Critique of Clinical Psychology Review article on Hoarding and Collection
The Clinical Psychology Review recently published an article by Ashley E. Nordsletten and David Mataix-Cols entitled, Hoarding versus Collecting: Where does pathology diverge from play? The article (Clinical Psychology Review 32 (2012) pp: 165 - 176) sets out to underline differences between hoarding and collecting, from a clinical angle. (In parallel to my own research project which examines these issues and their distinctions culturally, psychologically, socially and through interpretive means). I have read the article with much interest and feel it is of huge importance to open up a dialogue here about its content, in particular some of the cultural and object-value related assumptions made.
A criticism of the article from my standpoint - as a researcher with an investment in the values and status applied to materials as related to psychology and attachment - is that, whilst the research and knowledge in regard to hoarding is, of course, beyond my criticism and must be assumed (by me) to be academically upheld, there are generalisations made on a cultural level with regard to collection which are outmoded and highly problematic. These imply that the crossover between the scientific and visual cultures areas may not have been as invested as perhaps they could have been. For my own part, I am working with practitioners and experts across disciplines as it is of paramount importance to my study that I cannot and do not assume knowledge from within the psych-professions. This would be unethical and I acknowledge my own field of reference as lying distinctly within the arts and cultural studies areas of focus. Collaboration is therefore key to the work undertaken on This Mess is a Place.
In terms of a critique of the cultural stance of the article with regard to collection, I want to focus on the subject of value. Most worryingly, with regard to value systems within collection and the arts, the Clinical Psychology Review article professes that 'a piece of fine art, for example, is generally wrought of high-grade materials, often unique, inherently authentic.' As Warhol and Duchamp turn in their graves, I am inclined to briefly make the, incredibly obvious, statement that the grade of materials within an artwork is not in correlation with its economic, social, visual or commercial value. (And, of course, rather redundantly note that the invention of photography and the printing press before it rather put a stop to the argument for uniqueness.) Examples of works referred to within a contemporary discourse of 'collection' may be as diverse as installations by Jason Rhoades (featuring poles, brackets, cheap printer images and other low-fidelity or found materials); Sarah Sze; Noble and Webster and Song Dong (whose installation 'Waste Not' was recently shown at the Barbican's Curve gallery). Fine Art embraces clutter and disorder as a tendency within practice (across media - from collage to performance to installation) and exploits it both commercially and critically.
Jason Rhoades, 2006, Black Pussy Soirée Cabaret Macramé
Regardless of an expansive dialogue on 'authenticity', which would melt this blog post, Fine Art has never, in fact been limited to 'high-grade materials'. Paint and clay (and drawing a line in the rock or sand) being fairly low-grade methods of mark-making available to art-makers since the dawn of time. Neither is collection (or the tendencies of the 'collector') limited to the domestic, a factor which, in itself potentially excites distinctions from hoarding (although the definition also mentions the 'workplace'). To call collection 'play' (albeit possibly knowingly) in the article's title negates the potential in exploring both the value and cross-over tendencies of museology and the creation of social and political histories on behalf of others, the nation or the creation of archives and records of now or times once lived.
The chart included in the article (cited as 'Adapted from Pearce, 1998a,b, p:41) that implicates that non-Fine Art objects or functional items such as mass-produced tourist-ware or tea-towels can be filed under the heading 'Rubbish' is most worrying. These items have not only formed the basis for and been included within commercially valuable artworks for generations (see Sophie Calle's The Birthday Ceremony below as an example of a contemporary piece) but have also, in their own right, and through (often domestic) donation, found their way into such collections as The British Museum, the V&A, the Geffrye Museum or other publicly valued records of how we have lived, worked and tastes have developed. It goes without saying that over centuries, of course, the simple earthenware pot or shaped flint may tell us much about how whole dynasties lived and worked. Importantly, the act of donation or, perhaps, the discovery posthumously of a collection could be said to tie in with the proposed definition of Hoarding Disorder in the DSM-5 with regard to 'the interventions of third parties (e.g., family members, cleaners, authorities).' Can a museum potentially intervene (or clean up) to apply value to a hoard, for example? The Wellcome Collection houses a carefully, methodically sieved version of the obsessions of Henry Wellcome and, as such, gives rise - in this context - to questions about third parties implicated in attribution of value.
Sophie Calle, The Birthday Ceremony, detail, 1980 - 1993
Intriguingly, the art collecting tendencies of New Yorkers Herb and Dorothy Vogel could be said to sit between the camps of collecting and hoarding with regard to both the intrinsic (commercial and critical) value of their art collection and its impairment of their domestic space through (potentially) excessive accumulation and storage issues. Ultimately, their extraordinary art collection was 'cleaned up' by a third party - namely the National Gallery of Art, Washington. There is a conversation to be had here, perhaps, about the (always potentially pathological) individual and (an assumed legitimacy of) the 'collective' - such as the Museum.
There is so much more to be shared between the fields of critical and cultural studies and the psychological sciences on the issues of hoarding and collection as interrelated. I would welcome collaboration(s) and continued dialogue towards expansion of how notions of object value, status and function are at the heart of these correlations.
What is clear from the Clinical Psychology Review article is that impairment is at the heart of the distinctions drawn between hoarding and collecting. My own criticisms are not of this finding but of the language applied to value within the argument sustained and of a fairly pedestrian approach to talking about object status, materials, Collection as a field of research and the implications of third parties. These factors cannot dissuade from the importance of this research into the effects of hoarding on a sufferer and of the potential of articles such as this one to further debate. What I am making a case for, however, is that if definitions within mental health are attaching themselves (through the particularity of this condition) to object relations, that they are sufficiently informed and cross-disciplinary in method.
An interesting (and perhaps distracting) aside to the argument for impairment, distress and lack of functionality as attaching themselves to the hoard as opposed to the collection lies in the case of the mis-stored collection. In the event of the Momart fire (24 May 2004) when many highly valued artworks were destroyed at a West London storage warehouse (including works by Tracey Emin, Jake and Dinos Chapman, Patrick Heron and Helen Chadwick) the accusation is one of inappropriate care taken over storage, an over-full warehouse with overlapping, over-stacked items and therefore a mis-assignment of value to the artworks. The economic value, in many instances, of the works lost (and the knock-on effect of this on those artists' surviving works) has gone up since their destruction.