From ferret clubs to bog snorkellers and devoted memorabilia hoarders, the Welsh photographer documents the rituals and passions that bind people together.
Why, as humans, are we drawn towards collecting things? There are many reasons, in fact. It could be the thrill of the hunt – that feeling of diving into a bucket of bargains and finding a rare memento you’ve been looking to add to your collection for years. It could also be because of nostalgia, when an object triggers memories from the past; a way to reflect your passion and personality; a way to foster creative stability and structure; or a way to connect with others who share the same passion.
The idea of collecting, and all the niche antics we humans do, is at the core of Callum O’Keefe‘s photography. Across his portfolio, you’ll see a deep dive into collectors and their relationships with their possessions, depicting a mix of flash-lit portraiture and detailed snaps of their items en masse.
You’ll see participants of The Welsh Ferret Club, where the community meets every spring and autumn to share their love of ferrets to win rosettes – the ferrets come with them, of course, with the hopes of winning a prize. There’s also the World Bog Snorkelling Championships, an event that brings people together in fancy dress with the aim of snorkelling through a 60-yard peat bog in Llanwrtyd Wells, south Wales. It happens across a weekend in August every year and is quite the joyous spectacle.
Callum has always been interested in the world around him. He grew up in the Welsh valleys, in Merthyr Tydfil, a once-thriving industrial town. When he was young, he found it boring and preferred the buzz of the city.
But over time, he began to appreciate its beauty. Though he hadn’t picked up a camera before, he decided to study photography at college after being encouraged by a tutor. This is where he discovered his visual language and voice as an image-maker – “I really found a love and a passion for an amazing medium that allows us to document the world as we see it.”
That language became a study into the communities around him, which he says is the “dream scenario” for “someone nosy”. He’s interested in people and their stories, in how communities bring people from all walks of life together, and, importantly, in how such events are beneficial to mental and physical health.
“Whether this is more traditional, like by location, association or passion, I have found that there are communities all over the country that are brought together by their passions and quirks,” he explains. “I have found that if you show interest in someone else’s interests, you can talk for hours and find out so much about subjects and topics that you would so often overlook. This is the thing I find fascinating about documenting people and niche communities.”
Below, we hear from Callum about his latest project, Antiques of the Future, how he finds these niche communities, and the many interesting stories he’s heard about why people do what they do.
Antiques of the Future began as a way of trying to understand your father’s compulsion to collect. How did that personal starting point evolve into the wider project we see now?
My father was a collector who collected all sorts of things, from Coca-Cola and Treitikoff paintings to all things 1980’s. He had a shed at the bottom of the garden that was filled with wonders. I loved it as a kid and never really gave it a second thought; it was so normal, and I thought everyone had a shed filled with collectables at the bottom of the garden.
It wasn’t really until he passed away in 2017 that I thought about his collection or why he felt the need to collect. My brother and I were left with thousands of things to sort through. I sat on the question for a few years, wondering why he collected and how it helped him. The project began as my final major project at university, and I finally decided I wanted to chat to other collectors to see what they got out of it and whether I could relate it to my father at all and understand his reasoning.
I always knew I wanted to take a really broad approach to the project and not play into any misconceptions often shared with collectors. I have found that they are often misinterpreted in the media. I didn’t want this to play into the project at all and wanted to take a non-judgmental approach to see how they got into it and how it has helped them navigate the stresses of everyday life.
How do you go about finding and connecting with the collectors you photograph? What does building trust look like in these spaces that are often so private and intimate?
Collectors populate all sorts of corners of the internet; one of the best things the internet has enabled is communities of like-minded people coming together to share their passions and interests. Integrating into these communities was one of the main ways I found a lot of the collectors; others had previously been photographed for different publications and online features.
Once I found these individuals, it was about finding their contact information and reaching out. I never have a particular aesthetic in mind when searching for collectors; it’s much more about the person.
Having a close personal connection to a collector growing up and telling the subjects the story often lowers their guard, and also being genuinely interested in what they collect and why they do it. It takes time, of course, and I can spend hours with each collector and taking photos is the last thing I do. Most of the time is spent chatting to them over a cuppa and finding out more about their collections, what they do, and how they maintain, document, and catalogue them.
My favourite moment is when I realise I’ve cracked them – most of the former conversations can be mundane and pleasantries, but of all of the collectors I have photographed, there is always one moment their eyes light up, the guard comes down, and they show their vulnerability when talking about their collection and its origin. I then spend time photographing the collection and then finally portraits, when I think the subjects have gained my trust and are most willing to sit for a portrait, which can so often feel vulnerable and honest.
Were there any moments or encounters during this project that completely shifted your assumptions about collecting or the people you were documenting?
Yes, there have been quite a few revelations throughout the project, mainly when looking into the physiological reasoning behind collecting and how people use collecting in their lives, which I linked to my father and has come up again and again when talking to collectors. It’s less of one person, but in all of them, it’s the passion I see in their eyes, and the a-ha moment I have when they finally reveal the counterpoint of their collections and where it all started for them. I see my Dad in them in those moments.
Through making this work, what have you come to understand about why we collect – emotionally, psychologically, even culturally?
It’s a very interesting point that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. Everyone in society collects something, even if they don’t think they do. Whether it’s carrier bags, trading cards, fridge magnets, Tupperware or anything else. The sort of compulsive collecting that I set out to document, I have found, is often related to childhood trauma; it’s a reaction, building a safe place around them, often acting as a portal of nostalgia.
So, in 2007, my Dad sold the majority of his Coca-Cola collection and started collecting toys and other items from his childhood. After looking into this, I found that the majority of his collection was from a time when his Dad was alive, so he used it as a coping mechanism to deal with his father’s death, as a time capsule back to what was possibly the happiest time of his life. This trend has come up again and again throughout the project, linking people’s collections to memories of a happier time.
Tracy, who holds the biggest collection of Harry Potter memorabilia, is a widow, and the last thing her late husband ever bought her was a Harry Potter book, so her collection is her way of getting closer to her husband. David Wilde is a puppeteer and Punch and Judy collector based in London. He had a very close relationship with his grandad, who constantly encouraged his passion and helped him source puppets, which brought their relationship closer.
He has since amassed a collection of over 1,000 puppets and lives in his grandad’s house. Individuals use collecting mainly as an escape. As a project with no end, it’s a constantly moving goal to look forward to and is often their safe space.
What do you hope audiences reflect on when they encounter this series? Is there something you want them to question about their own relationship to objects and memory?
I hope people look at the subject with a new perspective, seeing these people as people with passions like ours, just expressed in different ways. The individuals I have documented use collecting as a coping mechanism, like many of us, and they have just gone further with expressing their passion. They get so much joy out of whatever they collect, and a wealth of knowledge, and I would love for the audience to feel that and get some of the same joy out of it. We are all surrounded by things; it’s the world we live in.
These people have curated their homes to spaces they love being in, which I think is so important. Although it might not be to everyone’s taste, I think there are elements that we can all take from these collectors to make our lives and homes happier and more enjoyable.
