The rubbery neoprene layer would pose the biggest problem. Although invisible, buried deep between the other layers, the suit’s caretakers knew the neoprene would harden and become brittle with age, eventually making the suit stiff as a board. In January 2006, the Armstrong suit, a national treasure, was taken off display and stored to slow the degradation.
Of an estimated 8,300 million metric tons of plastic produced to date, roughly 60 percent is floating in the oceans or stuffed in landfills. Most of us want that plastic to disappear. But in museums, where objects are meant to last forever, plastics are failing the test of time.
Claes Oldenburg’s “False Food Selection,” a wooden box containing plastic models of foods like eggs and bacon, a banana and an oatmeal cookie, now appears to be rotting. The egg whites are yellowing, while the banana has completely deflated.
In museums, the problem is becoming more apparent, Dr. Rayner said in an interview: “Plastics are reaching the end of their lifetimes kind of now.”
Of all materials, plastics are proving to be one of the most challenging for conservators. “I find plastics very frustrating,” said Mr. Collum. Because of the material’s unpredictability and the huge variation in forms of deterioration, he said, “it’s just a completely different world.”
Metal, stone, ceramic and paper have survived thousands of years, while plastics have existed for a little over 150 years. In that short time, however, they have risen to dominate the materials we use today. And plastics increasingly appear in art and artifacts nominated for preservation.
A walk through various Smithsonian Institution museums makes that clear. There’s the art, of course: acrylic paintings, a polyester parabolic lens with a mirror-like surface, a fiberglass sculpture of a middle-aged woman poised to dig into a melting banana split.
There are the triumphs of human ingenuity: the first artificial heart, Ella Fitzgerald’s LPs, the Apple I computer, a D-Tag device that helped researchers track and save endangered right whales.
And there are the mundane objects, the documentation of human life: an electric can opener, a pink Princess rotary telephone, Tupperware, a six-by-eight array of coffee cup lids, all with different designs.
“You have these objects in any museum collection, especially historic objects — they take you back to a time. But holding that moment in time in a material sense is tough,” said Odile Madden, a plastics conservation scientist at the Getty Conservation Institute in Los Angeles.
The first step for these conservators and others is to determine simply what the plastic is.
“We use this word as a monolith, ‘plastics,’ when in fact it’s many hundreds and thousands of different things,” said Gregory Bailey, a conservator at the Smithsonian American Art Museum.
“Plastic” simply refers to something moldable. Often, plastics are mixtures of polymers — big, long-chained molecules — and small-molecule additives. The earliest plastics were made from modified natural polymers like cellulose, but most plastics today are based on synthetic polymers that last much longer.
The additives may be so-called plasticizers that improve flexibility or fillers that strengthen the matter.
“There are pacifiers, pigments and sometimes even glitter,” Dr. Madden said. “You end up with an enormous number of possibilities for what a plastic composition could be.”
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Perched on a hill, the views from the Getty institute stretch to the Pacific Ocean on a clear day. One afternoon, Anna Lagana, a conservator, rustled through a bin of plastic objects, some faded, others shattered.
She picked out a toothbrush split into two pieces at the middle. At its ends, the plastic handle was transparent, albeit yellowed. But near the breaks, the toothbrush is opaque, as if a cloud of white flowers had bloomed inside it.
Dr. Madden held the broken toothbrush under a microscope.
“The field started with very rudimentary physical tests, like a hot needle test” on a surface to see if the plastic melted, she said. “If it gave off some kind of smell, does it smell piney? Does it smell like burnt hair?”
Magnified, the white clouds in the toothbrush’s handle turned out to be an intricate system of cracks within cracks within cracks. Ms. Lagana and Dr. Madden immediately identified the plastic as cellulose nitrate, an early material widely used in photography and motion picture film.
The conservators had seen this type of damage many times before. “There is no other plastic that cracks in this way with this shape,” Ms. Lagana said.
For objects with almost no information, a good technique to start with is spectroscopy, an analysis of how molecules interact with light.
Dr. Madden brought out a green-and-white striped vase and a small, red instrument. The instrument fires infrared light through materials, explained Michael Doutre, a ModCon scientist.
After absorbing infrared light, the bonds that connect different atoms within molecules will bend and stretch in distinctive ways, like signature dance moves. By examining the moves recorded on a graph, scientists can identify the type of bonds and try to infer what the molecules are.
Ms. Lagana holds the vase steady while Dr. Madden touches the tip of the spectrometer to it.
“For me, it’s polyethylene or it’s polypropylene,” said Ms. Lagana, a guess based on the feel and smell of the vase.
“In this case, the absence of things tells us it’s polyethylene,” Mr. Doutre said.
Dr. Madden pulled out what used to be a powder box, its cover now badly warped, cracked and covered in a layer of white powder.
“The plastic has lost some proportion of its mass,” she said, because its plasticizer had migrated to the surface and emerged as white powder. Without plasticizer, the box became brittle and shrank, and then finally cracked along its sides.
Shrinking and additive migration are two of the most common ways plastics degrade.
While in storage at the Smithsonian, curators found that a brown stain had appeared on the Armstrong suit’s left torso as plasticizer moved out of the air supply tubes, which were made of polyvinyl chloride (PVC).
That happens because the molecules within plastics are not arranged in the most efficient way, said Jane Lipson, a physical chemist at Dartmouth College.
They are like frozen disorganized liquids, containing a lot of empty, random gaps between molecules. Over time, the large polymer molecules will slowly reorganize and pack themselves more efficiently, which looks like shrinking to the naked eye.
Any small-molecule additives will work themselves out through the gaps until they reach the surface as a sticky liquid or a white powder. When plastics get warm, they degrade faster because the molecules have more energy to move around.
Often, conservators just try to find the best conditions in which to maintain the artifacts. “Much of the conservation is how do we manage the storage or display environment to slow down the deterioration as much as possible,” said Mr. Bailey, of the Smithsonian American Art Museum.
That may involve filtering out ultraviolet rays to decrease random breaking of plastic’s molecular bonds, a tall order for the museum (it has lots of windows). Preserving a plastic artwork also may mean keeping the temperature low and humidity stable to reduce plasticizer migration, or providing an oxygen-free environment to prevent oxidation.
Mr. Collum and his team are building a special display case for the Armstrong suit in carefully chosen conditions: 63 degrees Fahrenheit, 30 percent humidity, plus filters to remove contaminants. The conservators hope to have the display ready for next year’s 50th anniversary of the moon landing.
Even something as innocuous as cleaning an object for an exhibit can be a complex process. It seems easy enough to clear plasticizer from a surface, for instance, but cleaning prompts more plasticizer to emerge, effectively accelerating degradation.
“The plasticizer is actually trying to find equilibrium between the outside of the plastic and the inside of the plastic,” Mr. Shockey said. “But once you override the equilibrium, you can have a catastrophic event.”
He recalled the story of tortoiseshell and its plastic doppelgänger, cellulose acetate. “We nearly hunted a particular turtle to extinction,” Dr. Shockey said, “and then we were able to turn away from the natural material to an alternative.”
“There’s a reason why we use them instead of the more traditional materials,” said Jeannette Garcia, a polymer chemist at IBM. For the most part plastics are cheap and versatile, lightweight yet strong.
Plastic bottles help transport clean drinking water to remote areas, lightweight composites help save energy in automobiles and planes, single-use sterile syringes and blood bags help extend lives. Prosthetics help replace failing body parts.
“We can outlive our bodies, thanks in part to plastic,” said Dr. Madden. Not to mention sending people into space.