A Perspective On

Hoarding In Museums

Humans are innately curious beings. They want to better understand the world around them. For some, there is immeasurable value in actively seeking this understanding. Still others are more passive and gain understanding subconsciously. With five senses, humans explore their surroundings by using sight, sound, touch, smell, and maybe even taste from time to time. For the majority of the human race, sight is the primary sense through which they receive stimuli. From this desire for sight to guide an exploration of the world around them, a simple premise emerges. Long before photography, we learned that to see something means you must physically have something in front of you.

Even after the emergence of photography, we learned that not just any visual engagement will always suffice. We are capable of depth perception, meaning we tend to prefer three-dimensional exploration of our environment and its objects. Considering this notion, combined with a tinge of materialism, the impetus for collecting becomes apparent. Collections started out with individuals and later formed into the first museums as centralized gatherings of oddities, curiosities, and the substance of the world around us. They allowed us to see, in three dimensions, objects from near and far. Through museums’ collections, we can engage with visual stimuli and better understand the world around us, even if we cannot not see the objects in their original environments and purposes. Herein lies museums’ unique ability to use collections to educate and inspire.[1] Building upon the human desire to learn, the museum field grew and diversified. Specialized museums from history to the deepest reaches of space developed, with nearly every imaginative facet of curiosity in between. Collections, being the heart of museums, have continued to grow with the museum field. However, while the reaches of human intellectual pursuit are endless, the space allocated for capturing objects that illustrate our world is not.

This dichotomy of intellectual capacity versus physical space creates one of the most challenging dilemmas in the museum field today. Museum professionals often want to capture the essence of everything through objects, as long as it is related to the institution’s mission. These objects capitalize on the human desire for sensory stimuli and facilitate relevancy of the intended message. While the concept of attempting to capture everything is noble in theory, limited resources make this endeavor impossible in practice. Traditional convention dictates that a museum spells out their collections scope in a comprehensive collections plan and then abides by it. Traditional convention has not dictated where the collection should be in size.

Furthermore, the traditional models of “Exceptional” and “Completist” collections encourage oversized collections by attempting to get one or two of as many things as possible.[2] In what has become more prevalent, museums abide by the scope of their collection, but there is not any consideration given to the quality or quantity of that collection as long as it all fits the mission and collections plan. The result, institutional hoarding, is a serious impediment to the efficiency and continued operations of many museums around the world. When a person pursues a relationship with objects that is unhealthy, unsustainable, and causes distress and impairment, they have crossed the threshold for clinical diagnosis of hoarding.[3] The same applies to institutions.

For museums, hoarding has no finite quantity to qualify, but universally implies collecting beyond the means of the institution to function properly. For the largest organizations, millions of items might be in the inventory without approaching a characterization as hoarding. For the smallest, one thousand items might push the museum past the threshold. Regardless of size, or budget, the concept of collecting as much as possible likely leads to massive amounts of resources being dedicated to the proper housing and seemingly perpetual care of items. Built structures, environmental controls, and staffing are major draws on organizations that are likely underfunded to begin with. Studies have suggested that on average, sixty percent of museum’s resources are spent on acquiring, storing, and caring for collections.[4] Many of the collected items will never see the light of a gallery because there is simply too much for the exhibit space to showcase.

 When these resources dedicated to collecting become an impediment to other functions of the organization, collecting has become hoarding.[5] Beyond that, it becomes obvious that the professional morale of collections managers is depressed when they speak of the excessive burden of oversized collections. Whereas there was once bragging about collection size, the discussion of quantities is becoming more of bemoaning a collection size. The problems may have started long ago in an institution, but the problem is not self-correcting, nor is it rectified by wasting even more precious donor capital on new structures and more people to house, organize, and care for the collection. The problem of hoarding is resolved through a change in the institution’s collection philosophy and requires a concerted effort from all involved parties.

Once the problem has been identified, a new philosophy must be implemented that puts maximum emphasis on the selective in selective collecting. In doing so, the museum approaches “activating” their collection and allowing it to work for its room and board. First, the collections plan will need a massive overhaul to provide guidance for existing and future staff, along with those board members with shorter than ideal memories. It is unlikely that the staff who are constantly overwhelmed by an oversized collection will forget the solution in the near future. On the other hand, board members are distanced from the issue and more likely to revert to the status quo of the old plan. This is not to say that the board members are lax, but rather, it will be their constituents who have come to know the old plan and try to thrust the museum back into the role as the communal attic.

Next, the new concept must stop the continued acceptance of overwhelming numbers of new objects. In theory, this part sounds easy, but in reality, it is not. It is upon the staff and board to help the stakeholders and community understand the necessity of the new philosophy as anyone attempting to donate an item likely is already convinced their piece is museum quality and of utmost importance. Unfortunately, everything cannot be of utmost importance and the organization must make some difficult choices. This is then followed by the equally difficult task of telling donors that you will not be accepting their “treasures.” In implementing this approach, the flood of new items can be slowed, yet those select items that are bound for a vibrant and productive life of storytelling at the museum can still be accepted.

Finally, and arguably the most important, the new collections policy must allow for the deaccession and proper disposal of items already in the collection. If the collection is already a hoarder’s paradise, stemming the incoming items only prevents further degradation of the museum’s function. It does not the address the magnitude of the collection that led to the development of the new concept. To conquer the challenge of thinning the collection, the museum must fully engage what may be the most difficult individual task. Setting free pieces that have been within the collection for as long as anyone can remember is not for the feeble. If the object is “lazy” and not working for the museum, that is it has never been used or displayed, then it is a freeloader needing evicted.[6] The removal of unproductive and excessive items can be done tactfully, but still will not be free of drama. There are public perception issues, donor relations issues, board-staff cohesiveness issues, and other potential problems that closely follow disposal of items that have long been institutional assets. Nevertheless, this is the only path forward to the promise land of manageable collections and the museum must keep the public, board, and stakeholders informed of the parasitic nature of these items in relation to the museum’s overarching mission.

The end result is to keep the items that are the most powerful in conveying the museum’s mission. In order to overcome this challenge and emerge with an active collection, rather than a hoard of objects, the museum must address the most pertinent issues standing in the way of removing items. Commonly, these include some form of: questioning the decisions made, losing control of what is collected, emotional attachment, fear of making mistakes, responsibility to the donors (guilt), simply overthinking the process, pushing the burden on down the calendar, or making cases for the potential future usefulness of an object.[7] It is because of the complexity and severity of these individual sentiments within each person involved that a committee should be tasked with the thinning process if at all possible. A single person in more likely to stumble on one or more of these impediments and halt the entire process, dooming the museum to continue its hoarding until a later date with even more excess items.

Each of these issues impeding removal of items is a serious matter and must be given due diligence, but the last deserves special consideration in the context of thinning collections as a field. Superficially, arguments for the potential usefulness of an object might be disregarded as an attempted justification for its continued care and housing. However, when you consider the overarching mission of all museums to serve their audiences, the argument gains leverage. The problem arises when selective collecting becomes overly selective collecting. When you consider the evolving needs and wants of the community the museum serves, it means changing times necessitate changing prioritization of objects to be kept and shown.

Previous generations of museum personnel already chose to neglect preservation of minority, women, and general layperson related artifacts due to some measure of more selective collecting. In more cases than not, the collecting was selective of objects only related to the wealthy, white, powerful, and frequently male. Today, as museums attempt to reconcile with these shortcomings, there are fewer artifacts to illustrate the stories that need telling. With the shortage of historic artifacts related to the past of large segments of museum-going audiences, the result is an alienation and lack of equity within the museum.[8] To date, there is no mechanism that will allow us to see who, what, where, why, and when the shifting importance of artifacts will rise to prominence, so the museum field must do the best it can with what it has. Without fully digesting what we discard, what we refuse to accept, and what value each might have, the museum field risks becoming reactionary and falling into the established continuum of lacking appropriate items to tell stories with relevance to future audiences. We become dependent on the public to preserve these items so that we can collect and display them in the future IF the missions of museums shift towards those items in the future.

This converse approach only serves to show how complex the issues with collections can be and is not intended to argue for collecting of what may become important in the future. The museum field needs only consider what has been done and what its effects were. There is no one-size-fits-all solution to determining what should be included and what is discarded. That falls to a case-by-case situation and is heavily dependent upon the institution and museum professionals to conduct themselves in a manner that reflects professional good faith towards the objects, but more importantly, towards the people they serve.[9]

Thinning an oversized collection, or preventing one, is certainly difficult. However, it is not impossible and the rewards for such are often proportionate to the investment, although the rewards may not be as blatantly visible as the struggles. Hoarding does not serve the best interests of the people, or the objects. It serves only the few who continue to push for indiscriminate collecting. If the museum field as a whole adopts the concept of activating a collection through thinning, the hidden objects removed from one museum can become far more active and productive in another place with a different mission and different audience. The busines model for museum is already difficult. Few successful business endeavors involve holding ninety percent or more of your inventory out of reach of audiences. Further complicating the museum model, museums are often reliant on the generosity of others to support their mission. From these resources, upwards of sixty percent goes to housing and caring for the objects out of sight to the public. This is not a practical, or sustainable method of maximizing the available resources. 

Humans innately want to learn and experience the world around them through objects. As it is, humans are visual creatures and want to maximize their ability to see objects three dimensionally. To capitalize on this instinctual appeal to audiences, museums must activate their collections and make them visible. For a museum to maximize its resources into an impact on their audience, it must focus resources on the people instead of hoarding storerooms of subjective “maybe and maybe nots.” With an oversized collection, and active hoarding, there are severe impediments to making the most of precious resources. Materialistic collecting gluttony restricts the museum’s operation. Inefficiency leads to inability. The museum field must take control of collections and use the limited resources available to feed the cravings of the audiences, not the appetite of the monster freeloading back in the comfort of 70° and 40% relative humidity in the collections facility.

[1] Charles Hummel, “The Role of the Registrar in the Museum’s Web” in Museum Registration Methods, eds. Rebecca A. Buck and Jean Allman Gore (Washington, D.C.: The AAM Press, 2010), 17.

[2] Benjamin Filene, “Things in Flux: Collecting in the Constructivist Museum” in Active Collections, eds. Elizabeth Wood, Rainey Tisdale, and Trevor Jones (New York: Routledge, 2018), 131-132.

[3] Gail Steketee, “Hoarding and Museum Collections” in Active Collections, eds. Elizabeth Wood, Rainey Tisdale, and Trevor Jones (New York: Routledge, 2018), 49.

[4] Trevor Jones, “A (Practical) Inspiration: Do You Know What it Costs You To Collect?” in in Active Collections, eds. Elizabeth Wood, Rainey Tisdale, and Trevor Jones (New York: Routledge, 2018), 49.

[5] Gail Steketee, “Hoarding and Museum Collections” in Active Collections, eds. Elizabeth Wood, Rainey Tisdale, and Trevor Jones (New York: Routledge, 2018), 55.

[6] Anne Jordan, “Tidying Up Museum Collections” in Active Collections, eds. Elizabeth Wood, Rainey Tisdale, and Trevor Jones (New York: Routledge, 2018), 55.

[7] Gail Steketee, “Practical Strategies for Addressing Hoarding in Collections” in Active Collections, eds. Elizabeth Wood, Rainey Tisdale, and Trevor Jones (New York: Routledge, 2018), 122-123.

[8] Rainey Tisdale, “Objects or People?” in Active Collections, eds. Elizabeth Wood, Rainey Tisdale, and Trevor Jones (New York: Routledge, 2018), 22.

[9] Rainey Tisdale, “Objects or People?” in Active Collections, eds. Elizabeth Wood, Rainey Tisdale, and Trevor Jones (New York: Routledge, 2018), 21.