Nov 27 2008
by Joshua Platt
Autograph
Magazine
Autographs on
the Brain
The Psychology
Behind the
Compulsion to
Collect
May was
national
mental
Health
Awareness month.
The occasion got
me thinking
about the state
of my own mental
health as I
pondered my
autograph
collection. I’ve
got autographs
on the brain,
you might say.
Autograph
collecting is a
wonderful hobby
that affords a
creative outlet,
a connection to
history and an
opportunity to
bask in the
beauty of the
written word. It
provides
something of a
social
connection; most
of the
collectors I
know are
generous,
knowledgeable,
friendly people.
For those of us
fortunate enough
to obtain
autographs in
person, the
hobby also
provides us with
an intimate,
tangible
reminder of a
notable
encounter.
But, what is it,
specifically,
about an
autograph that
turns the
average person
into an
autograph hound?
“A signature
just sits there,
reminding its
owner that he or
she is not
worthy of being
asked to sign
anything more
than a VISA slip
or a passport
application,”
writes Todd
Babiak in a
recent article
in The
Edmonton Journal
titled
“Autograph
Hounds Missing
the Signs:
What’s the
Appeal of a Name
Scrawled on a
Scrap?”
What is it about
writing on paper
that drives many
collectors,
myself included,
to become
slightly—or even
extremely—obsessive
at some point in
their hobby
experience? The
question
occurred to me a
while back in
the middle of
the night.
Sitting in the
glow of my
computer
monitor, I was,
as the headline
of a recent
article in
Fine Books &
Collections
suggests,
“Shuddering at
Incompleteness.”
At the time, I
was prowling the
Internet, bleary
eyed from a lack
of sleep,
attempting to
find out what
far-flung,
independent-league
baseball town
Jackson Melian
and Jim Mann
might be playing
in. Melian was
the
once-highly-touted
Yankees
prospect, and
Mann was the
journeyman
right-handed
pitcher, perhaps
best known for
once being
Johnny Damon’s
roommate. The
reason these two
ball players
tormented me is
simple, really.
They are, you
see, the last
two signatures I
need to complete
my 2004 Columbus
Clippers
autographed team
set. As I sat
and thought, I
wondered if all
collectors are,
to some degree,
slightly
off-kilter?
A fixation with
autograph
collecting is
hardly the kind
of “debilitating
anxiety
disorder”
normally
associated with
Obsessive
Compulsive
Disorder. Few
autograph
collectors I
know have
“intrusive and
unwanted
thoughts and
repeatedly
perform tasks to
get rid of the
thoughts,” as
WebMD suggests
those with OCD
might. Nor do
most collectors
repeatedly lock
doors or scrub
their hands to
“prevent or
reduce distress
or prevent a
dreaded event.”
Anecdotal
evidence
suggests,
however, that
dedicated
collectors do
exhibit some
symptoms of OCD.
I have only to
look in the
mirror to see
Exhibit A. I
can’t help but
think that
surfing the Web
at 2 a.m.,
desperately
Googling a
“missing”
baseball player,
does
qualify as
“significantly
interfer[ing]
with [a]
person’s work,
social life or
relationships,”
as the
Obessive-Compulsive
Foundation’s
website
describes OCD
symptoms.
Even if they are
compulsive, I
know I’m in good
company when it
comes to my
collecting
habits.
OCFoundation.org
states that OCD
sufferers face
symptoms that
“cause distress”
and “take up
time (more than
an hour a day).”
My friend,
Jason, will skip
work to hound
baseball players
for autographs
as they come off
the team buses
at Cooper
Stadium in
Columbus, Ohio.
(I know this
because I often
join him,
plotting my day
around the
arrival of the
team bus.) If
Jason doesn’t
get the
autograph of the
star du jour,
he’ll become
quite agitated
and upset for
the remainder of
the day. On more
than one
occasion, Jason
has told me,
with more than a
hint of distress
in his voice,
that he’d rather
quit collecting
than face life
with an
incomplete team
set.
Jeff, another
‘grapher I know,
only collects
cards signed in
blue ink. I once
got a card
autographed for
him in black
pen. He became
irate and threw
the card in the
trash, rather
than adding a
dreaded black
inker to his
collection. I
later learned
that Jeff
includes a blue
fine point
Sharpie with
every
through-the-mail
request he
sends.
These
compulsions are
not limited to
sports autograph
collectors in
central Ohio.
Think of a
collector you
might know who
is relentlessly
pursing a
complete set of
signatures—of
anything:
presidential
signatures,
moonwalkers,
signers of the
Declaration of
Independence,
Academy Award
winners, Beatles
album covers,
first edition
Steven King
novels. They all
expess (at
least) slightly
compulsive
behavior. And
the obsession is
not even unique
to autograph
collectors.
Steve Cyrkin,
the publisher of
Autograph,
told me of a
friend—a
luminary of the
numismatic
world—who has
boasted that
he’d “go without
sex or food for
a good coin.”
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