The idea for this post was born within the walls of the University of Bari, during a course on Europeana that I had the pleasure of teaching. It was specifically the dialogue with the ideas of Nicola Barbuti that triggered a reflection in me: what truly defines an “artifact” today? We are used to thinking of marble statues or Roman amphorae, but the reality surrounding us is rewriting the boundaries of cultural heritage.
Walking along our beaches, we might stumble upon an equally significant find: a 1970s sunscreen bottle or a perfectly preserved old detergent container. Projects like Archeoplastica and the Cannon Plastic Museum present us with a necessary question: can a plastic object, born to be ephemeral, be considered cultural heritage?
The Archaeology of the Everyday
Archaeology is not just the study of the distant past, but the analysis of human traces. Projects like Archeoplastica have transformed “waste” into an “artifact.” When an object ceases to be functional and begins to tell a story, a metamorphosis occurs. As often highlighted in Barbuti’s reflections, cultural heritage is not a static entity but a social construct: it is the value we assign to objects that turns them into “heritage.”
What is “Heritage,” Really?
We must move beyond the idea that heritage is only what is “beautiful.” Plastic shaped 20th-century society, democratizing design and radically changing our domestic habits. A plastic object that was part of daily life, leaving behind memories and marking an era, is—for all intents and purposes—material culture. Preserving it means documenting who we were and how we lived. It is not just matter; it is a vessel for collective memories.
The Preservation Paradox
Here, a fascinating technical aspect comes into play: plastic is designed to last for millennia in the environment, but ironically, many historical polymers are fragile and degrade rapidly when exposed to light or oxygen in museums. In this context, digitalization and rigorous cataloging become essential. If the physical object is destined to crumble, its “digital identity” and its story must be saved for future generations.
Beyond the Database: Europeana and the Future Data Space
If digitalization represents the cure for the physical fragility of matter, European infrastructures are the place where this digital memory becomes alive and interconnected. During the course in Bari, we extensively explored the importance of Europeana, which is currently undergoing a crucial evolution: it is no longer just a consultation portal, but the hub of the new Common European Data Space for Cultural Heritage.
This transition marks a massive leap in quality. Thanks to the adoption of semantic models like the EDM (Europeana Data Model), a “humble” find from the Archeoplastica catalog can finally engage in dialogue with the collections of major national museums. This creates an interoperability that allows for cross-sectional research on European material culture, where the industrial design of a bottle carries the same documentary dignity as an ancient artifact.
Furthermore, the Data Space is decisively pushing toward high quality and the creation of 3D digital twins. For plastic, this approach is revolutionary: it allows us to study trademarks, textures, and polymer imperfections without risking damage to the deteriorated original. It is a form of data democratization that allows the “history of the everyday” — often ignored by large institutions — to take its rightful place alongside great masterpieces, offering a finally complete and unfiltered view of our social evolution.
Emotional Memory vs. Environmental Impact
However, the postmodern era presents us with an unresolved dualism. On one hand, there is nostalgia: that brightly colored toy or that talcum powder container immediately transports us back to childhood, evoking a world that, through our children’s eyes, appeared simpler and more reassuring. On the other hand, awareness sets in: those same objects, so dense with memories, are tangible proof of an unsustainable consumption model that has changed the face of the planet.
The plastic museum, therefore, does not celebrate the material itself but transforms it into a powerful educational tool. Seeing a fifty-year-old object still perfectly intact helps us visualize the real problem of pollution better than a thousand charts. The artifact stops being just a piece of history and becomes a warning for the present.
The Museum as a Monitor of Civilization
Ultimately, musealizing plastic means recognizing that we live in the Anthropocene, an era in which human impact has become a geological force in its own right. These objects are the “index fossils” of our time.
Recalling Nicola Barbuti’s vision, cultural heritage has the vital task of connecting the past with the future. If we ignore these “historical wastes” today and fail to preserve them through the most advanced digital technologies, we will lose the opportunity to tell those who come after us not only about our ingenuity but also about our deepest mistakes.
A Personal Reflection
As I was explaining to my students in Bari how metadata can save the memory of an object, I realized that our work isn’t just about “data” or “technology.” It’s about responsibility.
We are the first generation of heritage professionals who must decide how to manage the legacy of a material we have learned to hate, but which defines us profoundly. Teaching Europeana and reflecting on projects like Archeoplastica reminded me that beauty is not the only criterion for preservation: truth is as well. And the truth of our era is synthetic, colorful, and incredibly resilient.
My commitment, and what I hope to have passed on in the classroom, is to not let this memory crumble. Whether through a European data space or a display case in a plastic museum, we have a duty to preserve even our mistakes, so they may become the foundation for a more conscious future.
And you? Which “waste” from your daily life would you save in a data space to tell future generations who you are?