The object
The receipt, key, charger, badge, bottle, bag, cable or handwritten note. The physical evidence of ordinary life.
A living archive of everyday objects, environments, interfaces, routines, documents, sounds and stories.
We began collecting in 2026, before anyone could know which parts of the present would someday need explaining.
The receipt, key, charger, badge, bottle, bag, cable or handwritten note. The physical evidence of ordinary life.
Where the thing lived, how it was used, what surrounded it, and the systems that made it meaningful.
“I use this every day.” “I hate this thing.” “I don’t know why I still have it.” Ordinary testimony is part of the collection.
An ordinary day reconstructed from the things that made it ordinary: alarms, kitchens, commutes, work, purchases, waiting, messages, errands, meals, screens and sleep.
Almost anything, provided it helps explain how everyday life actually worked. The Museum values ubiquity, context and lived experience (at least as much as rarity).
Bedrooms, kitchens, junk drawers, medicine cabinets, cables, laundry, clutter.
Badges, schedules, uniforms, tools, commutes, break rooms, workplace software.
Receipts, price labels, payment screens, bills, cards, subscriptions, tipping.
Devices, chargers, notifications, home screens, login prompts, errors, old cables.
Transit, signs, shops, waiting rooms, benches, advertisements, infrastructure.
Forms, leases, bills, instructions, applications, notices, envelopes marked IMPORTANT.
Morning, bedtime, groceries, medication, commuting, cleaning, scrolling, waiting.
Screenshots, emails, texts, interfaces, app prompts and things erased by the next update.
Don’t look for interesting things.
Look for ordinary things.
First as an object. Then where it actually, ordinarily lives. A key on a blank surface tells us what a key looked like. A key beside the door, receipts and yesterday’s mail tells us about a life.
Screenshots of mundane software, payment prompts, settings pages and error messages may become harder to reconstruct than physical objects. Capture them before the redesign (or retirement).
An object does not need a moving story to belong here. “This is the mug I use every morning” is historical information. So is “I don’t remember why I kept this.”
Photograph or record something from your ordinary life in 2026. Boring is good. There is no minimum level of historical importance. That is, in part, the point.
Please do not send private information belonging to other people without their permission. Public copies may be cropped, resized or redacted; archival originals are kept separately.
2026
2026—present
Collection actively forming
For now: here, and wherever ordinary life is being documented.