down who gave you the object and the detail you wouldn't want to forget. 'Bought with Dad after the ferry ride' may matter much more to you than a catalog description.
And if friends start bringing you anything remotely related to your collection, it's kind to be specific. You collect tiny wooden boats, perhaps, but you don't need a nautical bathroom. Tell them which part you enjoy: looking for the pieces yourself, learning about them, or remembering where each one came from.
Leave a favorite where you can actually see it. The postcard with the crooked handwriting deserves an occasional turn at the front.
