The Modular Table That Actually Works for Public Spaces

A table is arguably the most taken-for-granted object in design. Four legs, a flat surface, repeat. We have been manufacturing and sitting around tables in essentially the same configuration for centuries, and most of us have never once stopped to ask whether the table itself is actually working for us. Fengfan Yang clearly did.

Yang is a Stuttgart-based industrial designer who recently collaborated with Danish furniture brand +Halle on a project called Hang On, and the result is one of those rare designs that makes you feel a little embarrassed for not questioning it sooner. The concept is deceptively simple: strip the table back to its most essential structural elements, then let everything else hang. Literally.

Designers: Fengfan Yang + Halle

The premise behind Hang On is that the conventional table carries a lot of unnecessary baggage. Fixed components, bulky frames, surfaces that are either too large or too rigid for the spaces they occupy. Anyone who has ever tried to clean under one in a busy canteen, or rearranged furniture at a festival venue, or watched an airport food court struggle to seat an unpredictable surge of travelers knows exactly how inflexible the standard table can be. Yang noticed this, and instead of making a prettier version of what already existed, he went back to the architecture of the object itself.

The system works through an extruded profile structure, where the table’s add-ons, things like tabletop surfaces and functional accessories, simply hang onto a core frame. Assembly is quick, disassembly is just as fast, and the whole setup is customizable depending on what a space actually needs at any given moment. That “hanging” action is not just a clever name. It is the entire design logic, and it holds up beautifully.

What makes Hang On genuinely exciting is not the novelty of modularity, because modular furniture has been a design buzzword for years. It is the specificity of the problem Yang chose to solve. This was never meant to be a living room conversation piece or a collector’s item. It was designed for the messy, high-traffic realities of restaurants, markets, airports, canteens, outdoor festivals, and shopping centers. Spaces that demand flexibility, easy cleaning, and fast reconfiguration. Public furniture has historically been treated as an afterthought, chosen for durability over intelligence. Hang On treats it as a design challenge worth solving properly.

The collaboration with +Halle makes sense here. The Danish brand has a reputation for thoughtful, durable furniture built for communal environments, and that sensibility aligns well with Yang’s approach. The extruded profile construction also means the piece is cost-efficient to produce and more sustainable than a comparably functional table that relies on complex manufacturing. The design was longlisted for Dezeen Awards 2025 in the furniture category, which tells you that the broader design industry has taken notice.

What speaks most loudly about Hang On is the restraint of it. Designers are often tempted to make their mark through addition, by piling on features or leaning into visual drama. Yang did the opposite. He removed, simplified, and reduced until what was left was just the logic of the thing. The name is both a literal description and, depending on how you read it, a small instruction to pay attention.

Public space design rarely gets the careful, considered treatment reserved for residential or high-end commercial interiors. We tolerate wobbly café tables and undersized airport counters because we have always tolerated them. Hang On is a quiet argument that we do not have to. That the furniture serving crowds of strangers every day might actually deserve the same level of thoughtful design as anything you would put in your own home. And that sometimes, reimagining something as fundamental as a table starts simply by asking why it was built that way in the first place.

The post The Modular Table That Actually Works for Public Spaces first appeared on Yanko Design.

Rareraw Built a Shelf That Runs on Electricity (On Purpose)

The modular shelving category is one of those rare corners of furniture design where almost nothing has changed in decades. You pick your posts, pick your shelves, snap them together, and that’s largely where the conversation ends. String’s wall-mounted system has been doing that since 1949. Vitsœ’s 606 has been doing it since 1960. USM Haller got a little more architectural about it in the sixties. The formula is familiar, and for a long time, familiar was fine. Then Rareraw showed up.

The Seoul-based industrial design studio just launched System000 in Dezeen Showroom, and the pitch is deceptively simple: a modular steel shelving system where the posts themselves are live infrastructure. Power runs through the uprights, enabling remote-controlled lighting to be built directly into the hardware that holds your books up. No separate lamp. No hunting for the nearest outlet. Just the structure itself doing double duty.

Designer: Rareraw

The mechanics of it come down to a self-developed, patented connector that Rareraw designed from scratch. This is the detail that matters most when you put it next to the classic names. String’s joinery is elegant and wall-dependent. USM Haller’s chrome ball connectors are satisfying to look at and genuinely clever, but the system’s logic is essentially fixed once you’ve committed to a layout. Rareraw’s approach is different in a specific way: it calls itself an “open system,” which means you can reconfigure the same components into a bookshelf, a sideboard, a room divider, or a full display wall without the whole thing becoming a logic puzzle. The connector isn’t just structural. It’s what makes the flexibility possible, and it’s the mechanism through which the lighting circuit travels.

Whether or not that patent claim holds up in every detail, the integration feels genuinely well-considered for the moment we’re in. The hybrid living room is no longer just a pandemic residue. People are working, reading, displaying, and hosting in the same eight hundred square feet, and the lighting layer is doing a lot of heavy lifting in making those transitions feel intentional. Ambient lighting in particular has become less of a lifestyle flourish and more of a basic expectation. Putting that control inside the furniture structure rather than layering lamps and cords around it afterward is a logical move that’s surprisingly rare in this category.

It also makes System000 feel less like a storage product and more like architecture you assemble. A tall configuration as a room divider, with the posts lit from within, reads as structural columns before it reads as furniture. That shift in register is genuinely interesting, and it’s not something the Vitsœ or the String can do regardless of how you accessorize them.

Rareraw is a South Korean studio with a presence at Maison&Objet, and System000 fits the profile of Korean industrial design that’s been gaining serious ground internationally. Precise, restrained, technically specific. The name itself, with its three zeros, suggests a starting point rather than a finished product, which either means there’s a roadmap of follow-on configurations and accessories, or it’s just very good naming instinct. Either way, it sticks.

The questions still left open are the practical ones that any serious buyer needs answered. Pricing isn’t listed on the Dezeen Showroom page, which tells you this is a conversation-required purchase rather than an add-to-cart one. Post heights, load ratings, and the specifics of how the lighting is powered are also details that Rareraw hasn’t published prominently yet. Those are not small considerations when you’re asking someone to build a room around a shelving system.

Still, System000 is asking a better question than most of this category has bothered to ask in a long time. The modular shelf has essentially been coasting on the logic of its midcentury inventors, and Rareraw is looking at the same brief and asking what happens when the post becomes a conduit, not just a post. The answer is something worth watching.

The post Rareraw Built a Shelf That Runs on Electricity (On Purpose) first appeared on Yanko Design.

A Student Built Shelves That Fly Like Kites

The first image that stops you is the outdoor shot: a tall shelving unit suspended in open sky, hovering above a treeline, trailing a thin string back to the ground like the most unexpected kite you’ve ever seen. The frame catches the light. The fabric panels billow slightly. It looks completely ridiculous and completely beautiful at the same time. That’s Aerodomestics, a furniture collection by Valerio Sampognaro, a student at HFBK Hamburg, and a finalist in the 2026 Rimowa Design Prize. The concept is straightforward and quietly radical: what if furniture was built the way kites are built?

Look at the pieces closely and the logic becomes visible. The frame is thin aluminum tubing, bent into clean rectangular forms and rounded at the corners, the kind of minimal structural skeleton that prioritizes weight savings above everything else. It’s not trying to disappear, but it’s not trying to dominate either. The tubing holds its shape without bulk, which is exactly what a good kite spine does.

Designer: Valerio Sampognaro

The shelves themselves are where it gets interesting. Rather than wood, glass, or metal panels, Sampognaro used ripstop fabric in bold, flat colors: sky blue, vivid orange, deep charcoal. The fabric is tensioned diagonally between shelf levels, crossing in a zigzag pattern that mirrors how kite sail panels are cut and stitched to distribute load across the frame. Up close, you can see the actual stitching along the fabric edges, neat and deliberate, the same hand of craft you’d find in a proper kite workshop. The shelves are functional. There’s a photograph of a hardcover book sitting cleanly on one of the orange panels, held in place by tension and the slight curve of the material.

The result, visually, is furniture that looks like it’s already in motion. The diagonal fabric panels create a sense of dynamic energy even when the piece is standing still in a white studio. The tall orange-and-black unit has an almost aggressive graphic quality, the two colors alternating in a chevron rhythm up the full height of the structure. The blue units are softer, more architectural, especially the tall single piece with its A-frame top that tapers to a point like a sail catching wind upward. Indoors, against a neutral wall, these pieces read as sculpture. Outside, with actual wind in the fabric, they become something else entirely.

Portability is part of the design in a way that feels genuinely considered rather than incidental. One photograph shows a person carrying a full-sized unit flat under one arm, the whole thing folded down to roughly the size of a stretched canvas. The aluminum frame collapses, the fabric folds with it, and the entire piece becomes something you could reasonably carry on public transit. That’s not a small thing. Most shelving requires two people, a car, and a level of commitment to a specific wall in a specific apartment. Aerodomestics asks for none of that.

Sampognaro has said that the project is about having a lighter relationship with objects, about not being so dependent on them. You can feel that philosophy in every material decision. Nothing is heavier than it needs to be. The color choices are bold enough to make a statement without requiring permanence. The fabric can presumably be replaced or recolored. The frame is the kind of thing that could last indefinitely or be disassembled in ten minutes.

What makes Aerodomestics stick with you isn’t just the image of a bookshelf in flight, as memorable as that is. It’s the realization that the whole collection follows through on its own premise completely. Every joint, every fabric panel, every color choice points back to the same idea: that a shelf can hold your things without weighing you down. That’s a harder design problem than it looks, and Sampognaro solved it by looking somewhere no one thought to look.

The post A Student Built Shelves That Fly Like Kites first appeared on Yanko Design.

This Retro Arcade Machine Folds Into A Furniture Cabinet Right Out Of Pottery Barn

You bring home a new piece of furniture. It’s a handsome, mid-century modern style cabinet in a rich walnut finish, and your partner is frankly stunned. They thought your design sensibilities peaked at a framed movie poster, yet here is this sophisticated, adult-looking object that actually complements the living room. They nod, impressed. The next evening, they go to open one of the doors, planning to store some coasters or maybe a few new wine glasses. Except the handle is just for show, and the doors don’t open. The look of confusion on their face is priceless, because they’re about to learn your secret.

That’s because this beautiful cabinet is a beautifully crafted lie. The front panel doesn’t swing open; it unlocks and folds down to reveal a two-player control deck. The entire top half then pivots upward, extending into a full-height marquee that glows with the promise of 8-bit glory. In seconds, the quiet, respectable piece of furniture has undergone a transformation worthy of a Saturday morning cartoon, revealing itself to be the Swap Arcade. It’s the ultimate stealth entertainment system, hiding in plain sight and waiting for your friends to come over.

Designers: Les Cookson & Ken Higginson

The brainchild of Les Cookson and Ken Higginson out of Lincoln, California, the Swap Arcade tackles a very real problem for gaming enthusiasts who happen to live in actual homes with actual partners who have actual opinions about décor. Closed, it sits at a compact 36 inches tall with a footprint slim enough to tuck against any wall. Open, it rises to a full 70 inches with a 27-inch HDMI display, built-in speakers, and a two-player control panel loaded with SANWA joysticks.

The transformation is handled by a counterbalanced mechanism that manages the weight as the hideaway arcade moves up and down, keeping the movement smooth and controlled rather than the kind of chaotic reveal that ends with someone’s fingers in the wrong place. Once fully open, front corner locking pins secure the arcade immediately after transformation, with a second redundant set at the rear corners for added stability, keeping everything firmly locked in place before anyone even thinks about touching a joystick.

Running on a Raspberry Pi 4 with Batocera preinstalled and a starter library of 100 games, the machine is ready to play straight out of the box, a self-contained gaming system from day one. From there, thousands of additional retro titles can be loaded, giving access to a huge library of arcade, console, and retro favorites through one clean multicade interface. The controls run through a Brook Zero-Pi Fighting Board encoder, adding compatibility with Nintendo Switch, Switch 2, PS3, PS2, the original PlayStation, and PC via X-Input. Hook up a Nintendo Switch Online subscription and suddenly you have access to classic Nintendo libraries on a proper stand-up cabinet. Connect a PC and play arcade-style games through Steam. The machine evolves with what you already own.

Cookson clearly had no intention of letting the furniture half of the equation slide. The cabinet shell is actual wood, and the unfinished bare wood option means it can be stained or painted to suit any interior. Three finished options are also available, Natural, Walnut, or Dark Tobacco, each looking convincingly like something sourced from a design-forward furniture store. For anyone wanting something completely custom, a graphic designer and printer can create custom vinyl decals using almost any artwork, making the Swap Arcade truly personal. The nostalgia you’re chasing here is entirely your own to define.

The lower section includes built-in storage for game systems, controllers, cables, and accessories, accessible when the Swap Arcade is opened into arcade mode… or maybe some of those wine glasses your partner wanted to originally store. It’s a detail that keeps the illusion perfectly intact. When closed, nothing gives the game away.

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This Concept Organizes the First 30 Seconds of Coming Home in the Rain

Home entryway products have a coverage problem. A shoe rack deals with footwear, but not the umbrella. An umbrella stand handles the wet item but does nothing for the dripping floor around it. A small tray catches keys but not the daily chaos that accompanies them. The pieces exist, but they don’t form a coherent system, and the result tends to be a doorway that feels permanently unsettled.

ENTRY is a concept that answers that scatter with one vertical object. It integrates umbrella guidance, water collection, elevated footwear storage, and a top catch-all surface into a single threshold form, described by its designer as something that organizes the first 30 seconds of coming home. Rather than treating the entrance as a storage corner, it reframes that space as a managed wet-dry transition between outside conditions and domestic calm.

Designer: Zhenhua Chen

The design gives the wet umbrella a precise position rather than a vague area to lean against. A vertical spine with controlled side geometry holds the umbrella in a defined relationship to the base, reducing the casual lean that scatters water across walls and floors. It’s structural thinking that locates the wet object deliberately, so that whatever drips off it goes where the design expects it to go.

Below the umbrella position, a concealed, removable tray collects water at the base. Rather than allowing drips to pool on the floor or soak into a mat, the design makes water collection part of the object’s own structure. The tray pulls out when it needs emptying, keeping the maintenance cycle as minimal as the design premise itself. Water arrives with the umbrella, gets directed downward, gets caught, and gets removed.

Footwear gets lifted off the floor onto dedicated raised platforms rather than accumulating at the base of the door in the usual loose arrangement. The difference between floor-level disorder and a designated surface is partly visual but also functional: the floor around the entrance stays clear, and the entryway retains the quality of a space someone has thought about rather than one that simply absorbed what was dropped into it.

The top surface is a flat catch-all tray for keys, cards, and anything else that comes in at the end of the day. Placing that surface on the same object as the umbrella and shoes means the coming-home ritual resolves at a single point. You don’t split between the entryway table, the kitchen counter, and the shoe mat; everything lands together, and the entrance stays coherent rather than scattered.

The design doesn’t try to decorate the problem. It reframes the entryway as a piece of domestic infrastructure, a small managed object whose job is to absorb the friction of arriving rather than add to it. ENTRY currently exists as a concept prototype that confirms scale, spatial arrangement, and visual language. Drainage performance and load testing are identified as the next steps before the design moves further forward.

The post This Concept Organizes the First 30 Seconds of Coming Home in the Rain first appeared on Yanko Design.

A Folding Chair Designed to Stay Out, Not Hide Away

I have a complicated relationship with folding chairs. Not a hostile one, just complicated. They are one of those objects that exist in a permanent state of apology: useful when you need them, embarrassing when you don’t, and almost always the first thing you hide before company arrives. The folding chair has never quite managed to transcend its reputation as a placeholder for “real” furniture, and for decades, most designers haven’t really bothered trying. That’s what made the Kael Walnut Folding Chair by Esspur stop me mid-scroll.

It doesn’t announce itself as a folding chair. If you saw it sitting in someone’s dining room, you’d probably assume it was a permanent fixture, a considered purchase, a statement piece. The seat and curved backrest are solid walnut, warm in tone and shaped to suggest permanence rather than portability. The frame is polished stainless steel, slim and structured without feeling cold or industrial. Taken together, the chair reads more like something you’d find in a well-edited boutique hotel lobby than something you’d unfold for a dinner party and tuck back behind a door before your guests could notice. The proportions are right. The materials are at least photographically convincing. And the overall silhouette holds a kind of quiet confidence that most folding chairs never come close to.

Designer: Esspur

The design carries echoes of mid-century classics, and those references don’t feel like a stretch. There’s a rotational elegance to how the chair collapses that feels deliberate, almost theatrical, as if the whole point of the folding mechanism is to be watched. That’s not a common quality in budget-adjacent furniture. Most folding chairs fold in the most graceless way possible, a series of clicks and reversals that feel like you’re solving a problem rather than using a product. The Kael seems to understand that the fold is part of the design, not an afterthought.

Esspur is a brand with virtually no history and no disclosed location, and their online presence raises more questions than it answers. The product description calls the seat and backrest solid wood in one place, then references veneer craftsmanship in the fine print. I think that’s worth sitting with for a moment. We live in an era of very convincing product photography, and the gap between how something looks on a screen and how it feels in your hands has never been wider. The walnut might be veneer rather than solid. The steel might feel lighter than it looks. These are legitimate concerns, and if you’re the kind of person who expects heirloom-grade furniture, this probably isn’t it. Shopping from an unknown brand with no verifiable track record is always a calculated risk.

But here’s the thing I keep turning over: the idea itself is nearly flawless. Whatever the material quality ends up being, someone thought carefully about the problem of the folding chair and came up with a solution that doesn’t feel like a compromise. The design respects the object. It doesn’t try to disguise the fact that it folds; the mechanism is visible, structural, part of the aesthetic. But it also doesn’t apologize for it. That’s a harder line to walk than it looks.

For anyone living in a city apartment, a studio, or a home where space is a constant negotiation, the Kael makes a quiet argument: good design shouldn’t require a permanent footprint. The best extra chair is one you’d want to leave out even when you don’t need it. Most folding chairs fail that test spectacularly. This one, at least in concept, passes with something to spare.

Whether Esspur refines the build quality over time or quietly disappears from the internet, the design itself has already done something useful. It’s asked the right question: what if the folding chair wasn’t the awkward option, but the intentional one? It’s a question the furniture industry hasn’t had much urgency to answer. Maybe now it does.

The post A Folding Chair Designed to Stay Out, Not Hide Away first appeared on Yanko Design.

Muuto’s Minimalist Chair Hides A Tiny Heart In Its Details

There are few symbols more familiar than the heart. It appears everywhere, from children’s drawings to luxury branding, which is perhaps why designers rarely touch it. The shape carries so much cultural baggage that it can quickly slip into sentimentality.

For its twentieth anniversary, Danish furniture brand Muuto decided to take that risk! Created with Copenhagen studio Spacon, the *Close to Heart* chair debuts during 3 Days of Design as part of Muuto’s anniversary programme, *Next Chapters in Scandinavian Design*. Limited to 150 pieces and produced in Denmark from extruded aluminium, the chair transforms the heart from a graphic symbol into a structural system. Every profile used to construct the chair is shaped like a heart.

Designer: Muuto and Spacon

The project began with a clear direction from Muuto, which was to avoid nostalgia. Rather than celebrating the past, the anniversary was framed as an opportunity to explore where Scandinavian design might go next. For Spacon partners Nikoline Dyrup Carlsen, Malene Hvidt, and Svend Jacob Pedersen, that conversation led unexpectedly to the heart.

What attracted the designers was not its symbolism alone, but its geometry. A heart combines two very different formal qualities within a single shape. One side is defined by a sharp triangular point, while the other is made up of generous curves. It is a shape that feels simple at first glance, yet becomes surprisingly intricate when examined closely.

That balance between softness and precision carries through the entire chair. From a distance, the heart references are obvious. Up close, they begin to disappear into the construction, becoming part of the chair’s proportions, joints, and structure rather than decorative details.

Material selection played an equally important role. Extruded aluminium is typically associated with engineering and manufacturing efficiency, making it an unusual choice for an object built around one of culture’s most emotionally loaded symbols. Yet the designers found that the material’s characteristics aligned naturally with the concept. Its light weight and ability to accommodate smooth curves allowed the heart profile to be repeated throughout the chair without becoming visually heavy.

The anodized finish further softens the material’s appearance. Instead of presenting aluminium as hard or industrial, the treatment gives the surface a subtle depth that reacts to changing light throughout the day. Reflections become muted, colors from the surrounding environment are absorbed into the surface, and the material takes on a quieter presence.

The chair sits within a broader collaboration between Muuto and Spacon centred on the relationship between technical systems and emotional experience. Muuto’s history is rooted in innovation and manufacturing development, while Spacon’s work frequently crosses between architecture, interiors, art, and craft. Close to Heart brings those interests together in a single object.

That intersection feels particularly relevant to how Scandinavian design is evolving today. The defining values remain familiar: experimentation, material honesty, and careful craftsmanship. What is changing is the willingness to embrace stronger narratives, cultural references, and emotional expression without treating them as separate from function.

The heart, surprisingly, proved to be a useful vehicle for that discussion. What could easily have become a novelty instead became a study in proportion, material, and manufacturing. The symbolism is impossible to ignore, yet the chair succeeds because it never relies on symbolism alone.

For Muuto and Spacon, the anniversary project is less about celebrating twenty years of design history than testing where design can go next. If Close to Heart is any indication, that future may involve a little more emotion, a little more playfulness, and a willingness to find sophistication in places designers have often overlooked.

The post Muuto’s Minimalist Chair Hides A Tiny Heart In Its Details first appeared on Yanko Design.

Muuto’s Minimalist Chair Hides A Tiny Heart In Its Details

There are few symbols more familiar than the heart. It appears everywhere, from children’s drawings to luxury branding, which is perhaps why designers rarely touch it. The shape carries so much cultural baggage that it can quickly slip into sentimentality.

For its twentieth anniversary, Danish furniture brand Muuto decided to take that risk! Created with Copenhagen studio Spacon, the *Close to Heart* chair debuts during 3 Days of Design as part of Muuto’s anniversary programme, *Next Chapters in Scandinavian Design*. Limited to 150 pieces and produced in Denmark from extruded aluminium, the chair transforms the heart from a graphic symbol into a structural system. Every profile used to construct the chair is shaped like a heart.

Designer: Muuto and Spacon

The project began with a clear direction from Muuto, which was to avoid nostalgia. Rather than celebrating the past, the anniversary was framed as an opportunity to explore where Scandinavian design might go next. For Spacon partners Nikoline Dyrup Carlsen, Malene Hvidt, and Svend Jacob Pedersen, that conversation led unexpectedly to the heart.

What attracted the designers was not its symbolism alone, but its geometry. A heart combines two very different formal qualities within a single shape. One side is defined by a sharp triangular point, while the other is made up of generous curves. It is a shape that feels simple at first glance, yet becomes surprisingly intricate when examined closely.

That balance between softness and precision carries through the entire chair. From a distance, the heart references are obvious. Up close, they begin to disappear into the construction, becoming part of the chair’s proportions, joints, and structure rather than decorative details.

Material selection played an equally important role. Extruded aluminium is typically associated with engineering and manufacturing efficiency, making it an unusual choice for an object built around one of culture’s most emotionally loaded symbols. Yet the designers found that the material’s characteristics aligned naturally with the concept. Its light weight and ability to accommodate smooth curves allowed the heart profile to be repeated throughout the chair without becoming visually heavy.

The anodized finish further softens the material’s appearance. Instead of presenting aluminium as hard or industrial, the treatment gives the surface a subtle depth that reacts to changing light throughout the day. Reflections become muted, colors from the surrounding environment are absorbed into the surface, and the material takes on a quieter presence.

The chair sits within a broader collaboration between Muuto and Spacon centred on the relationship between technical systems and emotional experience. Muuto’s history is rooted in innovation and manufacturing development, while Spacon’s work frequently crosses between architecture, interiors, art, and craft. Close to Heart brings those interests together in a single object.

That intersection feels particularly relevant to how Scandinavian design is evolving today. The defining values remain familiar: experimentation, material honesty, and careful craftsmanship. What is changing is the willingness to embrace stronger narratives, cultural references, and emotional expression without treating them as separate from function.

The heart, surprisingly, proved to be a useful vehicle for that discussion. What could easily have become a novelty instead became a study in proportion, material, and manufacturing. The symbolism is impossible to ignore, yet the chair succeeds because it never relies on symbolism alone.

For Muuto and Spacon, the anniversary project is less about celebrating twenty years of design history than testing where design can go next. If Close to Heart is any indication, that future may involve a little more emotion, a little more playfulness, and a willingness to find sophistication in places designers have often overlooked.

The post Muuto’s Minimalist Chair Hides A Tiny Heart In Its Details first appeared on Yanko Design.

Muuto’s Minimalist Chair Hides A Tiny Heart In Its Details

There are few symbols more familiar than the heart. It appears everywhere, from children’s drawings to luxury branding, which is perhaps why designers rarely touch it. The shape carries so much cultural baggage that it can quickly slip into sentimentality.

For its twentieth anniversary, Danish furniture brand Muuto decided to take that risk! Created with Copenhagen studio Spacon, the *Close to Heart* chair debuts during 3 Days of Design as part of Muuto’s anniversary programme, *Next Chapters in Scandinavian Design*. Limited to 150 pieces and produced in Denmark from extruded aluminium, the chair transforms the heart from a graphic symbol into a structural system. Every profile used to construct the chair is shaped like a heart.

Designer: Muuto and Spacon

The project began with a clear direction from Muuto, which was to avoid nostalgia. Rather than celebrating the past, the anniversary was framed as an opportunity to explore where Scandinavian design might go next. For Spacon partners Nikoline Dyrup Carlsen, Malene Hvidt, and Svend Jacob Pedersen, that conversation led unexpectedly to the heart.

What attracted the designers was not its symbolism alone, but its geometry. A heart combines two very different formal qualities within a single shape. One side is defined by a sharp triangular point, while the other is made up of generous curves. It is a shape that feels simple at first glance, yet becomes surprisingly intricate when examined closely.

That balance between softness and precision carries through the entire chair. From a distance, the heart references are obvious. Up close, they begin to disappear into the construction, becoming part of the chair’s proportions, joints, and structure rather than decorative details.

Material selection played an equally important role. Extruded aluminium is typically associated with engineering and manufacturing efficiency, making it an unusual choice for an object built around one of culture’s most emotionally loaded symbols. Yet the designers found that the material’s characteristics aligned naturally with the concept. Its light weight and ability to accommodate smooth curves allowed the heart profile to be repeated throughout the chair without becoming visually heavy.

The anodized finish further softens the material’s appearance. Instead of presenting aluminium as hard or industrial, the treatment gives the surface a subtle depth that reacts to changing light throughout the day. Reflections become muted, colors from the surrounding environment are absorbed into the surface, and the material takes on a quieter presence.

The chair sits within a broader collaboration between Muuto and Spacon centred on the relationship between technical systems and emotional experience. Muuto’s history is rooted in innovation and manufacturing development, while Spacon’s work frequently crosses between architecture, interiors, art, and craft. Close to Heart brings those interests together in a single object.

That intersection feels particularly relevant to how Scandinavian design is evolving today. The defining values remain familiar: experimentation, material honesty, and careful craftsmanship. What is changing is the willingness to embrace stronger narratives, cultural references, and emotional expression without treating them as separate from function.

The heart, surprisingly, proved to be a useful vehicle for that discussion. What could easily have become a novelty instead became a study in proportion, material, and manufacturing. The symbolism is impossible to ignore, yet the chair succeeds because it never relies on symbolism alone.

For Muuto and Spacon, the anniversary project is less about celebrating twenty years of design history than testing where design can go next. If Close to Heart is any indication, that future may involve a little more emotion, a little more playfulness, and a willingness to find sophistication in places designers have often overlooked.

The post Muuto’s Minimalist Chair Hides A Tiny Heart In Its Details first appeared on Yanko Design.

Muuto’s Minimalist Chair Hides A Tiny Heart In Its Details

There are few symbols more familiar than the heart. It appears everywhere, from children’s drawings to luxury branding, which is perhaps why designers rarely touch it. The shape carries so much cultural baggage that it can quickly slip into sentimentality.

For its twentieth anniversary, Danish furniture brand Muuto decided to take that risk! Created with Copenhagen studio Spacon, the *Close to Heart* chair debuts during 3 Days of Design as part of Muuto’s anniversary programme, *Next Chapters in Scandinavian Design*. Limited to 150 pieces and produced in Denmark from extruded aluminium, the chair transforms the heart from a graphic symbol into a structural system. Every profile used to construct the chair is shaped like a heart.

Designer: Muuto and Spacon

The project began with a clear direction from Muuto, which was to avoid nostalgia. Rather than celebrating the past, the anniversary was framed as an opportunity to explore where Scandinavian design might go next. For Spacon partners Nikoline Dyrup Carlsen, Malene Hvidt, and Svend Jacob Pedersen, that conversation led unexpectedly to the heart.

What attracted the designers was not its symbolism alone, but its geometry. A heart combines two very different formal qualities within a single shape. One side is defined by a sharp triangular point, while the other is made up of generous curves. It is a shape that feels simple at first glance, yet becomes surprisingly intricate when examined closely.

That balance between softness and precision carries through the entire chair. From a distance, the heart references are obvious. Up close, they begin to disappear into the construction, becoming part of the chair’s proportions, joints, and structure rather than decorative details.

Material selection played an equally important role. Extruded aluminium is typically associated with engineering and manufacturing efficiency, making it an unusual choice for an object built around one of culture’s most emotionally loaded symbols. Yet the designers found that the material’s characteristics aligned naturally with the concept. Its light weight and ability to accommodate smooth curves allowed the heart profile to be repeated throughout the chair without becoming visually heavy.

The anodized finish further softens the material’s appearance. Instead of presenting aluminium as hard or industrial, the treatment gives the surface a subtle depth that reacts to changing light throughout the day. Reflections become muted, colors from the surrounding environment are absorbed into the surface, and the material takes on a quieter presence.

The chair sits within a broader collaboration between Muuto and Spacon centred on the relationship between technical systems and emotional experience. Muuto’s history is rooted in innovation and manufacturing development, while Spacon’s work frequently crosses between architecture, interiors, art, and craft. Close to Heart brings those interests together in a single object.

That intersection feels particularly relevant to how Scandinavian design is evolving today. The defining values remain familiar: experimentation, material honesty, and careful craftsmanship. What is changing is the willingness to embrace stronger narratives, cultural references, and emotional expression without treating them as separate from function.

The heart, surprisingly, proved to be a useful vehicle for that discussion. What could easily have become a novelty instead became a study in proportion, material, and manufacturing. The symbolism is impossible to ignore, yet the chair succeeds because it never relies on symbolism alone.

For Muuto and Spacon, the anniversary project is less about celebrating twenty years of design history than testing where design can go next. If Close to Heart is any indication, that future may involve a little more emotion, a little more playfulness, and a willingness to find sophistication in places designers have often overlooked.

The post Muuto’s Minimalist Chair Hides A Tiny Heart In Its Details first appeared on Yanko Design.