If an archive becomes a video game, a digital journey into a dream: the Enzo Cucchi Archive

When we think of an archive, the image that looms before our eyes is that of an orderly, quiet place filled with shelves and catalogs. A static place, designed to preserve and hand down. Cuccchi, Enzo Cucchi’s digital archive, on the other hand, is the antithesis of all this: an immersive experience, a virtual journey that blends art, memory and technology. Made in 2021 by Fantastico Studio and available on different platforms (Nintendo Switch, Playstation, Xbox, Google Play, App Store, Steam), this project is not just an archive; it is a work of art in its own right, a platform that reinvents the way we access cultural heritage. It is a place where memory becomes exploration, where the past meets the future, and where the very concept of the archive is challenged. But what are the implications of this transformation? How does the perception of memory change when it is presented in the form of a video game? And what does this project tell us about our relationship with art, technology and time?

Cucchi’s archive is not meant to be “consulted” in the traditional sense: there are no alphabetical lists or search engines to guide you to what you are looking for. Rather, it is a virtual environment that you walk through like a landscape, a digital microcosm that translates into space what we normally associate with the two-dimensionality of documents. It is an immersive experience, a dreamlike labyrinth in which works, visual fragments, and textual materials emerge as artifacts to be discovered.

This transformation brings with it a profound reflection: is an archive still an archive if it is presented as an interactive experience and not as a linear structure? Memory, in this form, is no longer something stable, but becomes a personal and subjective experience. Each user follows a different path, constructing his or her own version of Cucchi’s memory; in this sense, the archive is not simply a repository of information, but a fragmented and evolving narrative.

The choice to turn the archive into a video game is not just an aesthetic provocation, but a programmatic statement. Through this choice, Fantastico Studio recognizes the potential of contemporary languages, such as gaming, to communicate with an audience that moves ever more nimbly between the real and the virtual, the serious and the playful. Playing with the archive does not, however, mean trivializing it; rather, it invites the user to a different form of engagement. Yet, this approach raises important questions: does playfulness risk diminishing the symbolic and historical value of the archive? Or, on the contrary, can it amplify it, making it more accessible and relevant to generations accustomed to digital interaction?

The line between gaming and in-depth study is thin, but perhaps not as rigid as we might think. Gamification, in this case, is not an end, but a means: a way to translate Cucchi’s artistic legacy into a language capable of dialoguing with the present. One of the most fascinating aspects of Enzo Cucchi’s digital archive is the fact that it does not just collect his works: it embodies his spirit.

The visual language of the project, made of fragments, suggestions and surreal settings, directly recalls the artist’s aesthetics and thought. It is not simply a means of accessing information about his work, but an extension of his poetics. And this very thing opens up an intriguing question: where does the artwork end and the archive begin?

If an archive is no longer just a collection of materials, but becomes itself a work, then its function expands. It does not just preserve, but interprets, creates, transforms. Cuccchi shows that the archive does not have to be a neutral entity; it can be an active part of an artistic dialogue.

Digitization has already revolutionized the way we think about archives, but Cucchi’s project goes beyond that. It is not just about making accessible materials that would otherwise be confined to a library or museum; it is about radically rethinking the very concept of the archive. In a virtual world, documents are not just “objects” to be consulted; they become experiences to be lived.

This leads us to reflect on how technology is transforming our relationship with memory. Is digitization making memory more democratic or more ephemeral? If everything becomes accessible, explorable, even playable, is there a risk that the sacredness of the past will dissolve? Or perhaps, as Cucchi’s archive shows, can technology offer new, more engaging and personal ways of approaching the past?

Fantastico Studio’s project reminds us that memory is not a static entity, but a dynamic process. Rather than offering a definitive and unchanging version of Cucchi’s work, the digital archive creates an experience that changes each time you experience it. Each user brings with them their own perspective, interests, and emotions, and these elements influence how the archive is perceived. In this sense, the archive is never the same: it is a living organism, transforming with each interaction.

Cucchi’s archive is an invitation to reflect on how we preserve the past and how we want to interact with it in the present. It is a bold experiment that not only celebrates the work of an artist, but redefines our relationship with cultural memory. And perhaps that is its most important message: memory is never something finished. It is a process, an ongoing creation, a conversation between what has been and what could be. With this project they show us that remembering is not simply about looking back, but building new ways forward. And in a world increasingly dominated by technology, finding new and meaningful ways to connect with the past may be the greatest art of all.

Each visit to the archive is unique-a personalized path depending on how we go about it, what we choose to observe or ignore. In this sense, Cucchi’s archive is never the same, just like memory, which changes every time we evoke it. Enzo Cucchi’s digital archive is not only a tribute to his art, but a manifesto on the future of cultural memory. It is a provocation, a laboratory of ideas, a place of questions rather than answers. What kind of memory are we building when we archive in this way? And what does it mean, after all, to remember?

In an age when art is in danger of being consumed too quickly, an archive that invites play, but also requires thinking, feeling, exploring, might be exactly what we need.

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