If you ever took a drawing class, you have met this face. Art schools spent about two centuries buying plaster casts of David’s head and parking them on shelves so students could sit there for six hours learning to render a nostril. The Victoria and Albert Museum owns a full size cast of the whole statue, and famously kept a plaster fig leaf on standby in case Queen Victoria dropped by and needed the shock absorbed. So David has been getting copied, shrunk, cast, and occasionally censored for a very long time. Turning him into a toy is not the sacrilege it sounds like. It’s basically the family business.
Which brings us to Ysien, a LEGO Ideas builder who decided the next material in that lineage should be ABS plastic. The build renders David’s head, neck, shoulders and upper chest as a classical bust, entirely in white, sitting on a proper stepped pedestal. No color, no minifigure, no cheeky accessories. Just light and shadow doing all the work, exactly like the plaster casts it descends from.
Designer: Ysien
The hair is the whole reason this MOC (My Own Creation) works. Hair is where sculptors get found out, because faces have anatomy underneath that you can reason your way through, while hair is a mass of overlapping nothing that somehow has to read as soft. Michelangelo’s answer was a tangle of deep drilled curls. Ysien’s answer is a genuinely absurd stack of curved slopes and half arch elements layered at varying depths, so each curl throws its own little shadow instead of flattening into texture. “The hair was one of the greatest challenges, with each curl contributing to the overall silhouette, depth, rhythm, and movement,” he says, which is a very polite way of describing what must have been several evenings of quiet suffering.
My favorite decision, though, is that the seams stay visible. Ysien could have chased a smooth marble finish and lost, because bricks do not do smooth. Instead he let the geometry become part of the sculpture, so the thing reads as a portrait from across the room and as unmistakable LEGO up close. The eyes get a similar treatment, built from inverted round elements that give David that vacant classical stare, which is a nice accident given the real statue has heart shaped pupils drilled into it. Monochrome white does the rest, forcing every bit of the anatomy to be described by shadow alone. There’s no piece count listed yet, although I wouldn’t be surprised if it was in the high hundreds.
Ysien’s David is currently sitting at just over 400 supporters with 424 days on the clock, which means there is a long road to the 10,000 votes that trigger an official LEGO review. LEGO Ideas is where fan builds get their shot at becoming retail sets, and this one deserves a look. The only thing I’d add is a black variant, because a basalt David would be an absolute menace on a shelf. You can head to the LEGO Ideas page and cast your vote!
If you ever took a drawing class, you have met this face. Art schools spent about two centuries buying plaster casts of David’s head and parking them on shelves so students could sit there for six hours learning to render a nostril. The Victoria and Albert Museum owns a full size cast of the whole statue, and famously kept a plaster fig leaf on standby in case Queen Victoria dropped by and needed the shock absorbed. So David has been getting copied, shrunk, cast, and occasionally censored for a very long time. Turning him into a toy is not the sacrilege it sounds like. It’s basically the family business.
Which brings us to Ysien, a LEGO Ideas builder who decided the next material in that lineage should be ABS plastic. The build renders David’s head, neck, shoulders and upper chest as a classical bust, entirely in white, sitting on a proper stepped pedestal. No color, no minifigure, no cheeky accessories. Just light and shadow doing all the work, exactly like the plaster casts it descends from.
Designer: Ysien
The hair is the whole reason this MOC (My Own Creation) works. Hair is where sculptors get found out, because faces have anatomy underneath that you can reason your way through, while hair is a mass of overlapping nothing that somehow has to read as soft. Michelangelo’s answer was a tangle of deep drilled curls. Ysien’s answer is a genuinely absurd stack of curved slopes and half arch elements layered at varying depths, so each curl throws its own little shadow instead of flattening into texture. “The hair was one of the greatest challenges, with each curl contributing to the overall silhouette, depth, rhythm, and movement,” he says, which is a very polite way of describing what must have been several evenings of quiet suffering.
My favorite decision, though, is that the seams stay visible. Ysien could have chased a smooth marble finish and lost, because bricks do not do smooth. Instead he let the geometry become part of the sculpture, so the thing reads as a portrait from across the room and as unmistakable LEGO up close. The eyes get a similar treatment, built from inverted round elements that give David that vacant classical stare, which is a nice accident given the real statue has heart shaped pupils drilled into it. Monochrome white does the rest, forcing every bit of the anatomy to be described by shadow alone. There’s no piece count listed yet, although I wouldn’t be surprised if it was in the high hundreds.
Ysien’s David is currently sitting at just over 400 supporters with 424 days on the clock, which means there is a long road to the 10,000 votes that trigger an official LEGO review. LEGO Ideas is where fan builds get their shot at becoming retail sets, and this one deserves a look. The only thing I’d add is a black variant, because a basalt David would be an absolute menace on a shelf. You can head to the LEGO Ideas page and cast your vote!
Ross Lovegrove has spent his whole career convinced that nature already nailed industrial design and humans are just slow to catch up. His portfolio backs it up fast. The Ty Nant water bottle looks like a puddle caught mid freeze. The DNA Staircase he built for the Belgian Pavilion at Shanghai Expo 2010 spirals like an actual double helix. His Go Chair for Bernhardt Design curves like it was grown in a lab rather than welded together in a factory. Give the guy a chair, a bottle, a staircase, anything, and he finds the organic shape hiding inside it. Speakers are trickier though, since somewhere inside all that flowing curvature you still need drivers, amplifiers, and wiring that behaves itself.
KEF’s new LS LUXE is Lovegrove’s answer, and it is a genuinely convincing one. Picture two smooth pebbles sitting on your shelf, the kind you would find polished at the bottom of a river, except one of them has a gold driver staring back at you like a tiny mechanical flower. The cabinet skips every straight edge in favor of that rounded, water worn shape, finished in shades like Mineral White and Eclipse Black. Spec wise, you get 380 watts of amplification and network streaming up to 384 kHz, all packed into a form that reads more like sculpture than stereo gear. It launched in Asia Pacific at 4,910 US dollars a pair, with US availability and pricing still to come.
Inside that pebble shaped shell sits KEF’s 12th generation Uni-Q driver array, a 165 mm aluminium cone wrapped around a 25 mm dome tweeter that fires from the exact same point in space. That single point origin is why Uni-Q speakers spread sound evenly instead of beaming it at whoever grabbed the best seat. Behind the driver, KEF’s Metamaterial Absorption Technology claims to soak up 99 percent of unwanted rear sound, the same maze like structure found in flagship lines like the Blade. Two amplifiers split the work, 280 watts for the lows and mids, 100 watts for the highs. That is serious firepower for something the size of a grapefruit.
The rear ripples with vertical ribbing like sand under shallow water, broken only by an oval bass port and a connections panel etched with Lovegrove’s own signature. That same engineering ambition carries over to VECO, KEF’s new Velocity Control Technology, debuting here in a wireless speaker for the first time. VECO uses motion sensing feedback to catch distortion and power compression before they turn audible, letting the speaker correct itself in real time rather than waiting for you to notice something is off. Network streaming tops out at 384 kHz, with AirPlay, Chromecast, Bluetooth, and Tidal, Qobuz, and Spotify Connect built in. Roon support is coming too, just not until 2027.
Dusk Titanium, Eclipse Black, and Mineral White are the three finishes on offer, and KEF ties each one back to cymatics, the way sound visibly ripples across a surface, which is a bit much on paper but looks genuinely premium in person. A pair runs 6,299 Singapore dollars, about 4,910 US dollars, with the launch limited to Asia Pacific for now. The US page is live for early access through myKEF membership, though American pricing has not landed yet. Twenty kilos a pair also means double checking that shelf before committing. KEF is betting people will pay a premium for a speaker that looks like it belongs in a gallery instead of a media console.
KEF tried this design forward approach before with the LS50 Wireless II, and the LS LUXE feels like that idea with the leash finally taken off. Where the LS50 stayed rounded but fairly conventional, Lovegrove pushed KEF into a shape that competes with furniture for shelf space instead of hiding next to it. The real test is whether that sculptural ambition holds up once these sit in an actual living room instead of a studio render, since renders always flatter reality. At 4,910 dollars a pair, this is priced for people who already care about hi-fi and design in equal measure, not newcomers to either. Lovegrove has spent a career getting objects into museums. Whether the LS LUXE joins them or just earns a very nice shelf, KEF has made sure nobody mistakes it for furniture nobody asked for.
Most coffee nerds can tell you the difference between a bean from Colombia and one from Ghana, or even one from Brazil, without hesitation. Some are arabica, some robusta, some carry caramel notes while others lean fruity, some taste gentler thanks to high-altitude growing conditions, while others pick up the character of the soil they’re grown in. Most coffee nerds can taste the difference between two cups brewed with two different beans. What they usually can’t do at a glance is look at two pour-over drippers and instantly tell how each design shapes the brewing process and, ultimately, the flavor in the cup. They obsess over coffee, and sometimes maybe even the device they brew the coffee in, but not everyone can identify the hidden engineering details that make your coffee maker do its job consistently.
The fun part is that JUNE wears all that engineering incredibly well. It has the clean, almost gallery-like silhouette of a countertop design object you’d actually want to leave out, but every part of that shape is secretly working double duty. The dual-wall vacuum body is there to stop heat from escaping mid-brew, the ceramic-coated interior keeps your coffee tasting like coffee instead of metal, and the 12 internal ribs are designed to manage filter contact and airflow with a surprising amount of precision. It’s the kind of thoughtful design that makes you realize some drippers are basically just bowls with ambition, hoping for the best. JUNE, on the other hand, tries to account for every unknown variable, make it known, and then control it obsessively to ensure that your brew is consistent to the point where it feels like science meets art meets coffee.
Temperature is the variable most pour-over gear quietly ignores. Glass, ceramic, and single-wall steel drippers all absorb heat from brewing water rapidly, sometimes dropping the temperature by as much as 15-20°C in the first thirty seconds of a brew, which changes how compounds extract from the grounds and ultimately changes what ends up in the cup. Most people never realize it’s happening because the result is just a slightly flatter, slightly less interesting version of what the coffee could have been. JUNE’s double-wall vacuum structure builds a thermal barrier directly into the dripper itself, maintaining a more stable brewing environment from bloom to drawdown. Shelbru’s own testing showed JUNE holding within roughly 1-2°C of its starting brew temperature over four minutes, while glass and metal competitors dropped far more aggressively. The practical payoff is straightforward: you can dial in a recipe and actually repeat it, which sounds obvious but is genuinely harder than it should be with conventional gear.
The 12 concave ribs inside JUNE are doing more brewing work than they look like. Their primary job is holding the paper filter flush against the dripper wall, which reduces the gap through which water can slip around the coffee bed instead of through it, a problem that quietly leads to under-extracted, uneven cups. Between each rib, recessed air channels let pressure escape smoothly as water flows down, helping maintain a steadier, more controlled drawdown from start to finish. Then there’s the Aroma Flow outlet at the base, which centers and stabilizes the coffee stream as it exits the dripper, pointing it precisely where it needs to land. For people using a standard server, that’s a nice quality-of-life detail. For people pairing JUNE with ICOSA’s Avensi Cyclone, it becomes the entire point.
JUNE’s Aroma Flow outlet was designed with a specific destination in mind, and the Shelbru x ICOSA Avensi Cyclone is it. The Cyclone is a borosilicate glass sensory carafe featuring a raised Aroma Peak at its center, a form inspired by high-end wine decanters, which coffee cascades over as it drips from JUNE’s outlet, diffusing and magnifying aromatics into the air as it does. The Avensi Alto tasting cup extends that philosophy further, with an hourglass form and Aeration Waves geometry that amplify the aromatic complexity of each sip. Both pieces are handcrafted from borosilicate glass and designed to stack cleanly for storage. Together they push the serving and tasting half of the pour-over ritual well past what a standard mug typically offers.
The Shelbru Smart Canister handles everything that happens before the kettle even comes out. It’s a vacuum-sealed bean storage container with an automated pressure sensor that monitors internal conditions and reactivates vacuuming whenever pressure drops below -20 kPa, keeping beans in a stable, low-oxygen environment without any manual effort on your part. Press once to seal, press again to open, and the canister takes care of the rest. It holds 250 to 300 grams of roasted coffee, runs on a 1,500 mAh battery rated for around 4,000 hours of standby, and charges fully in three hours. For anyone who has bought genuinely excellent beans and then watched them go stale in a poorly sealed bag, this is the container that fixes that specific, recurring regret.
Swapping JUNE’s silicone base for a Hario Switch converts the entire setup to immersion brewing in seconds, giving you a different extraction profile from the same dripper body without buying a second piece of equipment. Pairing JUNE with Nucleus Paragon opens up rapid cooling and temperature-controlled experiments for brewers who want to get more technical about what’s in the cup. The detachable base makes JUNE feel like a platform rather than a fixed tool, one that grows with how seriously you decide to take this whole thing. For casual daily brewers, this is context they may never need. For the kind of person who already owns a precision kettle and a gram scale, this is where JUNE gets very interesting very fast.
JUNE starts at $63 for the single dripper, with the Fresh Brew Bundle pairing JUNE with the Smart Canister at $103. The Complete Aroma System, which brings together JUNE, the Avensi Cyclone, the Avensi Alto, and the Smart Canister, covers the full pour-over journey from bean storage to brewing to serving to tasting, and is priced at $137. Yanko Design readers get an exclusive deal on that Complete Aroma System at $135, against an MSRP of $235. The Cold Brew Bundle, which includes the Shelbru Brewer, Carafe, and Smart Canister, comes in at $83. Mass production is already underway with delivery expected in September 2026, and full details are available on the Kickstarter page below
Gold is a bully. Put it anywhere near black and it wins every argument, which is why most manufacturers use it sparingly, on a badge, maybe a border, probably just a little accent here or there, that’s it. Triumph used it five times on the new Speed Twin 1200 TFC and somehow the bike does not look like a trophy. There’s gold in the tank pinstripe, gold outlining the Triumph badge, gold on the fork lowers, gold on the Öhlins adjusters, and a full gold chain spinning away back there like it’s showing off.
The trick is what’s holding it all down. Every other surface on this thing is either gloss black, matte carbon, or blacked out titanium, so the gold has nowhere to bounce. It reads as punctuation instead of paint. Look at the tank in daylight and the metallic flake in Obsidian Gold does something sneakier still, glinting only when the light hits at an angle.
Designer: Triumph
Carbon fiber handles the unglamorous half of the equation. Gloss-lacquered panels wrap the mudguards, side panels, and heel guards, keeping the bike visually quiet enough for the gold to register. It also drops wet weight to 214 kg, 3 kg under the Café Racer Edition and 2 kg under the standard Speed Twin 1200 and RS, roughly a six-pack of beer permanently removed from a bike you’re about to fling around corners. None of it shouts about lap times. It’s there because a factory custom still has to look hand-built even when a robot laid up half the panels.
Fully adjustable Öhlins units replace the Marzocchi suspension at both ends, and Brembo Stylema calipers grab the front discs through a radial master cylinder, hardware you’d expect on a race bike, not a numbered plaque. Low clip-on bars and end-mounted mirrors push the rider into a sportier crouch, backed by a billet aluminum top yoke laser-etched with each bike’s number out of the 750-unit run. It’s parked right where your eyes land every time you glance at the bars, a reminder that you did, in fact, pay for something rare.
The engine is the one thing Triumph left alone, correctly. It’s the same 103.5 hp, 112 Nm parallel twin found in the standard Speed Twin 1200, the RS, and the Café Racer Edition, so nobody’s buying this for a bigger number. What’s different is how it exits, through black titanium Akrapovič silencers with carbon end caps that trade a bit of restriction for a better soundtrack. Shift Assist, cornering ABS, traction control, and three riding modes round out the electronics on a color TFT and LCD combo, with a USB-C port instead of some ancient proprietary plug.
Bullet-style LED indicators double as brake and tail lights, freeing up the space where a central lamp usually sits for a clean, logoed blanking plate instead. It’s a small deletion custom shops would charge extra for, and here it comes standard. The seat is a one-piece bench in hand-stitched leather with a suede pad, the kind of detail you only clock once you’re sitting on it.
At $21,995, with 180 units earmarked for the US and 30 for Canada, the Speed Twin 1200 TFC is priced and rationed like the collector’s item Triumph wants it to be. Deliveries start in October, and every bike ships with its own numbered yoke, turning “limited edition” into something you can actually point to. Neither the horsepower nor the price tag really sells this bike. It’s that Triumph resisted throwing everything at it, building a bike where five points of gold do more design work than most manufacturers manage with an entire livery.
The whole point of a portable fan is that it goes where you go. Bedroom in the morning, home office by noon, patio by evening, campsite by the weekend. That flexibility is basically the product’s entire reason for existing. Smart home integration has historically worked against that, though. Most connected fans are smart in exactly one place: wherever the hub lives. The Curtain 3 and the Blind Tilt, products we’ve covered in the SwitchBot lineup, both need the Hub 3 to talk to Apple Home or Google Home. The Hub lives on a shelf. Your fan moves. That tension has been quietly baked into smart home portability for a while.
Matter over Wi-Fi is the fix. It’s the open connectivity standard that Apple, Google, Amazon, and hundreds of other tech companies built together so that devices can join any smart home platform without a proprietary bridge in the middle. The Battery Circulator Fan 2 Pro has it built in, which means it connects straight to Apple Home, Alexa, Google Home, or Home Assistant from wherever it happens to be, bedroom, patio, campsite, corner of the living room you forgot existed. No Hub required. SwitchBot says it’s the first battery-powered air circulator to ship with Matter over Wi-Fi, and and boasts a 70-hour battery, making it last well over a long weekend when you’re out camping. Even more if you hook it to a power bank.
Designer: SwitchBot
A 3,600 mAh battery gives the fan its untethered freedom – that’s enough to run for several days, or even a full week of evenings, without needing a charge. On its highest setting, you get about four hours of peak performance, which is plenty for cooling down a room quickly. SwitchBot also built in a practical safety net for when the battery does run low. The fan supports both AC wall power and USB-C charging, so you can plug it in and keep it running indefinitely. This triple-power setup makes the portability feel genuine, because the fan is never truly out of commission; it just switches from being cordless to corded without missing a beat.
This fan moves a serious amount of air. It’s an air circulator, designed to generate a powerful, focused column of air that can travel up to 33.5 meters, or about 110 feet. With a max airflow of 477 cubic feet per minute (CFM) and a wind speed of 6.5 meters per second, it’s engineered for whole-room ventilation. This is the kind of performance that helps an air conditioner work more efficiently by distributing cold air evenly, or keeps a stuffy room from feeling stagnant. It’s a significant step up from smaller personal fans that are only effective when they are pointed directly at you from a few feet away, making this a much more versatile cooling tool for larger spaces.
At its lowest setting, the fan runs at just 21 decibels. That’s quieter than a whisper, making it an easy addition to a bedroom or a quiet office without creating a distracting hum in the background. This focus on low-noise operation is a critical detail, because a loud fan, no matter how powerful, often gets turned off. The fan also includes a subtle but clever lifestyle feature: an optional aroma diffuser. A small pad near the grille allows you to add a few drops of your favorite essential oil, letting the fan circulate a pleasant scent throughout the room along with the cool air. It’s a small touch that elevates the experience from simple utility to something that enhances the room’s overall atmosphere.
The fan’s physical design is built around its portability. Its clean, sculptural form is available in both black and white, with a large, integrated handle on top that makes it easy to pick up and move with one hand. The unit feels solid without being heavy, striking a good balance for a device meant to be relocated often. SwitchBot also included a thoughtful, practical detail for long-term use: a removable and washable filter. This fine mesh screen sits behind the main grille and is designed to catch larger particles like pet hair and dust before they get into the fan blades. It’s a simple addition that makes maintenance easier and keeps the air it circulates a little cleaner.
That direct Matter connection unlocks some genuinely useful automations. Because the fan can talk to any Matter-compatible platform, you can tie it into routines with devices from other brands. You could pair it with a separate temperature and humidity sensor, for example, and create an automation that kicks the fan on whenever the living room hits 78 degrees. Or, you could include it in a “Good Night” scene that turns off the lights, locks the doors, and starts the fan on its quietest setting. This is where the hub-free design really shines, allowing the fan to act as a truly independent and intelligent part of your home, wherever you decide to place it for the day.
For years, the intelligence in our devices has been tethered to a power outlet and a central hub. By embedding Matter over Wi-Fi in a battery-powered device, SwitchBot has created a gadget that is smart everywhere, not just in one room. It’s a small but significant step toward a more flexible and intuitive connected home, where our devices adapt to our lives instead of forcing us to arrange our lives around them. For $119.99, you get a powerful air circulator, a long-lasting battery, and a glimpse of a more sensible smart home future.
The humble pen is one of the most perfectly designed objects in everyday human history. It’s a simple, durable, pocket-friendly cylinder that most of us carry without a second thought, right up until the moment we actually need it. Its form is so familiar that we rarely stop to question its potential as anything other than a writing instrument. But what if the pen’s silhouette was actually the perfect chassis for something far more ambitious? What if its main job wasn’t to record problems, but to solve them?
TiMate, the Redwood City-based EDC team behind the BoltLite and CoreLite, spent three design generations building toward exactly this: a Grade 5 titanium pen organized around a four-step repair workflow of illuminating, marking, cutting, and repairing. The body is CNC-machined, IPX-8 waterproof, and houses a detachable flashlight, a three-slot magnetic toolbox, a dual-tip marking system, and a utility blade, all in a 60-gram, 5.31-inch frame. The VeroLite also writes. That’s almost a punchline. But genuinely, it writes well.
The flashlight module runs a Cree XPG4 LED at a neutral 5000K color temperature with 70+ CRI, which is the difference between reading a wire’s color accurately and just guessing. Three modes cover the range: 9 lumens for close inspection, 150 lumens for repairs and outdoor use, and a strobe for emergencies. IPX-8 waterproof, it charges over USB-C in 40 minutes, running 12 hours on low from a 100mAh lithium cell. The module detaches completely from the pen body via a magnetic joint rated at 3.8 kilograms, redesigned after users flagged the earlier version as too loose. Clip it standalone to a carabiner, rotate the dual-direction clip to aim the beam, or separate it so both hands are free for the repair.
Previous TiMate pens dedicated this midsection to a fixed blade; the VeroLite converts it into a three-slot magnetic platform for standard 4mm screwdriver bits. The compartment is sealed, waterproof, and ships with a Y3, PH2, and PZ1 set. Any standard 4mm bit fits, so your existing collection is already compatible. Three working modes follow: quick-fix with a bare bit in hand, full precision with the pen body as a handle, and two-handed work with the flashlight detached and aimed. Swapping bits is fast.
A single twist of the gear-textured tip selector switches between a graphite core and a tungsten carbide scribe. The graphite is rated for 10 miles of writing, needs no ink or refills, and will outlast the pen in most people’s hands. The tungsten carbide scribe marks metal, ceramic, glass, and stone cleanly and permanently, surfaces where a marker would just skid. One twist separates a quick note from a precise cut line on tile, without looking down. The tactile texture means you can switch mid-repair without losing your grip.
The utility blade is a 1/6-inch chrome steel cutter that loads into the magnetic storage like any other bit, making blade swaps meaningfully safer than a standard box cutter. On a traditional utility knife, the swap puts your fingertips millimeters from the fresh edge; on the VeroLite, the blade handles identically to a screwdriver bit. The clip end functions as a pry tool for paint cans, stuck lids, and loose nails. The tungsten carbide tip doubles as an automotive side-window breaker, so the same tool scribing tile in the morning can shatter a car window later. TiMate calls it a pocket repair station, and the label earns itself.
The body is CNC-machined Grade 5 titanium, 134.9mm long and 14.6mm wide, available in Titanium Gray (sandblasted matte) and Tactical Black (PVD-coated, scratch-resistant). At 60 grams, it’s 15% lighter than the CoreLite, a change driven directly by user feedback about hand fatigue. A recessed contour at the grip zone gives your fingers a natural landing spot, so it feels like a tool rather than a tube. Both finishes share the same machining process, so structural quality is identical. A leather sleeve option swaps the clip for a cleaner desk-carry profile.
The VeroLite retails at $119 and is currently available at a discounted $85 for a single unit. Add-ons include a 20-piece alloy bit set, extra graphite and tungsten tips, replacement blades, a stainless steel necklace for neck carry, and a leather pouch. A Leatherman Skeletool costs around $90 with seven tools, but lacks an integrated light, a marking system, or modular storage. TiMate’s argument is simple discipline: fewer tools, all of which you’ll actually use, organized around a clear workflow. If you’ve ever wished your pen could fix the problem you’re staring at, this one finally does.
Every kid who grew up watching cars turn into robots has a soft spot for things that are not what they seem. Musician and maker Mattias Krantz never quite grew out of that phase, except instead of turning a truck into Optimus Prime, he set his sights on something smaller and arguably harder to pull off without CGI. He wanted a ukulele that could become a full size guitar on command, without falling apart in his hands. That meant solving three problems at once: growing the neck by roughly ten inches, keeping the strings in tune through that change, and expanding the body into a real guitar shape instead of a symmetrical blob. Each one turned out to be its own small nightmare.
The motivation was refreshingly petty. Ukulele players get less respect than guitar players no matter how good they get, and Krantz wanted to flip that on its head. Getting there took months of failed prototypes and a collaboration with mechanical engineer Adam Damato, who stepped in once the physics of a growing, string bearing neck got too gnarly to solve alone. What began as a joke became a real feat of mechanical design, borrowing tricks from telescoping tools, fishing reels, and an obscure folk instrument. By the end, the ukulele fit in a backpack and unfolded into a stage ready guitar in seconds.
Designers: Mattias Krantz, Adam Damato
The neck telescopes straight out of the ukulele’s tiny frame, sliding one section into the next until it locks at full guitar length, gaining roughly ten inches without ever detaching from the body. A steel core runs through the sliding sections, and the joints are cut so they interlock and brace against each other the instant the neck reaches full extension. That bracing is what lets it survive eighty pounds of string tension without bowing like a fishing rod. Getting there took two failed attempts first. A folding neck, borrowed from an old instrument called the cithara orbo, worked fine on a full size guitar but was useless on a ukulele, since half a neck sat exactly where a hand needed to grip. The telescoping version solved the length problem right away, but only stopped bending once Damato worked in the steel core and reinforced joints.
The strings are custom made, roughly twice the length of a normal set, and thread onto strategically placed rollers hidden inside the neck and body. Pull the neck out and the rollers feed slack forward, push it back in and they wind the excess back up, so the same six strings carry the instrument through both tunings without coming off. That roller system only exists because everything simpler failed first. Rubber bands solved the stretch problem but sounded worse than the ukulele they replaced. A fishing reel style rig using rope worked until the rope itself stretched, turning every transformation into tuning roulette, and swapping in non stretch rope traded that for a rope that kept snapping, once badly enough to take the guitar apart. Custom strings, ordered special and worth a twenty day wait, were the fix that finally held.
The body expands through six independently moving panels that fan outward from the ukulele’s compact shell, each one traveling a different distance and angle so the outline settles into a real guitar’s curves instead of a bloated circle. An early version of that mechanism grew symmetrically in every direction, fine for something like a banjo but wrong for an instrument with a pinched waist. Getting six panels to move independently instead of in lockstep turned one mechanical problem into six. The first panel alone took three attempts before it worked reliably, and even then only about ninety percent of the time. Adding the rest of the panels made things worse, since a hub inside was quietly blocking outward movement and jamming the whole assembly. Swapping plastic components for metal fixed it, and two days assembling hundreds of parts produced a body that finally held its shape.
None of this would matter if the transformation felt gimmicky in person, but the reception says otherwise. Onlookers at Krantz’s street performances wrote it off as just another ukulele until it unfolded mid song and changed their opinion of him. A band let him bring it on stage, and the transformation held together well enough to draw applause rather than confusion. Transforming gadgets are nothing new, but the engineering here, steel joints, custom rollers, six moving panels, earns real attention over a gimmick label. Krantz and Damato spent months on problems most builders would abandon, and the payoff works under tension, every time.
Car companies figured this out decades ago. You build one solid platform, then you stretch it, armor it, or strip it down depending on who is buying. A pickup and an SUV can share more bones than you would think. AutoFlight just applied the same logic to flying machines, and honestly, it is kind of wild that nobody in the eVTOL space was doing this loudly before.
Their 2-ton airframe is the base recipe. From there you get Prosperity, the passenger taxi, plus a cargo hauler, a firefighting variant, and a beefed up 5-ton sibling called the Matrix. Same DNA, four very different jobs. That is not just clever engineering, it is the kind of design thinking that turns a single good idea into an entire product family.
Designer: AutoFlight
Instead of one long wing with propellers hanging off it, Prosperity splits its lift across two shorter, staggered wing sets, one up top and one lower down, each carrying its own pair of tilting propellers. Seen head on, the whole thing forms a kind of open diamond shape, wings sweeping outward and slightly upward like a bird mid glide. That geometry is not just for show. Shorter wings mean a smaller footprint on the ground, which matters a lot when your business plan involves landing on rooftops and tight urban pads instead of runways. The teardrop cabin tucked underneath keeps the silhouette clean and lets the eye read this as one continuous vehicle instead of a fuselage with stuff bolted onto it.
That same wing and boom architecture is what makes the whole family idea work. Swap the passenger cabin for a cargo pod and you get CarryAll, the variant that has already flown certified deliveries. Reinforce the frame and add water or retardant tanks and you get the firefighting version, built for exactly the kind of terrain where a fire truck cannot reach in time. Scale the structure up and add more lift and you land on Matrix, the 5-ton cousin built for heavier industrial jobs. None of these required AutoFlight to reinvent the aerodynamics from scratch, they just reworked what sits inside the same wing and boom skeleton.
This is also why the Kazakhstan push makes sense as a platform story rather than a one-off sale. AAAG did not just buy a handful of demo units, they signed for 50 aircraft, which only makes financial sense if the underlying platform is flexible enough to serve multiple missions across a country with serious geographic spread. A single certified airframe that can become a taxi one month and a firefighting unit the next is a much easier sell to a government trying to solve connectivity across a huge, sparsely covered region.
Most eVTOL startups are still fighting just to get one aircraft through certification without going bankrupt. AutoFlight looked at that grind and decided to get four aircraft out of the same paperwork, the same supply chain, and the same wing design. It is a quieter kind of ambition than a flashy air taxi reveal, but it is the kind that actually scales. Watching two Prosperity units and a Matrix fly in formation earlier this year was the moment that platform strategy stopped being a slide in an investor deck and started looking like an actual product family.
Double sliders in a pocket EDC tool? That’s not something you see often, mostly because fitting two independent sliding mechanisms into a body small enough to actually carry is a nightmare of compromise and thickness. LUNARK’s Edge & Pop Dual pulls it off anyway. Each slider operates independently with its own thumb control, so you can deploy the Damascus blade, pop out the bottle opener, or leave both closed and use the whole thing as a phone stand. The mechanism is clean, the actions are positive, and nothing interferes with anything else. It’s the kind of solution that makes you wonder why more multitools don’t try this approach, until you remember that engineering two sliders into a 0.6-inch-thick handle without turning it into a brick is genuinely difficult.
The blade is 67 layers of Damascus steel over a 9Cr18MoV core, rated 58 to 60 HRC, and the bottle opener uses a dedicated bartender-style slider instead of just being a cutout. When both sliders are retracted, the tool sits flat as a phone stand for devices up to 0.3 inches thick. LUNARK already delivered over 2,000 units of their first product, so they’re not a Kickstarter ghost. The Dual measures 3.1 inches open, weighs 2.5 ounces, and comes with your choice of Ebony or Golden Sandalwood handles against a heat-treated 420 stainless steel frame. It ships January 2027 for $60, and it’s one of the smarter takes on the pocket multitool I’ve seen in a while.
The Dual is LUNARK’s follow-up to the Edge & Pop One, a single-slider Damascus pocket knife and bottle opener that shipped to over 2,000 owners worldwide. The One earned a solid reputation for sharpness and out-of-the-box quality, with owners specifically calling out the Damascus blade and the compact feel. The Dual takes that foundation and adds a second independent slider, expanding the tool from two functions to three without meaningfully growing the footprint. That second slider is really the whole story here, and it’s where the design jumps from a good EDC knife to something genuinely worth talking about.
Drop-point Damascus with 67 folded layers is impressive on any knife, but packing it into a 1.1-inch, 0.08-inch-thin profile on a tool this compact is a genuine flex. The 9Cr18MoV high-carbon stainless steel core gives it a Rockwell hardness of 58 to 60 HRC, solid enough for daily use without constant sharpening. That covers tape, packaging, rope, leather, and light wood carving without much drama. Damascus patterning also varies with every forge, so no two blades will look exactly the same, which is a nice bonus for the collector side of the EDC brain.
Nobody wants to balance their phone against a coffee mug during lunch. When both sliders are fully closed, the Dual holds your phone in portrait or landscape on any flat surface, supporting devices up to 0.3 inches thick, which covers most phones and small tablets. There’s also a useful bonus in that same closed position: the body can press buttons or pull handles without deploying the blade, making it handy for doorbells or latches when your hands are full.
LUNARK paired heat-treated 420 stainless steel for the frame, rated 45 to 48 HRC, with either Ebony or Golden Sandalwood handles, and the result looks nothing like a tactical tool. The wood finishes bring warmth against the industrial steel, and the rectangular silhouette reads more desk object than gear catalog. Allan, LUNARK’s founder, wanted a refined everyday carry rather than something that looks like it belongs on a Molle pouch. Ebony runs darker and more formal, while Golden Sandalwood brings a warmer natural grain that pairs nicely with the Damascus blade patterns.
Pricing starts at $39 on the Super Early Bird tier, saving $21 off the $60 retail price. That’s a solid entry point for a Damascus EDC with this level of mechanical sophistication, and you still choose your wood handle at a later stage after ordering. For anyone wanting the full LUNARK lineup, the Family Pack bundles one Edge & Pop One (LUNARK’s single-blade knife from last year) with two Edge & Pop Duals for $89, saving $91 against the combined retail of $180. It’s a good option if you want both generations of the tool or have someone in mind who’d genuinely appreciate a gifted EDC.
