Collecting is a way of seeing. It’s not about amassing things—it’s about paying attention.
Collecting is a way of seeing. It’s not about amassing things—it’s about paying attention. When we collect, we commit to understanding a particular set of objects more deeply. We learn the histories, the traditions, the makers, the materials. We begin to recognize patterns and value nuance. The act of collecting is, in itself, a form of care—of connection. It turns objects into relationships
Some collections are inherited, others are self-directed. I began collecting paperweights because my grandmother chose that collection for me. She believed that they were perfect things: small, complete, and beautiful and gifted me my first one for my sixth or seventh birthday. Over time, I came to see them not just as decorative, but as optical instruments—portals of perspective. My collection of blue and white ceramics, on the other hand, started on its own. I was drawn to them intuitively. Over time, I learned about their global lineage—Chinese porcelain, Dutch Delftware, Mexican Talavera—and how this single color palette speaks across continents and centuries.
Every collection is a kind of atlas: of where we’ve been, what we’ve seen, what we’ve noticed. They reflect the mind and the spirit as much as the eye. To collect is to map the world through fascination. It’s a practice of devotion—not just to the objects themselves, but to what they represent: memory, wonder, learning, and love.
Photography by Shawn Chavez