Freud and FOMO: Why He Obsessively Collected Antiquities and What That Says About His Psyche
Sigmund Freud (1856–1939) occupies a towering position in the history of psychology and psychoanalysis. His theories reshaped our understanding of the human mind, unveiling the depth and complexity of the unconscious in an unprecedented way. But behind the clinical detachment of his consultation couch and his prolific writings, Freud indulged in a personal obsession: amassing a vast collection of antiquities. From Greek, Roman, and Egyptian statuettes to Chinese and Etruscan artifacts, Freud’s office was brimming with these relics of bygone eras. Modern-day discussions about collecting often invoke “FOMO” (fear of missing out), the impulse that compels us to accumulate experiences or possessions to avoid feeling left behind. Although “FOMO” is a 21st-century term, Freud’s intense collecting behaviours could be interpreted as an early analogue of this same powerful drive. In examining Freud’s antiquities collection, we not only peek into his personal life but also glimpse how his theories about the unconscious, desire, and identity might have shaped (and been shaped by) this peculiar passion.
The Scope of Freud’s Collection
Freud’s personal museum comprised thousands of figurines, statuettes, vases, and reliefs from ancient civilizations such as Egypt, Greece, and Rome, along with select items from China and the Near East. They adorned his study on Berggasse 19 in Vienna and later his office in London after his flight from Nazi-occupied Austria in 1938. Visitors recall that Freud’s desk was practically crowded by small figurines, which he frequently touched, rearranged, and used as conversation pieces. Archaeologist Margaret Murray, upon visiting Freud, noted that his collection stood out not just in quantity but in the deep reverence with which he regarded the objects. These relics, from tiny amulets to intricately carved sculptures formed a major part of Freud’s daily life.
In essence, Freud assembled a microcosm of the ancient world in his study. He displayed these antiquities alongside classical texts, archaeological journals, and psychoanalytic treatises. This arrangement is meaningful: it shows how Freud’s interest in human antiquity both literal (in the form of artifacts) and metaphorical (in the form of the unconscious past), intertwined with his professional pursuits. As we shall see, the collecting habit he cultivated was not purely aesthetic or academic; it had significant psychological dimensions.
Collecting as Cultural Capital
Collecting artifacts in late 19th-century and early 20th-century Europe was partly an expression of cultural sophistication and status. Art and archaeological finds were being unearthed at a rapid rate in the Mediterranean, North Africa, and the Middle East. Affluent Europeans and intellectuals often amassed collections to signal cosmopolitan tastes and erudition. This was, in some ways, the era’s version of “FOMO” where collectors scrambled to acquire pieces before someone else could claim them, often motivated by the fear that they might miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime find.
Freud was no exception to this cultural milieu. He maintained correspondence with dealers in Vienna and abroad to secure new acquisitions. Occasionally, he made impulsive purchases, even though his financial resources were more limited than those of aristocratic collectors. Biographies of Freud note that, despite living relatively modestly, he allotted a disproportionate share of funds to amassing antiquities suggesting that possessing these objects brought him gratification and possibly allayed deeper anxieties.
Yet, Freud’s collecting habit diverged from mere social posturing or the typical connoisseurship. Rather than displaying them in a parlor to impress guests, he placed the antiquities within arm’s reach in his study. He was said to handle certain items frequently while contemplating psychological concepts. In his letters, Freud mentioned the aesthetic and tactile pleasure he took in these objects, describing them as companions in his investigative journey of the human psyche.
FOMO and the Anxiety of “Missing Out” on History
While the phrase “FOMO” (fear of missing out) was not part of Freud’s lexicon, there are interesting parallels between the modern-day concept and his relentless pursuit of antiquities. At its core, FOMO is driven by an anxiety that one could be absent from some vital experience or that one’s possessions and by extension, one’s identity might be incomplete. In Freud’s case, some scholars suggest he experienced a version of this. He appeared driven by the possibility that an undiscovered artifact, lodged in some dusty antiques shop or an auction house, might hold the key to understanding or symbolizing something significant about the human experience or about himself.
From a psychoanalytic lens, FOMO can be understood as a response to a perceived lack, an incomplete feeling in the psyche that compels one to “fill the gap.” Freud’s theories revolve around unconscious drives, repressed desires, and symbolic replacements. Objects, especially ancient ones, might provide a safe and aesthetically rich pathway to approach these hidden yearnings. In other words, possessing antiquities allowed him to connect with distant eras and civilizations, tacitly bridging the chasm between his inner world and humanity’s ancient (and often mythic) past. If he failed to acquire certain significant pieces, he might risk leaving an aspect of that symbolic puzzle forever out of reach.
The Symbolic Meaning of Antiquities
Freud famously compared the work of psychoanalysis to an “archaeological excavation,” wherein layers of mental sediment must be carefully brushed away to reveal the deep structures of the psyche. For him, antiquities were tangible manifestations of such layers, artifacts that represented cultural unconscious. Mythological figurines, for instance, evoke age-old symbols of fertility, war, paternity, and mortality, themes that run throughout Freud’s key theories (e.g., the Oedipus complex, the death drive, libido theory). By surrounding himself with such symbols, Freud literally inhabited a symbolic space that mirrored his professional convictions about digging into the psyche’s primal depths.
Moreover, certain pieces in his collection drew from mythological tales that intersected with psychoanalytic concepts. For example, some figurines depicted Oedipus or mythic mothers and father-figures from the Greek pantheon. These objects could serve as daily visual stimuli, reinforcing or even inspiring his explorations of taboo subjects like incest desires, patricide, or the notion of hidden guilt. They might also have functioned as external anchors for Freud’s internal preoccupations, providing a sense of comfort that he was in close proximity to the concrete manifestations of his abstract theories.
Freud’s Self-Analysis Through Objects
Freud’s initial journey into psychoanalysis began with self-analysis. The dreams he recorded in The Interpretation of Dreams (1900) and his subsequent letters to close confidantes reveal how intimately his own psychological struggles shaped his theories. Extending this practice of introspection, it is plausible that he used his artifacts as a form of self-reflective mirror. In the presence of statues from the ancient world, Freud could project onto them aspects of his own psyche his ambitions, desires, or apprehensions and interpret these projections as he might interpret dreams or slips of the tongue.
Projection of Fantasies
According to psychoanalytic theory, projection involves attributing one’s own unacceptable or concealed desires to an external object or another person. Freud may have projected elements of his internal conflicts onto these ancient figures, thereby externalizing them. This transformation could give him the necessary psychological distance to examine his conflicts more objectively.Symbolic Identification
Some psychoanalysts argue that Freud identified with historical “fathers” or revered authority figures ranging from Hannibal (whom he admired) to the Greek pantheon. Collecting statues of gods or heroes might have been a symbolic bid for identification with powerful figures from the distant past. In a sense, owning the statues could represent internalizing the potent energy or mythic resonance those gods carried.Re-enacting Discovery
Each time Freud acquired a new piece, he engaged in a process analogous to making a new theoretical discovery or unveiling a hidden facet of the unconscious. The moment of “uncovering” whether it involved rummaging through an antique store or carefully unwrapping a newly arrived relic paralleled the excitement of excavating a buried psychological truth. Over time, the ritual of adding new artifacts to his study may have fostered a feeling of ongoing personal and intellectual renewal.
The Role of the Pleasure Principle and the Death Drive
Freud’s theories offer two particularly relevant concepts to help illuminate his collecting compulsion: the pleasure principle and the death drive. According to the pleasure principle, humans are motivated to seek gratification and avoid pain or tension. Collecting antiquities could have satisfied Freud’s pleasure principle by providing a repeated sense of reward with each new acquisition an almost addictive emotional high.
On the other hand, the death drive (Thanatos), introduced in Freud’s later work, posits an instinctual inclination toward self-destruction or a return to an inanimate state. How might this relate to collecting ancient artifacts? One could argue that by surrounding himself with relics of civilizations long gone, Freud was aesthetically confronting mortality and decay. Each piece is, in essence, a fragment of something that once was shaped by artisans who have long since died, referencing belief systems that have disappeared into history. There is a paradoxical romance in cherishing what is essentially the product of death and ruin, which may have resonated with Freud’s intricate understanding of human drives, where the longing for life eternally battles the pull toward oblivion.
Collecting as Compensation
One of the fundamental arguments in psychoanalysis is the concept of “compensation” for perceived deficiencies or internal conflicts. For Freud, who spent a great deal of his professional life studying the psychic underpinnings of desire, collecting may have been a means to compensate for intangible, unresolved yearnings. In some psychoanalytic viewpoints, a collector might seek to “repair” an inner sense of loss or lack by physical acquisition. The object becomes a stand-in, providing a semblance of completeness or mastery.
Freud’s life was marked by upheaval, both personal and cultural. As a Jewish intellectual in early 20th century Vienna, he faced anti-Semitic prejudice. He also experienced the trauma of World War I and, later, the threat of the Nazis’ rise to power, ultimately forcing him to flee his home. Against such a backdrop, filling his private space with relics of past greatness could be interpreted as a move to create a stable, timeless enclave, a psychological fortress that shielded him from the ever-changing and often hostile world outside.
An Ongoing Dialogue With the Past
In psychoanalysis, the past is never truly past; it remains active in the unconscious, shaping present behaviour. Freud’s interest in antiquities reflected this fundamental idea. By placing vestiges of ancient civilizations literally within sight at all times, Freud staged an ongoing dialogue with the symbolic inheritance of humanity’s ancestors. The objects reminded him and perhaps comforted him that human instincts, fantasies, and conflicts bear continuity through millennia.
This conversation with antiquity also dovetails with Freud’s concept of the “archaic heritage,” which suggests that modern psyches carry ancestral memories and primal impulses. In a sense, Freud’s daily engagement with ancient artifacts enacted this principle. If the mind retains “archaic” symbols from humanity’s earliest epochs, then collecting was like forging a tangible link to the intangible layers of psychic life.
Criticisms and Alternative Interpretations
Not all scholars view Freud’s collecting habits in purely psychoanalytic terms. Some argue that Freud, as a highly educated European at a time when archaeology was booming, simply developed a refined taste for historically significant works of art. Still others attribute his collecting to intellectual curiosity he used the artifacts to illustrate his writings on symbolism and to spark conversations with patients or fellow academics. Moreover, there is the pragmatic side: Sigmund Freud was fascinated with stories, myths, and historical narratives. Collecting objects that held these stories in physical form was a logical extension of this narrative inclination.
Meanwhile, cultural critics sometimes question the power imbalance inherent in European collecting during that era where artifacts were extracted from their contexts and displayed in Western private collections. However, Freud was not a plundering aristocrat or museum head, and he did pay for his acquisitions. While it does not entirely absolve the ethical debate, Freud’s collecting was arguably smaller-scale compared to institutional looting or colonial extraction. Nonetheless, these broader ethical dimensions of artifact collection remain a point of contention in modern discourse, providing yet another lens through which to examine Freud’s relationship with his antiquities.
The Legacy of Freud’s Collecting
Today, visitors to the Freud Museum in London can see many of his beloved statues and archaeological fragments. The museum preserves the atmosphere of Freud’s final study, showcasing how integral these artifacts were to his intellectual habitat. Curators and psychoanalysts alike continue to comment on their importance not just as decorative objects but as conduits to Freud’s mindset.
Analysing Freud’s collecting compulsion brings nuance to our understanding of his theories. It demonstrates how personal behaviours often seemingly unrelated to formal theorizing can profoundly shape, and be shaped by, a thinker’s core ideas. Freud’s antiquities were more than ornaments; they were active participants in his daily introspection, intellectual stimulation, and emotional regulation.
Furthermore, Freud’s antiquity collection highlights a more universal point: the drive to collect can serve multiple psychological functions. It can soothe insecurities, bolster one’s sense of identity, and tangibly connect one with what might otherwise remain abstract or elusive. In this sense, Freud’s practices anticipate modern notions of FOMO, reflecting a shared human desire to “possess” pieces of the world, whether to stave off existential anxiety or to assert a sense of mastery over one’s environment.
Simply Put
Sigmund Freud’s devotion to collecting antiquities offers a fascinating window into the psyche of one of psychology’s founding figures. At once a product of his cultural moment when archaeological discoveries stoked the imaginations of European intellectuals and an expression of his personal and theoretical preoccupations, Freud’s accumulation of artifacts cannot be reduced to a single cause. Yes, he was participating in the social vogue of owning pieces of antiquity, and yes, his collecting may well have been fuelled by a psychic itch akin to the “FOMO” that drives modern collectors of everything from art to digital tokens.
But beyond these surface parallels, Freud’s antiquities stand as living metaphors for his psychoanalytic enterprise. They remind us of the layered nature of the human mind, the interplay of conscious intention and unconscious desire, and the enduring pull of the past on our present. Far from a mere hobby, the antique figures that populated Freud’s workspace played a vital role in his self-analysis, theoretical musings, and daily rituals. In them, he found muses, companions, and silent witnesses to his quest to excavate the hidden realms of the human psyche.
References
Appignanesi, L., & Forrester, J. (1992). Freud’s Women. Penguin Books.
Freud, S. (1920). Beyond the Pleasure Principle. Standard Edition, Vol. 18. London: Hogarth Press.
Gay, P. (1988). Freud: A Life for Our Time. W. W. Norton & Company.
Jones, E. (1953). The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud. New York: Basic Books.
