Jessica Oreck

The best place to start a story is at the beginning, so we have to ask – when did you first discover your love of collecting?

My parents say that I started collecting before I started talking.  (Likely some snowball mythology there, but who am I to argue?).   Though my earliest collections didn’t make it to adulthood, collecting remains very much at my core.  Being a collector feels like one of my defining character traits.  It isn’t just objects, but the way I live my life.  The way I travel, the ideas I am drawn to, and most especially the way I work, are all built around patterns and series.  

If you had to pick one item (or type of item) to sum up your entire collection, what would it be?

Wow, that’s a challenging question.  I think part of what makes this place so special is that it doesn’t fit discreetly into any one category.  And there’s a little something for everyone here.  

If I had to pick a type of item, I would say I collect the objects and remnants that fall through the cracks — caught somewhere between belongings and trash — items sifted to the bottom of the junk drawer.

Each of these pieces of trash/treasure hold what I call a “residue of attention.”  All the things they’ve witnessed, the love and use they’ve been afforded, people get to run their fingers through that when they visit.  It feels a little like magic.

How did you come up with the idea for The Office of Collecting and Design, and is it ever difficult to allow strangers to explore all the different objects up close in your collection?

When I first started thinking about the space, I was really just interested in having a well-organized area for all my collections.  I’m a stop motion animator by trade, so a lot of the collections were seeded as props and sets for my short films.  Initially, it was just going to be an extension of my studio.

But, having worked at the American Museum of Natural History for more than 10 years previously, it wasn’t a leap to dream up my own little museum — that would also function as a prop library for my work.

At first, I had a lot of anxiety about people stealing stuff or things getting broken.  But it only took me a couple of weeks to realize that the true value of the space is actually the visitors.  I love getting to watch people light up when they connect with a particular object.  Almost everyone has a moment when they see something here and it unlocks some half-buried memory.  I treasure those moments.  I love getting to see what sparks visitors, hear about their own lives and collections, and in some cases build long-term friendships.

The true delight of these collections is getting to share them.  In this crazy world on fire, it’s so rewarding to hold a quiet space of solace and wonder for visitors.

During our visit we were able to find items that spoke to us and create our own mini collection in a flatlay. It was such a special way to explore a museum and leave with a little memento to remember the experience, how did you think to start these?

Honestly, it was a visitor’s idea!  We had become known on Instagram for our flatlay images (essentially, just a group of objects laid out and photographed from directly above).  Pretty early on, a visitor who follows us on Instagram, came to visit and asked if it would be possible to make their own flatlay.  We had so much fun together figuring out how to make it make sense for more visitors.  And now it is my favorite way of sharing the museum.

I owe so much of the museum to the creative and wonderful folks that visit.

What’s the strangest item in your collection, and how did it come to join your collection?

One of my favorite objects in the museum is something we received as a donation very early on.  It came in a package with a couple of other lovely objects, but this particular piece is just so darn mysterious.  The package had very little information (we now require more info when folks donate). But the note just said that the donor had had it for a long while and thought it would find a good home at the museum.

It is a tiny wooden box, about an inch square, moderately old, maybe ’70’s.  The sides and top are wood-burned with little runes and the letters XNYD.  The lid pivots to one side to reveal a little pocket lined with dried rose petals and what look to be pieces of eggshell.  And nestled in the middle is a tiny desiccated fish.  

1. Have. So. Many. Questions.

But I love that someone made that.  And then someone saved it for many years.  And then someone sent it to the museum.  I often joke that had anyone else received this strangeness in the mail they may have been concerned, considering who might be sending them a death threat.  But to me, it is the perfect object to welcome into the collection.  I can’t imagine it could have a better home.

You mentioned that you get a lot of your items from donations, has there ever been a donation that you weren’t so keen on keeping around? Maybe a box of dolls that felt they had an attachment or some weird vibes?

Like I mentioned above, I pay a lot of attention to what I call the “residue of attention.”   I don’t consider myself a particularly woo-woo person, but having handled so many thousands and thousands of objects over the years, it’s hard to deny that some have a good feeling and some don’t.  We only keep objects with good residue here at the museum.  It’s important to me that when people visit that their main reaction is joy.  There are lots of other places folks can visit to see haunted objects or read about death and destruction, or just give themselves the heebie-jeebies.  But there aren’t a lot of spots for adults to just feel delight.  The fact that I get to go to work every day and watch strangers experience wonder and glee – well, let’s just say I feel pretty darn lucky.