Collect What You Love: Lessons from Lucy Seiler’s Collection

What the late Lucy Seiler Can Teach Us About Miniatures—and Ourselves

As I continue unpacking the Lucy Ungerman Seiler collection, one thing has become abundantly clear to me: Lucy didn’t collect by rules. She didn’t collect by price.She didn’t collect to impress. She didn’t collect to stay within a single lane or aesthetic. She collected what she loved. And in doing so, she built a collection that feels...ALIVE!.

An Eclectic Eye—and a Fearless Approach

There is a wonderful unpredictability to Lucy’s collection - you'll find fine artisan miniatures alongside whimsical pieces, beautifully crafted furniture next to something playful or unexpected. Carefully executed workshop pieces alongside objects that, one can tell, simply made her smile. At first glance, it might feel eclectic. And while most would consider this an ececltic collection, the more time I spend with it, the more I realize—it’s not random at all. It's personal.

It appears as though Lucy bought what felt right in the moment. What spoke to her. What sparked an idea or fit into a project she was working on—or one she imagined she might explore someday. There’s something incredibly refreshing about that.

She Collected for Herself

What I admire most is how unapologetic her collecting was. Lucy wasn’t chasing trends.She wasn’t worried about what something might be worth later. She wasn’t limiting herself to what she already knew she liked. She was collecting for herself. For her projects. For her curiosity.For her joy. And that gave her the freedom to say yes to things that were a little different… a little unexpected… even a little “out there.” And those are often the pieces that now feel the most exciting.

Expanding the Edges of a Collection

Lucy didn’t just build a collection—she expanded it constantly. She added to what she loved, yes—but she also stretched beyond it. She explored new materials, new makers and new themes. New ideas! She allowed her collection to evolve. And in doing so, she created a body of work that reflects not just taste—but growth. That’s something I think many of us can learn from.

An Invitation to Look Differently

As I begin offering pieces from Lucy’s collection in my auctions, I find myself thinking about how we all approach collecting. It's easy to stay within our comfort zones and to look for the same styles, the same makers, the same categories we already know. But what if we didn’t?

What if, just for a moment, we approached collecting the way Lucy did? With curiosity. With openness. With a willingness to explore something new.

From Lucy’s Collection to Yours

There is something in this collection for everyone. You'll find pieces that will fit beautifully into what you already have—and others that might push you just a little further. Those are the ones I hope you pay attention to. Because sometimes the piece that doesn’t quite “match” is the one that opens up a whole new direction. A new project. A new direction with a new story of creation. A new way of seeing your collection and bringing new miniatures in your world

Collect What You Love

If there is one thing I take away from Lucy Seiler’s collection, it’s this:

Collect what you love. Not what you think you should love. Not what others tell you is important. Not what feels safe. But look for things that brings you joy. What sparks your imagination. What makes you want to build something new. Lucy did that—again and again.

And now, as her collection begins to find new homes, I hope a little bit of that spirit goes with it.

Ready to Explore?

I invite you to take a look at the collection now coming to auction. See what speaks to you. See what surprises you. See what might take your collection somewhere new. Because the best collections aren’t built by following rules. They’re built by following your heart. Learn more about Lucy, take a look at the latest auction gallery and bid now on items in Lucy's collection:

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Meet the Miniaturist: Michael Reynolds — A Story of Art, Legacy, and Imagination

One of the things I love most about the miniature world is that behind every great collection — and every great maker — there is always a deeper story.

When I sat down with Michael Reynolds for my latest of Meet the Miniaturist, I knew there would be history, artistry, and amazing objects in small scale. What I did not expect was just how much this conversation would reveal about legacy, family, and the emotional power of miniatures.

Michael’s journey began early — at just fifteen years old — when he built his mother her first dollhouse. That single act sparked something much bigger.

“For about four years, she and I heavily got into miniatures and began collecting.”

But like many artists, his path wasn’t linear. He went on to build a career in theater as a costume designer, stepping away from miniatures entirely.

“I walked away from it — lock, stock, and barrel.”

And yet, miniatures have a way of calling people back. After retiring from theater, it was his mother — still deeply immersed in collecting — who nudged him to return.

“She said, why don’t you try your hand at going back into miniatures?”

What followed was not a slow re-entry — it was a leap.

From Theater to Tiny Worlds

Michael’s background in theater didn’t just influence his work — it shaped it completely.

“I worked with incredible set designers, prop designers… it all translated. Just on a tiny scale.”

That idea — translation — is key to understanding Michael’s work. His miniatures are not simply small objects; they are staged, composed, and designed with the same visual storytelling sensibility you would find on stage. There is also something deeper at play.

Michael shared that as a child, he had once dreamed of becoming an architect, but severe dyslexia made the technical path difficult.

“I wanted to be an architect… but I could never handle the engineering math. But for some reason, I completely understood scale.”

Miniatures became the bridge — a place where creativity could override limitation.

The Work: Beyond the Dollhouse

Many collectors will remember the impact of Michael’s work on the show circuit — I certainly do. I still recall walking past his table years ago and being completely stopped by what I saw.

One of his most iconic creations — a dramatic dragon bed — has since taken on a life of its own.

“People equate that as my signature piece.”

The piece even crossed into unexpected territory.

“I had a woman message me and ask if it came in king size.”

That moment says everything. His work doesn’t just live in the miniature world — it breaks out of it. Over time, Michael intentionally pushed in that direction.

“I evolved into fantasy pieces and standalone pieces… something somebody could put with other artwork.”

This is where his work becomes especially important in the broader conversation around fine art miniatures — not as accessories to a dollhouse, but as complete artistic statements.

A Collector’s Legacy: His Mother’s World

At the heart of Michael’s story is his mother — a collector whose impact reaches far beyond her own home. Her collection, now in Michael’s care, represents over fifty years of deeply informed, instinct-driven collecting.

“She always treated her miniatures as works of art.”

And she lived that belief.

Rather than confining pieces to traditional settings, she displayed them throughout her home — in curios, on pedestals, integrated into daily life.

“She never really built room boxes… she exhibited the pieces as works of art.”

Her eye was extraordinary, and her timing even more so. She supported artists early — often before they became widely recognized.

“If she found someone she liked, she made absolutely sure she bought from them.”

That approach resulted in a collection that includes foundational names in fine art miniatures — from early pioneers to masters of silver, furniture, and decorative arts.

But what moved me most was not the scope of the collection — it was the meaning behind it. Michael shared a deeply personal story about one piece he plans to keep intact:

“What I love most about collectors is the story behind them… there’s always a backstory that rarely gets discussed.”

In that single statement, he captured something essential about this entire world.

Making, Collecting, and Creating Together

This was not just a story of inheritance — it was a story of collaboration.

Michael and his mother inspired each other constantly.

In one moment that perfectly illustrates this, she purchased an altar and crucifix at auction.

His response?

“That inspired me to actually build the chapel.”

That is the magic of miniatures — one object becomes the seed for an entire world.

His mother was also a maker herself, creating elaborate working chandeliers and lighting fixtures.

“She loved diamonds and shiny things.”

Many were sold, but many more remained — not because they weren’t good, but because she chose to keep them.

“If it didn’t sell, she never put it out again — she just collected them.”

As a result, Michael now holds not just a collection — but a hidden archive of her work.

Creating Without Compromise

When I asked Michael about his process, his answer was as honest as it was revealing.

“If I make something specifically to sell, it’s not remotely as creatively inspired as something that comes off the top of my head.”

That philosophy explains everything about his work.

It’s why his pieces feel unexpected, imaginative, and deeply personal — from fantasy furniture to painted miniatures to entire conceptual environments. Even now, his ideas continue to evolve.

“I’ve become obsessed with owls… I want to make ones where you pull a pin and their head spins.”

That sense of curiosity — of following an idea simply because it fascinates him — is exactly what keeps his work alive.

What Comes Next

At the moment, Michael is focused on completing a novel he has been working on for eight years — a creative pursuit that feels entirely in line with everything else he does.

But he is also returning.

“I’ll be back.”

And for those of us who remember the impact of his work — or are just discovering it now — that is something to look forward to. He is reconnecting with the community, revisiting shows, and exploring what comes next creatively.

Why This Story Matters

What stayed with me most after this conversation is not just the artistry — it’s the reminder of what this world really is. It is not just about objects. It is about memory.It is about storytelling.It is about connection — across time, across generations, across creative lives.

And perhaps most of all, it is about imagination. As Michael said so perfectly:

“Miniatures are where dreams become real.”

And conversations like this remind me exactly why I believe that too.

Unpacking a Life in Miniature: "Everyone Wanted a Piece of Lucy!"

Remembering Lucy Ungerman Seiler

As I continue unpacking the collection of Lucy Ungerman Seiler, I find myself slowing down more than usual. There are estates that are large.There are estates that are valuable and then there are estates like this one—where, with each box opened, I begin to understand the person behind it.

Lucy’s collection is not just expansive—it’s expressive. It reflects a life built around curiosity, creativity, and connection. And the more I uncover, the more I realize that what I’m handling isn’t just a collection of dollhouse miniatures—it’s the record of a life fully lived in the miniature world.

To better understand that life, I spoke with fellow miniaturist Terry Unnold, who knew Lucy for many years. What she shared with me helped bring everything I’ve been seeing into focus.

“Lucy and I would go anywhere for a class”

When I asked Terry how she first met Lucy, her answer came quickly:

“I first met Lucy in our miniature club… Lucy and I would go anywhere for a class, anywhere for a workshop.”

That sentence alone tells you everything. Lucy wasn’t casually interested in miniatures—she was committed to them. She pursued knowledge, technique, and experience with real enthusiasm. Whether it meant traveling, signing up for a new workshop, or learning from a different instructor, Lucy showed up fully. And that spirit is visible everywhere in this estate.

I see it in the pieces she collected and commissioned .I see it in the materials and techniques that may have been used. I see it in the projects that she undertook —those that may have finished and unfinished—and parts and pieces and accessories waiting for their moment.

A house that brought people together

One of the things that struck me most in my conversation with Terry was how often Lucy opened her home to others.

“She shared her home to bring in artists like Bill Langford. That’s a wonder. Not everybody would do that.”

Lucy wasn’t just attending classes—she was helping create them. Hosting them. Supporting them. Her home became a place where miniaturists gathered, learned, experimented, and shared what they loved. Terry described rooms filled with materials, projects underway, and the excitement of new discoveries.

“She always had wonderful arrangements for us… lots and lots of materials to do the class… and then she’d show off everything we’d just gotten at shows.”

That generosity—of space, of time, of enthusiasm—is something you don’t always see. But once you know it, you start to recognize it in the collection itself.

“Everybody wants a little piece of Lucy”

At one point, Terry said something that has stayed with me ever since:

“Everybody wants a little piece of Lucy.”

I asked her why.

“Because she was such a wonderful miniaturist and such a generous person.”

That generosity shows up in more ways than one. Lucy supported artists.She took classes.She collected widely.She shared what she learned. And she didn’t just collect—she immersed herself.

“She was a wonderful student… she really learned and loved to learn techniques.”

A collector who followed her curiosity

As I work through this estate, one of the most striking things is the range. There are fine artisan miniatures.There are class pieces.There are whimsical and unexpected objects.There are multiples—evidence of deep dives into specific interests. Terry helped explain that, too:

“She was always interested in everything new… she never saw a class that she didn’t like.”

And when something captured her attention, she went all in.

“She fell in love with pottery… and immediately she would have to get a kiln and glazes and go on and on.”

That kind of creative energy is impossible to fake.And it’s impossible to miss when you’re standing in the middle of it.

An eye for detail—and a life of design

Lucy’s background as an interior designer shaped everything she did.

“She had a very good feel for color… if she changed something, it wasn’t obvious—it was a good change. She made pieces her own.”

That insight resonates deeply with what I’m seeing. There’s intention here.There’s editing.There’s vision. This isn’t just accumulation—it’s interpretation.

The emotional weight of a collection

There was a moment in my conversation with Terry that felt especially meaningful.

As she described going through Lucy’s things, as she helped her family organize her miniatures, she said:

“It’s been a little bit heartbreaking… I’m revisiting so many things we did together. So many classes we took together.”

That’s what collections hold. Not just objects—but memories. Not just purchases—but experiences. Not just things—but time. And as I continue unpacking Lucy’s collection, I feel that too. There are projects waiting.There are ideas midstream.There are stories still unfolding.

A legacy that continues

What gives me real comfort—and excitement—is knowing that Lucy’s influence doesn’t end here.

“Her legacy lives on. Oh, absolutely.”

Pieces are finding new homes. Materials are being shared. Knowledge is being passed along.And through this process, her collection is continuing to do what it always did:

Inspire. Connect. Encourage.

From Lucy’s world to yours

As I present pieces from the Lucy Ungerman Seiler collection in my upcoming auctions, I’m doing so with a deep appreciation for the life behind them. This is not just a sale.

It’s a continuation. A continuation of Lucy’s curiosity.Her generosity.Her love of miniatures.

And if Terry is right—and I believe she is—

“Everybody wants a little piece of Lucy.”

Now, perhaps, you can find yours!