This Spanish Home Uses Curved Roofs and Cork Walls to Stay Naturally Cool

Some houses make their presence known through bold shapes, while others seem to grow naturally from the landscape.  Casa Vereda, designed by L’Aura Ortín Architecture For Happiness, finds a balance between the two. Set in the Spanish countryside, the residence draws inspiration from regional construction traditions, agricultural heritage, and Mediterranean living. Its curved roofs, earthy materials, and distinctive green shutters give the home a contemporary identity that feels rooted in its surroundings.

The architecture is defined by a succession of curved rooflines that ripple across the long, low structure. Constructed using traditional Catalan vaulting techniques and handcrafted bricks, these sculptural forms reference a building method deeply embedded in Spanish architectural history. The exterior is finished in pale sprayed cork, creating a continuous texture across the walls and roof while helping regulate temperature and moisture.

Designer: L’Aura Ortín Architecture For Happiness

A row of tall, leaf green shutters adds a vibrant contrast to the neutral facade. Inspired by traditional Mallorcan designs, the shutters were custom-designed by the architects and made from powder-coated aluminum to provide shade, privacy, and security. Surrounded by vegetation, the house takes on an almost agricultural appearance, recalling the farm buildings and cultivated terraces that characterize the region.

Alongside the residence, a spacious patio paved with handcrafted terracotta tiles creates an inviting outdoor gathering space. The earthy flooring references the area’s agricultural heritage, while large glass doors connect the terrace directly to the interiors. Adjustable shutters help control sunlight throughout the day, making the transition between indoors and outdoors comfortable even during warmer months.

Inside, the living room unfolds beneath a dramatic Catalan vaulted ceiling made from handcrafted bricks in varying shades of terracotta, pink, and sandy beige. The exposed brick brings warmth and texture to the spacious interior, contrasting with smooth white walls and polished terrazzo flooring. Beyond its appearance, the terrazzo contributes to passive temperature regulation by absorbing warmth from the winter sun and staying cool during summer when the shutters are closed.

Modular sofas and ottomans upholstered in rust colored fabric form a comfortable seating arrangement around a simple pine coffee table. A freestanding black fireplace separates the lounge from the dining area without interrupting the open layout. Tall glass doors flood the space with daylight, while cherry-toned timber doors and pale wooden cabinets complete the warm material palette.

The adjoining dining area features a long, pale timber table paired with matching chairs and benches. A simple white dome pendant hangs overhead, while a low wooden sideboard provides storage along the wall. The exposed brick ceiling stretches across the space, adding character to an otherwise minimal setting.

Beside the dining room, the kitchen introduces richer tones through pine cabinetry lacquered in a cherry finish. The reddish wood contrasts with light colored countertops, while a long island provides additional workspace and casual seating with timber stools. Integrated appliances and streamlined cabinetry maintain a clean appearance, allowing the natural materials and vaulted ceiling to remain the focal points.

The bedrooms continue the home’s restrained aesthetic, with exposed brick vaults, white walls, pale terrazzo floors, and natural timber furniture. Unlike the communal areas, these rooms have lower ceilings that create a more intimate atmosphere while making them easier to heat and cool. In the main bedroom, a simple wooden bed is accompanied by a floating bedside table, neutral bedding, and a full-length mirror. The second bedroom features a single timber bed, a compact desk, and a matching wardrobe, with a mustard colored throw adding a subtle pop of color. Glass doors fitted with slatted shutters provide natural light and ventilation while allowing occupants to adjust privacy and shade.

The bathrooms introduce a softer palette through pale gray rectangular wall tiles, warm pink cabinetry, and terracotta colored vessel sinks. One features a floating vanity with a white countertop and round mirror, while the other includes a wider vanity and a large rectangular mirror reflecting the walk-in shower opposite. Contemporary fixtures and minimal glass detailing keep the spaces open and bright, with exposed brick ceilings maintaining continuity throughout the interiors.

Architectural drawings reveal a long, single-story layout organized around everyday functionality. A two-car garage occupies one end, the open living, dining, and kitchen spaces form the center, and the bedrooms and bathrooms sit toward the opposite end. The communal spaces open directly onto the generous terrace, strengthening the home’s relationship with its garden and surroundings.

Casa Vereda finds its charm in the thoughtful reinterpretation of familiar architectural elements. The curved brick vaults, Mallorcan-inspired shutters, terracotta surfaces, and cork exterior serve practical purposes while giving the residence a distinctive identity. Through a careful balance of traditional craftsmanship, passive climate strategies, and contemporary interiors, L’Aura Ortín Architecture For Happiness has created a home that feels entirely at ease with its rural Mediterranean setting.

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This Minimalist Bamboo Coffee Table Hides Everyday Clutter in Plain Sight

A coffee table usually has a fairly straightforward job: hold a cup of coffee, a few books, and whatever else happens to accumulate in the living room. But what if it could accommodate everyday clutter without putting any of it on display? Designed by Marek Kounovský of MK Designers in collaboration with Prague-based furniture company Frayer, the Handle Table takes this familiar piece of furniture and gives it a more considered purpose. Made primarily from bamboo, the table incorporates concealed storage, an integrated handle, and a restrained silhouette that allows its material and construction to take center stage.

The design takes inspiration from the Japanese principle of hodo-hodo, which loosely translates to the idea of “just enough.” Rooted in moderation and balance, the philosophy encourages appreciating things that serve their purpose without excess. Kounovský translates this thinking into furniture by reducing the table to its essential elements. Rather than introducing elaborate mechanisms or decorative features, he focuses on proportion, geometry, and the relationship between form and function. Every visible detail has a reason to exist, and the absence of unnecessary embellishment gives the table its distinct character.

Designer: MK Designers

One of its most interesting features is the concealed storage compartment, which is incorporated directly into the table’s geometry. Coffee tables often become gathering places for remote controls, magazines, chargers, and other small objects that are useful to have nearby but can quickly make a room feel cluttered. Handle Table addresses this familiar situation by providing a dedicated space for everyday belongings while preserving its clean exterior. The compartment remains visually discreet, allowing the table to maintain its sculptural appearance even as it performs an additional function.

The integrated handle is another subtle yet important element of the design. Rather than appearing as a separate attachment, it is incorporated into the tabletop itself, creating a functional feature that feels consistent with the overall composition. This detail makes the table easier to move and reposition, an especially relevant consideration for contemporary interiors where furniture frequently accommodates different activities throughout the day. The table can shift between spaces and arrangements without demanding a permanent position, extending its usefulness beyond that of a conventional stationary coffee table.

Material selection plays an equally significant role in the project. Bamboo forms the main structure, bringing its recognizable grain and natural texture into the otherwise reduced design. The surface is treated with an oil-based wood stain, developed through experimentation with application techniques suited specifically to bamboo. Instead of concealing the material beneath an opaque coating, the finish emphasizes its inherent structure and tactile qualities. The resulting surface gives the table a sense of depth while retaining the character of the bamboo itself.

This attention to finishing is particularly important in a design with so few visual elements. Without decorative distractions, the material becomes one of the primary ways the object communicates its identity. The stained bamboo, precise construction, and carefully controlled proportions work together to create visual interest through restraint. Even the concealed compartment contributes to this approach, demonstrating how practical considerations can become part of the furniture’s fundamental structure rather than additions made after the form has been established.

First presented at the 14th Czech Design Week international design festival in Prague, Handle Table reflects the collaboration between Kounovský’s design practice and Frayer’s approach to bamboo furniture. The project brings together an interest in thoughtful material treatment and an understanding of how furniture participates in everyday routines. Its simplicity is the result of deliberate decisions about what to include, what to conceal, and what can be left out altogether.

There is something appealing about furniture that makes room for the realities of daily life without constantly drawing attention to its cleverness. Handle Table does not attempt to reinvent the coffee table through an abundance of features. Instead, it refines the familiar object through a few carefully integrated gestures. The storage keeps essentials close, the handle makes movement easier, and the bamboo brings warmth and texture to its compact form. In a category where additional features are often presented as improvements, Kounovský offers a different proposition: perhaps a well-designed object needs only enough to do its job beautifully.

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This Japanese Doll-Inspired Side Table Fits Two Contrasting Shapes Together Like a Perfect Puzzle

There is something oddly satisfying about two seemingly different shapes fitting together perfectly. The kind of visual harmony that makes you look twice, wondering how something so simple can feel so thoughtfully resolved. The Kokeshi Table, designed by Barcelona-based designer Luis Gimeno, captures precisely that feeling. With its sculptural silhouette, contrasting colors, and playful approach to functionality, this side table makes an impression without demanding attention.

Inspired by the traditional Japanese Kokeshi doll, the table borrows from the familiar proportions of these handcrafted wooden figures, known for their cylindrical bodies and rounded heads. Rather than interpreting the inspiration literally, Gimeno translates its defining characteristics into a contemporary piece of furniture. The result is an intriguing composition of two distinct shapes that appear to belong together, despite their differences.

Designer: Meguso

At the heart of the design is an interplay between a black cylindrical structure and a rounded wooden surface. The latter fits neatly into the cylinder’s silhouette, creating a slender waist where the two forms meet. This carefully considered intersection is perhaps the most captivating aspect of the table, with each curve appearing to accommodate the other effortlessly. There is an almost puzzle-like quality to the arrangement, where the satisfaction comes from seeing two contrasting geometries find their perfect fit. Although visually distinct, the two surfaces feel inseparable, each contributing to the identity of the whole.

Yet, the decision to bring these shapes together was motivated by more than aesthetics. Gimeno’s initial idea was to create a table with two separate surfaces, each accommodating a different kind of everyday use. The black surface offers a place for objects that tend to remain where they are, perhaps a favorite book, a small plant, or a decorative object. The rounded wooden surface, meanwhile, serves more immediate needs: a cup of morning coffee, the book currently being read, or something temporarily set aside. This subtle distinction introduces a sense of order without prescribing a routine, allowing both surfaces to accommodate changing habits throughout the day.

The choice of color further strengthens the relationship between the two forms. The matte black cylindrical body provides a strong visual anchor, while the warm, natural wood introduces softness and contrast. Together, they create a balanced composition that feels graphic without becoming overwhelming. The darker surface emphasizes the table’s distinctive silhouette, while the lighter rounded element draws attention to the point where the two shapes meet. The contrast makes the geometry easier to appreciate, allowing the design to communicate through its proportions rather than additional ornamentation.

There is also a versatility to the Kokeshi Table that makes it particularly appealing. Its compact sculptural presence could sit comfortably beside a sofa, complement a reading corner, or become an unexpected accent in a bedroom. In a minimalist interior, its contrasting forms offer just enough visual interest to interrupt an otherwise restrained setting. Within a more eclectic space, its playful character can hold its own among expressive furniture and decorative pieces. Customizable dimensions, colors, and wood types allow for further variation, while the relationship between the two forms keeps the design recognizable.

What makes the Kokeshi Table memorable is how naturally its visual and functional ideas coexist. The shapes are satisfying to look at, the contrasting surfaces have a practical purpose, and the reference to a traditional object gives the piece a sense of character without overwhelming its contemporary expression. Gimeno has created something that feels equally comfortable being appreciated as a small sculpture or used as an everyday side table.

In a space, the Kokeshi Table would be a muted statement piece, quietly distinctive and surprisingly adaptable. It is the kind of furniture that rewards a closer look, where the smallest detail, the precise meeting of two curves, becomes the most compelling part of the design.

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This Compact Wooden Desk Unfolds to Reveal a Workspace Full of Hidden Surprises

A desk is usually understood as a fixed surface, a place where work happens, and objects accumulate. Brazilian architect and designer Lia Siqueira approaches this familiar piece of furniture with a different proposition. Her Open Sesame Desk is conceived as an object that changes with its user, expanding through a series of openings to reveal surfaces, drawers, and concealed compartments. What initially appears to be a compact wooden desk gradually unfolds into a more elaborate workspace, where the simple gesture of opening becomes an experience of its own.

Designed in 2025 for Brazilian furniture brand ETEL, the desk takes its name from the famous expression in the tale of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. In the story, the words “Open Sesame” unlock a cave filled with hidden treasures. Siqueira translates this familiar moment of discovery into furniture design, replacing the mysterious cave with a carefully organized wooden structure. Its contents remain protected and concealed until the user chooses to reveal them. The reference lends the piece a playful character, while the design itself remains grounded in the practical needs of a working environment.

Designer: Lia Siqueira

The desk’s most distinctive quality lies in the contrast between its two configurations. When closed, it maintains a restrained profile, containing its various functions within a discreet volume. Opening the piece introduces an entirely different spatial arrangement. Previously hidden drawers and compartments become accessible, while additional surfaces extend the available working area. Each opening reveals another layer of utility, allowing a single piece of furniture to accommodate activities that might otherwise require several separate storage solutions.

This transformation is particularly relevant to the way contemporary workspaces are occupied. A desk rarely serves one purpose throughout the day. It may hold a laptop in the morning, become a writing surface in the afternoon, or accommodate drawings, documents, and personal belongings as different tasks unfold. Open Sesame responds to these changing requirements through its physical adaptability. Rather than permanently exposing every storage space and working surface, the furniture allows them to be accessed when needed and concealed afterward.

Measuring 100 by 50 by 76 centimeters, approximately 39.4 inches wide, 19.7 inches deep, and 29.9 inches high, the wooden desk maintains a relatively compact footprint. Its dimensions make the internal arrangement especially significant, as the design creates additional usable space through movement rather than a permanently larger structure. The expansion is integrated into the furniture itself, preserving the relationship between its proportions and functional capacity.

There is also an interesting consideration of visibility within the design. Conventional desks often leave their contents exposed, with organization dependent on external accessories or separate furniture. Siqueira builds that organization into the object, giving each stored item the possibility of remaining out of sight until required. Papers, tools, and everyday essentials can occupy the internal compartments without constantly sharing the main working surface. The user decides when the desk should reveal its contents and when it should return to its quieter, closed state.

Perhaps the most engaging aspect of Open Sesame is the importance it places on physical interaction. The furniture encourages a sequence of gestures that makes accessing its contents feel deliberate. Opening a section changes the arrangement of the desk, introduces new possibilities, and invites the user to explore its construction. This relationship between movement and discovery gives the piece a character that extends beyond its functional specifications. Its transformation becomes part of the daily routine rather than an occasional feature.

The desk also reflects an approach to furniture in which storage is treated as an architectural element. Its compartments are concealed within the overall composition, and their gradual revelation changes how the object is perceived. The distinction between the exterior and interior becomes essential to its identity. From the outside, the desk communicates restraint; from within, it offers a more intricate arrangement of surfaces and spaces. These contrasting qualities allow it to balance visual simplicity with an unexpectedly generous range of uses. Its appeal comes from the experience of using it as much as from its appearance. Siqueira gives the act of opening a meaningful role, turning an ordinary interaction with furniture into a small moment of anticipation. Like the story that inspired its name, the desk suggests that what is hidden can be just as intriguing as what is immediately visible.

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A Suspended Walkway Leads to This Tiny Cabin Overlooking the Salish Sea

A cabin this small could easily become an exercise in clever storage. On Blakely Island, Wittman Estes has taken a more interesting approach.  The Seattle-based architecture studio designed a 400-square-foot guest retreat that feels less concerned with proving how much can fit inside and more interested in how little architecture is actually needed to make a place feel complete.

Set within Washington’s San Juan Island Archipelago, the cabin occupies a dramatic piece of terrain between a mature Douglas fir and a large glacial erratic boulder. Beyond the trees lies the Salish Sea. Rather than settling heavily into the rocky shoreline, the structure is lifted above it on slender supports, giving the impression that it has been carefully inserted into the forest rather than constructed over it.

Designer: Wittman Estes

The main studio measures just 16 by 20 feet, drawing from the tradition of simple shelters in the woods, from Thoreau’s Walden Cabin to Le Corbusier’s Cabanon. Yet the interior does not feel particularly austere. A kitchen, bathroom, Murphy bed, living area, and loft with two bunks all occupy the compact volume, each given a precise place within the plan.

The difficulty of the site helped shape the architecture. Blakely Island’s steep, rocky shoreline made conventional construction complicated, particularly if heavy machinery had to pass through the surrounding forest. Many components were therefore fabricated at the contractor’s yard in Everett before being transported to the island by barge. Modular steel frames were then lifted onto a minimal point foundation. Western red cedar siding, milled from trees on the island, was left unfinished so it could gradually weather into the landscape.

That sensitivity continues through the experience of arrival. A narrow suspended metal walkway threads through the trees toward the entrance, allowing views of Thatcher Bay to open gradually between the branches. Powder-coated steel railings line the path and deck, while a simple steel awning shelters the fir entry door.

Inside, the material palette becomes warmer. Birch plywood wraps the walls, fir beams remain exposed overhead, and solid ipe runs underfoot. The restrained finishes allow the view to dominate. Large sliding glass doors face the water, visually extending the living space far beyond its modest footprint.

Near the center of the cabin, a suspended black fireplace rotates through 360 degrees, allowing the fire to face either the interior or the cantilevered deck outside. In warmer weather, the open glass doors effectively turn the deck into another living room. During colder months, the same glazing keeps the forest and water present while the cabin becomes a sheltered place from which to watch the weather change.

Even the fireplace tools have been treated as part of the architecture. Wittman Estes designed a movable steel fire cart that slips neatly into an angled niche nearby. It is a small detail, but an important one in a room where visual clutter could quickly overwhelm the space.

The kitchen follows the same logic. Positioned beneath the sleeping loft, it occupies one of the lowest parts of the cabin, reserving the taller volume for the main living area. A cast-in-place concrete sink and countertop are paired with dark fixtures and discreet integrated appliances. Against the birch plywood and fir, the concrete provides enough contrast to define the kitchen without separating it visually from the rest of the interior.

The living room becomes the primary bedroom when a Murphy bed folds down from the wall. During the day, it nearly disappears, preserving the openness of the studio. At night, the bed faces east toward the morning light, while a felt headboard introduces softness to the otherwise restrained palette of wood, steel, and concrete.

At the northwest corner, the bathroom is given its own relationship with the landscape. A glass corner window looks directly into the surrounding forest, preventing the compact room from feeling enclosed. Above the kitchen, a sleeping loft adds two bunks without expanding the cabin’s footprint, accessed by a custom maple ladder.

This use of vertical space reflects the logic of the entire project. Nothing feels squeezed into an arbitrary corner. Each function occupies the part of the volume where it makes the most sense, while the architecture continues to work around the existing terrain rather than attempting to reorganize it.

What makes the Blakely Island Cabin compelling is not simply how much has been fitted into 400 square feet. Its greater achievement is making those 400 square feet feel secondary to the experience of being there. The folding bed, compact kitchen, and sleeping loft provide efficiency, but the architecture rarely asks you to admire that efficiency.

Instead, it directs attention outward: toward the Douglas fir beside the house, the rock beneath it, the changing weather, and the long stretch of Salish Sea beyond the glass. For a building inspired by the idea of living simply in the woods, that may be its most convincing gesture. The cabin does not try to provide more space than it has. It simply makes the space beyond its walls feel like part of the room.

 

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This 3D-Printed Saddle Is Designed Around the Horse, Not Adjusted to It

A saddle is one of the most intimate pieces of equipment in equestrian sport. It sits at the exact point where two athletes meet, translating weight, movement, balance, and intention between horse and rider. Yet for something so central to that relationship, saddle fitting has remained surprisingly dependent on traditional measuring methods, adjustment, and compromise. Catalyst asks what happens when that process becomes precise enough to design around the individual horse from the beginning.

Designed by Hallie Eskey, Catalyst is a custom-fit, 3D-printed jumping saddle developed specifically for the demands of show jumping. The sport subjects both horse and rider to repeated impact as they accelerate, take off, land, and immediately reorganize their balance for the next obstacle. In that environment, the saddle has to do far more than simply provide a seat. Poor fit can create pressure, discomfort, and injury for the horse while interfering with the subtle communication between horse and rider. Catalyst approaches the saddle as performance equipment shaped by anatomy rather than a standardized object that the body must adapt to.

Designer: Hallie Eskey

The process begins with LiDAR 3D scanning. Instead of relying solely on manual measurements of the horse’s back, the horse is digitally captured and brought into CAD software. That information becomes the basis for a parametric lattice structure modeled specifically around the horse’s curves. The result is a level of customization that would be difficult to achieve through conventional hand measuring alone.

That lattice is also Catalyst’s most recognizable visual feature. Rather than hiding its internal structure beneath layers of material, the saddle leaves its carbon fiber geometry exposed. It gives the object an almost architectural quality. The pattern is not there simply to make Catalyst look futuristic. Carbon fiber allows the structure to remain lightweight while providing shock absorption, addressing two qualities that become especially important when horse and rider are repeatedly experiencing the force of landing.

There is something compelling about seeing a product associated with centuries of tradition adopt a visual language that feels closer to computational design, performance footwear, or aerospace engineering. Yet Catalyst does not attempt to erase the craft associated with saddle making. Leather remains part of the object, and traditional leather craft was incorporated into the development of the project. The result sits somewhere between artisan practice and digital fabrication, allowing each to solve the problems it handles best.

The same thinking extends into the way Catalyst is assembled. The saddle is designed around a reduced number of components, with rivets used in place of synthetic adhesives. This makes the construction easier to disassemble, repair, and replace in parts rather than treating the saddle as a permanently bonded object. It is a quieter approach to sustainability than simply changing materials. Instead, longevity is designed into the architecture of the product itself.

That consideration is particularly relevant for highly specialized sporting equipment. Performance products tend to sit in an uncomfortable space between durability and technological progression. They need to withstand demanding use, yet improvements in materials and manufacturing continually push them forward. Designing components that can be separated and replaced gives Catalyst a way to accommodate both realities.

The final saddle grew out of a 20-week development process that included research with equestrian professionals, saddle teardowns, detailed sketching, two full-scale prototypes, iterative CAD modeling, and parametric development in Grasshopper. Those stages matter because Catalyst could easily have become an exercise in applying an impressive manufacturing technology to a familiar object. Instead, the technology follows the actual constraints of the sport and the anatomy of the animal.

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Catalyst is that its innovation begins with fit rather than form. The striking lattice and contemporary silhouette are consequences of rethinking how a saddle can be made, adjusted, repaired, and individualized. 3D scanning allows the horse to become the starting geometry. 3D printing allows that geometry to become physical. Carbon fiber responds to weight and impact. Riveted construction considers what happens when the product eventually needs attention.

Catalyst suggests a different future for equestrian equipment, one where customization does not depend entirely on adjustment after manufacturing. Instead, the individual horse can inform the object before it is made. For a sport built around communication between two bodies, designing the equipment around those bodies feels less like a technological spectacle and more like a logical next step.

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This Thames-Side House Rises With Floodwater Instead of Fighting It

From the riverbank in Buckinghamshire, Formosa does not immediately look like a piece of experimental engineering. That restraint is part of its appeal. Designed by Baca Architects along the River Thames, the 225-square-metre, three-storey home has the pitched roof, generous glazing, and garden relationship of a contemporary riverside house. For most of the year, that is exactly how it behaves. The unusual part is buried beneath it. Formosa sits inside a concrete wet dock and has been designed to leave the ground when the river rises.

The house was developed for a site within a designated flood zone, where building in the conventional sense presented a difficult choice. A permanently elevated house could have cleared projected flood levels, but doing so would have pushed the main living floor almost an entire story above the garden. Instead, Baca Architects designed the structure to remain close to the landscape during ordinary conditions and move only when the water makes movement necessary. The ground floor sits roughly 1 meter above ground level, preserving a much more immediate relationship between the house, its terraces, and the river beyond.

Designer: Baca Architects

Its mechanics are surprisingly straightforward. Beneath the building is a concrete pontoon that acts as a buoyant base. During a flood, water enters the surrounding concrete dock and gradually lifts the house. Four vertical guideposts, sometimes described as dolphins, keep the structure aligned as it rises, preventing it from drifting or rotating. Flexible service connections move with the building, allowing electricity and water services to remain connected as the house changes elevation. In its current configuration, Formosa can rise as much as 2.7 meters.  Baca Architects reports that during the severe winter floods of 2019 and 2020, the house rose and settled back down as intended.

What makes the project compelling is that the engineering does not demand constant attention from the people living inside it. There are relatively few moving parts. The river itself provides the force required to lift the building. As the dock fills, buoyancy does the work. The concrete base is engineered with enough weight and ballast to keep the structure stable, while the guideposts control its vertical movement. The system is tested periodically by filling the dock with water and checking the building’s ability to float safely. Formosa is less a machine disguised as a house than a house designed to understand the physical behavior of water.

The garden is part of that system too. Terraced levels create what Baca calls an intuitive landscape, allowing rising water to become visible before it reaches the house. Reeds, shrubs, lawn, and changing ground levels create an informal warning system that makes flood behavior readable through the landscape. Instead of treating water as something that must remain outside the boundaries of domestic life, Formosa builds an expected relationship with it.

The sectional logic reveals the project most clearly. Its main components can be read almost like a diagram of adaptation: solar shading, the pontoon beneath the house, the terraced garden, maintenance access, flexible connections, and a servicing hub. Each element has a fairly ordinary architectural or technical role. Together, they allow the entire building to change its position without fundamentally changing how it functions.

There is, of course, a cost attached to that adaptability. Baca has estimated that the amphibious system added around 20 percent compared with a similar conventional house with a basement. Specialized foundations, a wet dock, high water table construction, flexible utilities, and flood planning mean the idea is considerably more complex than simply placing a house beside a river. Yet the project makes an interesting argument about what that additional investment buys. Instead of permanently raising the architecture in anticipation of a rare event, the building maintains an everyday connection to the ground and reacts only when conditions demand it.

That distinction gives Formosa significance beyond its engineering novelty. It suggests that resilience does not always have to look defensive. Architecture facing environmental uncertainty can retreat, resist, or, in this case, move. From the garden, the house remains close enough to feel grounded. When the Thames rises, the section of the building quietly changes. The river lifts the house, the guideposts hold its position, the services travel with it, and once the water recedes, Formosa returns to exactly where it started.

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This Convertible Bench Lets You Choose Between Company and Privacy

Cities are designed around togetherness. Parks, campuses, transit hubs, waiting areas, and public plazas usually assume that people want to sit near one another, talk, observe, or participate in the energy around them. What these spaces often overlook is the opposite need. Sometimes people simply want a few minutes of separation without having to leave the public realm entirely. CONVERTIBLE, a multifunctional privacy chair by industrial designer Ümithan Üçok, begins with that contradiction and turns it into a piece of adaptable public furniture.

The project combines two familiar furniture types that usually serve very different social behaviors: the public bench and the privacy chair. Instead of deciding that a space must support either interaction or isolation, CONVERTIBLE allows the same object to accommodate both. At first glance, it functions as shared seating, maintaining the openness expected from furniture placed in communal environments. Its form can then be reconfigured to create a more enclosed seating condition, giving one person a stronger sense of personal territory.

Designer:  Ümithan ÜÇOK

That shift feels increasingly relevant to contemporary urban life. Public space has become densely programmed around movement and interaction, while opportunities for temporary retreat are much harder to find. Privacy usually requires entering a building, booking a room, going home, or withdrawing completely from the surroundings. CONVERTIBLE proposes something less absolute. It allows a person to remain present within a shared environment while establishing a temporary boundary around themselves.

This is what makes the chair more interesting than a conventional privacy pod. Its purpose is not permanent isolation. Privacy becomes a condition that can appear and disappear according to the person using it. The furniture responds to changing behavior rather than prescribing one specific way of sitting. Someone could use it openly while meeting a friend, waiting between appointments, or taking a break. The same seating element could later become a more sheltered place for reading, working, making a phone call, or simply spending some time alone.

There is also an important spatial advantage to combining these functions. Public furniture usually has to justify the area it occupies, especially in places where space is limited. Providing separate benches and separate privacy seating can quickly make an environment crowded or inefficient. A convertible object allows the same footprint to serve different needs at different moments. Its multifunctionality therefore becomes more than a visual gesture. It gives planners and designers a way to make public seating more flexible without filling the environment with additional furniture.

The project also raises a quieter question about what privacy actually means in a public setting. Privacy does not always require a sealed room or complete visual separation. A shift in orientation, a surrounding surface, or a clearly defined personal zone can be enough to change how exposed someone feels. By moving between bench and privacy chair, CONVERTIBLE uses furniture itself to create that psychological distinction.

Üçok’s project is ultimately built around a simple observation: people do not behave socially all the time. Our need for connection changes throughout the day, and the spaces around us rarely change with it. CONVERTIBLE gives that change a physical form. Instead of treating public seating as a fixed object with a fixed purpose, it imagines furniture as something that can negotiate between openness and withdrawal, allowing the same public space to feel communal one moment and personal the next.

That flexibility matters because public life is rarely one mood for long. A plaza, campus, or waiting area has to hold conversation, observation, work, and quiet retreat, often within the same hour and the same footprint. By letting one object move between shared bench and privacy chair, CONVERTIBLE treats those shifts as ordinary rather than exceptional. It does not solve urban loneliness or overcrowding on its own, but it does suggest a more responsive kind of public furniture: seating that can stay open when company is welcome, and close in just enough when someone needs a moment alone.

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This Stained Glass Car Imagines a Future Where You Sleep Through Your Commute

Cars of the future are usually imagined as sleek metallic pods packed with screens, sensors, and glowing interfaces. Dominic Wilcox went in almost the opposite direction. His vision of autonomous transportation looks more like a miniature cathedral on wheels, made from hundreds of pieces of hand-cut stained glass with little more than a bed inside.

Called the Stained Glass Driverless Sleeper Car, the concept was created for the Dezeen and MINI Frontiers exhibition during the London Design Festival. Wilcox imagines the vehicle existing in 2059, at a point when autonomous driving has become so dependable that the architecture of the car itself can finally change. Instead of designing another futuristic cockpit, he asks a much more entertaining question: if nobody needs to drive anymore, why should a car still be designed around a driver?

Designer: Dominic Wilcox

In Wilcox’s imagined 2059, computer-controlled vehicles have statistically become safer than human-driven cars. He even proposes a fictional future in which the Digital M1 motorway goes through 2058 without a single collision because only autonomous vehicles are allowed on it. Within that scenario, familiar automotive features such as steering wheels, bumpers, and even some forms of conventional safety equipment begin to lose their importance. What remains is essentially a moving room.

That idea becomes the foundation of the entire project. The motor and automated navigation technology would be contained inside a standardized modular chassis, while almost any kind of living space could be constructed above it. Wilcox’s prototype happens to be designed for one sleeping passenger. There is a bed inside; the passenger selects a destination, climbs in, and can quite literally sleep through the commute.

The exterior makes the concept even stranger and more memorable. Instead of carbon fiber or polished aluminum, Wilcox built the shell from stained glass using the copper foil technique. The inspiration came after visiting Durham Cathedral and being struck by its stained glass windows. He wanted to take that visual experience, associated with centuries-old architecture and craftsmanship, and pull it into an entirely different context.

It is a recurring approach in Wilcox’s work. He has previously embedded GPS technology into traditional brogue shoes, pairing something familiar and almost nostalgic with contemporary technology. The sleeper car follows the same logic on a much larger scale. Its shell may look historic, decorative, and fragile, but underneath sits a computer-designed structure representing a highly automated future.

Building it was appropriately hands-on. Middlesex University’s product design department helped develop the chassis base and wooden support frame before Wilcox moved the structure to Lead and Light, a stained glass workshop in Camden, London. Having never worked with glass before, he first completed a five-day workshop with glass artist Lynette Wrigley.

He then spent six weeks cutting individual pieces of glass by hand and soldering them onto the frame, with assistance from recent graduate Massimo Cappella. The finished shell sits over the underlying structure almost like a piece of inhabitable stained glass sculpture. Photographs of the project show the transparent shell opening upward to allow its passenger inside, then glowing when illuminated.

There are small pieces of automotive history hidden within the design as well. Since the exhibition was supported by MINI, Wilcox referenced the original Mini introduced in 1959, exactly one century before his imagined 2059 scenario. Classic Mini tires appear beneath the glass body, while a traditional Mini boot handle has been repurposed as the handle used to lift the hydraulically assisted shell.

The sleeper car is really just one possible outcome of a much bigger transportation idea. Wilcox also developed Taxirobot, a website concept imagining how people might order autonomous vehicles in 2059 instead of owning one permanently. Passengers could choose a vehicle based on the number of people traveling, then select an interior such as a restaurant, office, jacuzzi, or bed. Even the exterior could be selected, with possibilities ranging from a wooden cabin to a retro 2015 car or Wilcox’s stained glass mini cathedral.

It turns the car from a product into a temporary piece of architecture. Your morning commute could happen inside an office. A longer journey could become dinner. A late-night ride home could simply become sleep. And that may be the most interesting part of Wilcox’s concept. Autonomous driving is usually treated as a technological problem centered around making the existing car smarter.

The Stained Glass Driverless Sleeper Car imagines what happens after that problem has already been solved. Once nobody has to drive, perhaps the most exciting question is no longer what the car can do, but what the space inside it can become.

The post This Stained Glass Car Imagines a Future Where You Sleep Through Your Commute first appeared on Yanko Design.

Thin Acrylic Folds Like Origami to Give This Chair Its Inflated, Sculptural Form

 

A folding chair is usually designed around one simple promise: disappear when it is not needed. This concept takes that familiar piece of furniture in a more expressive direction. Instead of treating folding purely as a practical mechanism, the chair turns the act of folding into its defining visual language. The result feels somewhere between an origami object, an inflated form, and a piece of transparent sculpture.

 

Its shape begins with an interesting contradiction. Acrylic is naturally thin and rigid, yet the chair appears soft, rounded, and almost inflated. The designer draws inspiration from origami and balloons, two references that create volume from something initially flat. Thin acrylic sheets are folded into pronounced curves, producing the appearance of substantial thickness without relying on a heavy solid mass. Visually, the chair feels generous and substantial, while the construction helps reduce some of the weight typically associated with acrylic furniture of a similar perceived volume.

 

Designer: Jihong Lee

 

 

There is something especially appealing about the way the material is treated. Acrylic is often associated with crisp edges, polished surfaces, and a certain visual coldness. Here, those expectations are disrupted by broad curls and smooth transitions. The chair is hard to the touch, but its silhouette suggests softness. Its curved surfaces resemble something closer to pudding or a slowly inflated form than a conventional rigid seat. That mismatch between what the eye expects and what the material actually feels like gives the design much of its personality. It almost invites you to reach out and touch it simply to understand what you are looking at.

 

The construction is equally considered. The folded acrylic sits over a structured chair leg system and can be fixed in place without additional bolt assembly or bonding. This allows the material itself to take on a structural role while keeping the overall appearance clean. There are fewer visible interruptions, so the chair reads as a continuous form rather than a collection of assembled components.

 

 

Its flat-packed nature adds another layer to the idea. Folding becomes more than a visual gesture. It becomes part of how the chair can be transported, assembled, and understood. There is a satisfying DIY quality to the process, almost like completing a large piece of origami and watching a usable object emerge from a flat sheet. That sense of participation makes the chair feel approachable despite its sculptural appearance.

This is what gives the design its charm. It does not hide the logic behind its construction. The folds are visible, understandable, and central to its character. There is an immediacy to that simplicity. You can look at the chair and begin to imagine how it came together.

As an object in a room, it would easily become a focal point. Its transparent material keeps it visually light, while the exaggerated curves give it enough presence to shift the atmosphere of a space. It feels playful without becoming novelty furniture, and experimental without losing its function as a chair.

The strongest idea is ultimately quite simple: take a thin, rigid sheet and make it feel full, soft, and substantial through folding alone. In doing so, the chair turns a familiar material into something unexpectedly tactile and expressive. It brings the pleasure of making, folding, and assembling into furniture design, giving the finished object the curious charm of something that looks as enjoyable to build as it is to live with.

The post Thin Acrylic Folds Like Origami to Give This Chair Its Inflated, Sculptural Form first appeared on Yanko Design.