When we think of sustainable design, bio-resins often sound like the perfect solution – natural, renewable, and kinder to the planet than traditional plastics. But what are they really made of? And how can we be sure?
These questions were at the heart of my work on the Material Cultures: Woodland Goods project, where I was invited to investigate the chemical makeup of some of the bio-resins the design and research practice was using in its work. The project explored how locally sourced, renewable materials could be used in contemporary making – an idea that’s both forward-thinking and deeply rooted in historical practice. My role was to look closely at the binders – the sticky substances that hold everything together—and ask: how ‘bio’ are these bio-resins, really?
The promise of bio-resins
Bio-resins are marketed as sustainable alternatives to petroleum-based plastics. They’re often derived from natural sources like agricultural waste, tree sap, or seaweed, and they promise a lower environmental impact. But the term ‘bio-resin’ is slippery. It can refer to materials that are entirely plant-based or to those that contain just a small percentage of bio-derived content, with the rest made up of synthetic additives.
This lack of clarity is more than just a semantic issue. It affects how we assess the environmental credentials of a material, how we use it, and how we dispose of it. As a conservation scientist, I’m trained to look beneath the surface – to understand not just what a material does, but what it’s made of, how it ages, and how it interacts with its environment. So, I set out to test the resins used in Material Cultures’ prototypes, hoping to get some clear answers.
Testing the unknown
The resins came from Cecence, a company working with bio-based composites. At the V&A’s conservation science lab, we used Fourier-transform infrared spectroscopy (FTIR) to analyse the samples. FTIR is a powerful tool for identifying functional groups in organic compounds – it gives us a kind of chemical fingerprint that helps determine what types of molecules are present.
The results were revealing. Some samples matched conventional synthetic resins, with no detectable signals from other compounds. Others exhibited broad, noisy peaks – likely due to sample coloration – that made it difficult to identify specific components. In a few cases, the spectra aligned with published data for bio-based resins, though not perfectly. This suggests that while bio-derived content may be present, its proportion and formulation can vary widely.
FTIR has its limits. It’s excellent for identifying broad categories, like whether a resin contains esters, alcohols, or hydrocarbons, but it can’t always pinpoint specific compounds, especially when formulations are complex or proprietary. More advanced techniques like pyrolysis gas chromatography mass spectrometry (Py-GC/MS) would have helped us dig deeper, but they weren’t available in our lab.
Why it matters
This ambiguity isn’t just a headache for scientists, it’s a challenge for designers, makers, and anyone trying to make responsible material choices. Without transparency, it’s hard to compare products, assess their lifecycle impacts, or make informed decisions about their use.
For conservation scientists, this uncertainty also affects long-term preservation strategies. Materials that appear similar may age differently, interact unpredictably with their environment, or degrade in ways that compromise the integrity of an object.
And yet, bio-resins hold real promise. Some, like polyfural alcohol (PFA) derived from agricultural waste, offer excellent fire resistance and thermal stability. Others, like pine rosin, are biodegradable and locally sourced, though they come with limitations – low melting points, for example, that restrict their use in high-temperature applications.
The key is matching the right material to the right application. As Sam Holland-Bunyan from Cecence put it during a panel discussion at the Make Good Symposium, “True sustainability requires considering both fibre and binder provenance, lifecycle, and processing impacts.” It’s not enough to swap out one material for another, we need to understand the whole system.
A call for transparency
So, what can we do? First, we need better standards and clearer labelling. The term ‘bio-resin’ should come with qualifiers – how much of the content is bio-based? What’s the source? What additives are included? Second, we need more open collaboration between manufacturers, researchers, and designers. Sharing data, testing results, and formulation details can help build trust and accelerate innovation.
And finally, we need to keep asking questions. Sustainability isn’t a fixed destination, it’s a process of continual learning, probing, and refining. As designers and makers, it’s tempting to reach for materials that sound green and good. But as the Material Cultures: Woodland Goods project showed, the reality is often more complex. That complexity shouldn’t discourage us, it should inspire us to dig deeper.
Making good
The Make Good ethos is about thoughtful, responsible making. It’s about reconnecting with materials, understanding their histories, and imagining their futures. Bio-resins are part of that story, but only if we treat them with the same curiosity and care that we bring to everything else we make.
So, architects, designers and makers, next time you see a product labelled ‘bio-based’, don’t just take it at face value. Ask what it’s made of. Ask how it was processed. Ask whether it’s the right material for the job. Because if we’re going to make good, we need to know what we’re making with.
