 |
 |
 |
||||||||||
 |
 |
|||||||||||
|
||||||||||||
|
||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| You know the
moment. It occurs suddenly or grows slowly over time until it reaches critical
mass. The force is invisible, yet feels organic and familiar. It is that
singular point in time when you see, touch or read about a pen and decide,
“This must be mine.” The actual function of the pen—to spread
ink—places second in importance, if relevant at all. You don’t
need the pen as a writing instrument, but you want the pen nonetheless.
It tickles you…fascinates you…calls to you. It is an object of
desire that fits some indefinable niche within your life. To possess it
makes sense, and not to have it seems unacceptable. A decision is made to
acquire the pen, and the transaction is final. You smile. For a moment the
world feels whole, good, and in harmony. This is the plight of the pen collector, and I know it intimately. I am a pen lover and collector. I am also an artist and psychologist. Thus I have taken pen in hand to muse upon the connections between my various passions. What moves us to collect? What forces within our psyche motivate collecting behavior? And, why collect pens? One can argue that collecting is as old as animal life itself. Ironically, archeologists make a living collecting items—or fragments thereof— QUEST FOR THE Spirit that our ancestors collected, such as religious icons, jewelry, art, pottery, arrowheads, or anything repetitively made and used. Collecting was not an optional behavior. Indeed, it was necessary to survival. We had to collect wood for fires, berries for food, stone for tools and weapons, skins for clothes, and plants for fibers. The more items of necessity collected, the more secure we felt. Collecting such items required memory of what worked in the past, opportunism in the present, and a vision of needs in the future. A day without collecting was a day without order or predictability. Life would seem more random and devoid of control than it already was. Chaos would take the place of order, and sustaining life would be in serious doubt. Collecting behavior is integrated in our humanity, and this fact is as true today as it was thousands of years ago. For example, what is the first thing you think about when you hear of an impending storm heading your way? At the top of your list is to make sure you have adequate necessities “just in case” the worst should happen. You are likely to stock up on water and food and insure alternative ways of staying warm or providing light, thereby increasing the probabiity of survival and comfort. In other words, your reflexive instinct and subsequent behavior is to collect. This suggests that collecting is a fundamental instinct built into the “collective unconscious” and is so much a part of our psyche that it is not even apparent. In short, we collect because we exist. As societies evolved, so did collecting behavior. Basic supplies and goods needed for survival became more readily available. Simpler life tasks expanded our time and the focus of our creative attention. With discretionary time, we developed interests that had little or no utilitarian value. We began to collect things desired, not just required. And although rooted in instinct, collecting non-essential items was motivated by pleasure rather than need. Plug this evolutionary process into the need to communicate stories and collective wisdom through language and writing, and it takes us from making marks in the dirt with a stick and drawing on cave walls to the current plethora of technology used to communicate ideas and images. Along with this evolution, the pen arrived: an instrument invented to make written communication available, easy and efficient. Surely, the pen’s place in human history is fixed and indelible, since it has been the instrument that enabled many of the defining principles of society and human conduct to be transcribed and disseminated. I believe that whoever defines reality is in control, and the pen, in all of its various forms, has been a primary tool used to make these definitions visible. This fact assures its enduring significance. But what makes a pen collector tick? Psychology uses the word “sublimation,” which is the modification of some kind of natural instinct or impulse into one that is socially acceptable. This is a good thing. For example, we may play aggressive tennis instead of punching someone, or flirt instead of overextending our gene pool. If collecting is a natural instinct, then collecting things like stamps, beer bottles, pottery, watches or any non-survival object is sublimation. We collect Elvis paraphernalia instead of red meat. And perhaps we collect pens instead of bones for tools. Fortunately, this particular sublimation is harmless, interesting, challenging and sometimes profitable. So as human behavior goes, collecting is quite healthy. But there is another aspect of collecting that goes beyond the typical nature-nurture explanation. I maintain that in order to understand pen collecting (or any collecting of this sort), a different vantage point is required. It is my opinion that the point of view that best helps us understand pen-collecting behavior is to see it from the standpoint of imagination. This theory makes two assumptions: the first is that objects possess poetic spirit, and the second, imagination responds to spirit. Your favorite childhood toy is gone, but is active in your imagination. So from the spirit perspective, it is alive. The toy remains alive in spirit as long as our imagination gives it long life. The spirit possessed by an object is activated by the history, story and poetry it holds. Spirit, therefore, is invisible life. A pen aficionado’s imagination is attracted to the qualities of a pen. Such things as design, material, intention, purpose and color make up its poetic spirit. In other words, a coveted pen possesses power (weak or strong) that acts upon the collector’s imagination. Then, the viewer’s imagination reciprocates and acts upon the object. The pen is transformed into a desired object that can hold this power for seconds or over the course of many generations. In a way, it is the same experience as someone momentarily attracted to a beautiful person, versus someone who is deeply in love and can’t keep the one they love out of their mind. What gives one pen a more powerful spirit then another are the stories it tells or creates. The stories possessed by the pen are recognized by the imagination of the person interested in the pen, and his imagination begins to wrap layers of meaning around it. What makes us respond to that spirit is highly individualized and idiosyncratic. For example, I have a fascination with cultural myths, so I find the Delta Indigenous Peoples series of pens of particular interest. My son admires the work of Mark Twain, so the Conklin Crescent filler is the pen I gave him as a gift; perhaps it was also meant as encouragement for him to become a writer. And holding the fountain pen my father used to write his love letters is more fascinating to my imagination than holding any ordinary pen. Look at your own choices of pens. What spirit inside these objects speaks to you? Hold your favorite pen in your hand and try to understand its inherent elements that evoke delight. What story does that pen hold for you? What stories have you given to it? Perhaps the combination of the aesthetics and history of a particular pen spark an interest in collecting all the pens of that era or that manufacturer, for example. Finally, it is important that collecting be fun and arousing. Any activity you enjoy stimulates energy. If it doesn’t arouse your intellect or feed your passion, you may lose interest. Think about it: if you decide to sell a pen, it is likely to be a pen that no longer excites…or, the process of selling the pen turns you on more than owning it. In either event, the importance of having fun or finding some degree of stimulation is a vital ingredient of collecting behavior. The psychology of collecting pens can be described in behavioral, evolutionary or socio-psychological terms. And I do believe these explanations are important, interesting and revealing. In the final analysis, however, they seem unsatisfying. As in any aesthetic moment, when we are lucky enough to encounter profound beauty or experience a moment of awe, life takes flight and soars. That is the moment we seek and pursue. When the spirit joins the realm of the gods, it wants the wonderment to linger. And so it is with pens. We look at them and touch them. We read and talk about them. And we take great pleasure writing with them. We display them so others can gaze upon them. And in our own little way, we place them on an altar and pay homage to an instrument made by skilled hands and human ingenuity…but touched by the divine. |
 About the Author 
 Visit Men Mentoring Men at www.mthree.org |
|
