Barbed wire, dolls, first editions, baseball cards and dinnerware have achieved a post-Marxist transmutation from use value to exchange value in becoming collectibles. The emphasis, however, is on acquisition and sales as much as appreciation and process— while collectors range from connoisseurs to middle people, the framework of collectionism in late twentieth-century America was that of the market rather than the Medicis.

The range of objects amassed, sorted, evaluated and disposed of maps out not only the commodities of American life, but also its history—celebrities, events from Civil War memorabilia to the Titanic, antiques and ephemera made rare by their use and disposability: Avon cosmetic bottles, advertisements, playing cards and beverage cans.

They may be held and used within private circles, maintained in constant commercial motion or converted, in some cases, to the stuff of museums.

While stratification of culture and cash differentiates those who specialize in Monet from those concentrating on license plates, both follow a logic of reproduction and accumulation within industrial America, while they also reflect a nostalgia for a period of still local mass production—iron toys made in nineteenth-century factories speak of production and consumption on a scale very different from McDonald’s daily output of toys worldwide. Collection implies uniqueness and limitation, although both are called into question as catalogs and home-shopping channels flog newly minted collectible items, from dolls to signed sports and Star Trek memorabilia. Often, past items are also taken as indices of economic growth—juxtaposing millions for De Kooning or Jasper Johns with the sale of an original Barbie, or the speculative market (via catalogs, Internet and classified ads) for Beanie Babies in the late 1990s. Production may at least temporarily collapse a collectible market; yet this in itself may yield a secondary nostalgia further down the line.

Yet, the meanings of collectionism transcend the market. Collections can shape social lives spent in weekend searches through antique stores, flea markets and other resources, as well as demands for home care and display. Collectibles also form the cores of social networks and collectivities—Trekkies as well as Picasso owners reinforce identities through dialogues and memories as well as objects. Americans can find who they are through what they own (and what ownership they display). Hence, Laurie Rozakis’ Complete Idiot’s Guide to Buying and Selling Collectibles (1997) notes that “Collecting something special, something that you have selected, allows you to express yourself.

Your collection shows the world you are special.” (1997:9). To rethink the collections donated to the National Gallery or the Metropolitan, as well as family room displays of beer cans raises intriguing questions about identity itself.