What moves the collector? ‘The avid collector who seeks acceptance or status, that is really a pattern’

Pieter ter Keurs (67) is not only interested in other people’s collections. The cultural anthropologist and professor of museums, collections and society at Leiden University also likes to collect. He can never have enough of books in particular. There are a few hundred of them in his office in the newly renovated Arsenal building, only a fraction of his total collection. On the day of the interview, Ter Keurs is just busy putting them in moving boxes. He’s going to retire soon, that’s why.

In the year prior to his retirement he wrote Collecting: the urge to possess, a study aimed at a broad audience – exploration is actually a better word – of the psychology behind collecting. One of the recurring questions in the book is why certain people surround themselves with certain things. That is a question that, according to Ter Keurs, is rarely asked in collecting literature: ‘Most books about collecting are hagiographies about the collector, which emphasize how special his collection is. However, I wanted to write about the motivations behind such collections. Why do we do this gathering of objects?’

And why?

‘Collectors usually say: just because I like it. Aesthetics is indeed an important driving force. Frits Liefkes, the collector of Indonesian art with whom I had regular contact as a curator at the former Museum of Ethnology in Leiden, placed a new acquisition in a place of honor in his living room and was able to enjoy it for weeks.

‘Many collectors are guided by beauty, but unconsciously all kinds of psychological motives also play a role. A need for security, for example. By surrounding ourselves with things that we find special – trains, paintings, whatever – we create an environment that feels heavenly. We create a barrier between ourselves and the chaotic outside world.’

Does everyone need such a barrier?

‘Yes, I think collecting is a fundamental human trait. Creating a familiar environment is a global phenomenon. Nomadic peoples obviously have less stuff, but they also build up collections. On the Moluccas – not a nomadic people by the way – you see that the traveling salesmen who traveled from island to island always carried a small ancestor statue with them because it gave them a feeling of familiarity. On my travels through Indonesia and Papua New Guinea I caught myself doing similar rituals. I always unconsciously displayed my toiletries in the same way in hotel rooms.’

Many of the collectors in your book had a difficult relationship with the outside world or lacked something in their youth. Does a strong urge to collect come from trauma or emotional loss?

‘I don’t know if you can generalize that so much. Some collectors in the book did indeed see a therapist, but they may not be representative of the passionate collector in general. You do see that many avid collectors have a strong urge to distinguish themselves. The avid collector who seeks acceptance or status through his collection, that is really a pattern.

‘For example, in my book I write about Sir Thomas Phillipps, an obsessed book collector. He was an unpleasant, but also sad man. He was conceived by the housekeeper, which prevented him from having contact with his biological mother as a child, and as an adult he was not accepted by the British aristocracy, with whom he sought to join. He tried to prove himself through his collection, and he completely succeeded. His collection was so large that he needed 230 horses and 160 men to move it for a move.’

For such pathological collectors, is there a connection between the concrete collection and the nature of the loss?

‘There are indications for that. For example, the psychoanalyst Peter Subkowski, whom I quote a lot, writes about a gentleman who obsessively collected books by important political leaders. This man had a dominant mother and a silent father, and was also dyslexic and was therefore often told in his youth that he was stupid. To compensate for that, he started reading a lot – about dominant men.

‘When I look at my own life, I also see connections. I’ve often wondered why I like collecting books so much. This is undoubtedly because I went to college and was curious, but what also played a role is that as a young man I was extremely withdrawn and shy, and often worried about what on earth I should do with my life. I then thought: maybe being a study room scholar is something for me. Ultimately I became a real field worker, but my younger self tried to control the outside world by absorbing it through books.’

You also write about collections of institutions, such as the Leiden Museum of Ethnology (now Wereldmuseum Leiden), where you worked. How decisive were the whims of individuals in the formation of such collections?

‘Very decisive. Policy plans were also written in the 19th century, but virtually none of them were realized. The traveling museum curator is a post-war phenomenon, isn’t it? Before that time, curators were generally study scholars. They were dependent on what collectors in the field offered them. And these collectors, often missionaries or army generals, collected what interested them. If they liked weapons, the museum got weapons. That is why the depots are still full of spears and swords.’