When objects collect meaning

Part two

Over the past few months, I have found myself returning to the same question again and again. Not because I have an answer, but because I keep encountering signals that suggest the question may become increasingly relevant.

In the first article of this series, I explored how the hospitality sector appears to be moving from a culture of replacement towards a culture of stewardship. Hotels are becoming more interested in transparency and sustainability. Designers are increasingly considering repairability, adaptability and future reuse. Digital Product Passports are creating new possibilities for documenting products throughout their lifecycle. Together, these developments suggest that value does not automatically disappear when a renovation takes place or ownership changes hands.

Yet the more I reflect on these developments, the more I wonder whether preserving value is only part of the story.

What if value can do more than survive a change of ownership or context? What if, under the right circumstances, it can actually accumulate?

Beyond material value

When we talk about value in design, we tend to focus on origins. We evaluate craftsmanship, material quality, environmental impact, certifications and manufacturing processes. Increasingly, we also seek transparency through tools such as Digital Product Passports, which promise to make information about products and materials more accessible throughout their lifecycle.

All of these elements are important. They help us understand where a product comes from and what resources were required to create it. They help us make more informed choices and provide greater transparency throughout the value chain.

What they do not necessarily tell us, however, is what happens after the product enters the world.

Consider two identical chairs. Both are manufactured in the same factory, made from the same materials and installed in the same hotel on the same day. Ten years later, the hotel renovates. One chair quietly disappears from view and nobody ever hears about it again. The second chair moves to a cultural centre, later becomes part of a restaurant interior and eventually finds its way into somebody's home.

From a material perspective, the two chairs remain remarkably similar. Yet intuitively, many of us sense that they are no longer exactly the same. One chair has accumulated something the other has not: a visible history of continued relevance. It has demonstrated an ability to adapt to changing circumstances and remain valuable across multiple contexts.

That difference fascinates me because it suggests that value may not be limited to materials, performance or financial worth. There may be another layer of value that emerges through use, continuity and context.

When meaning becomes value

One of the most interesting insights I recently encountered during a Circular Economy Transition Manager course, challenged a common assumption about why products reach the end of their life. In the furniture industry, a significant proportion of products are discarded while they remain perfectly functional. They are not replaced because they have stopped working, but because tastes evolve, brands reposition themselves, interiors are refreshed or users simply want something different.

This observation suggests that products often lose their place within a context long before they lose their usefulness.

Research into emotional attachment and product longevity points in a similar direction. Our relationship with objects is influenced by much more than functionality alone. Products can help us express who we are, connect us to a community, evoke memories or simply bring us pleasure. These meanings shape the emotional bond we develop with objects and influence the value we attribute to them.

Viewed through that lens, contextual value becomes more than an abstract concept. As objects move through different environments, they do not simply accumulate years of use. They can also accumulate stories, associations and new layers of meaning. Their material composition may remain unchanged, but their significance can evolve considerably.

Perhaps this is one reason why certain objects seem to become more valuable over time while others quietly disappear. The difference is not always found in the object itself. Often, it is found in the meaning that surrounds it.

A question worth exploring

This is where my curiosity begins.

If meaning, continuity and context contribute to value, could they also be documented? Could we move beyond recording where a product comes from and begin exploring what happens afterwards? Could the story of an object's use, adaptation and movement become visible rather than disappearing every time ownership changes?

These questions have led me to prepare a small pilot around Digital Product Passports and contextual continuity. The objective is not to prove a predetermined theory, nor is it to suggest that every object deserves a second, third or fourth life. Rather, it is to explore whether something meaningful emerges when products are allowed to collect visible chapters over time and when those chapters become accessible to future owners, users and visitors.

At its core, the pilot starts from a simple curiosity. If we can document materials, manufacturing processes and environmental impact, could we also document relevance? Could a Digital Product Passport evolve from a static repository of information into a living record of adaptation, movement and continued use? And if it did, would anybody care?

I genuinely do not know.

That uncertainty is precisely what makes the question interesting.

Learning from buildings

Perhaps this idea feels unconventional because we are accustomed to thinking about products as finished objects rather than evolving assets. Yet when it comes to buildings, we already understand that history can become part of value.

Nobody would argue that a historic building derives its significance exclusively from the materials used to construct it. Much of its value emerges from the lives it has hosted, the events it has witnessed and the role it has played within a community over time. We intuitively recognise that continuity matters.

Yet when it comes to furniture and interior products, we often behave as though their story begins and ends with a specification sheet.

That feels like a missed opportunity, particularly now that technology allows us to document far more than origin. We can record movement, adaptation, changing contexts and human interaction. The technical barriers are gradually disappearing. The more interesting question is whether doing so creates meaningful value.

When continuity becomes an asset

Not every object deserves to become a museum piece, and not every chair requires a detailed biography. Yet it is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the possibility that continuity itself may represent a form of value.

After all, relevance is a curious thing. Unlike many resources, it has the potential to grow rather than diminish over time. An object that successfully adapts to changing contexts demonstrates something that cannot be designed into it on day one. It demonstrates an ability to remain useful, desirable and meaningful despite changing circumstances.

Perhaps the future of circular design will not be defined solely by products that last longer. Perhaps it will also be shaped by products that remain relevant longer, accumulating meaning and value as they move through the world.

Whether that proves to be true remains to be seen. But the possibility alone feels worth exploring.

*Training course for Circular Economy Transition Managers (CETM): Leading the Circular Shift in the Furniture Industry, shared by CirCLER

Image credits: Photo by Chaz McGregor on Unsplash