Choosing a coffee table usually means choosing a finish you’ll be living with for years. LUMVIA leaves that decision open a little longer, with interchangeable mosaic tiles that let you change the tabletop’s pattern instead of replacing the furniture. Developed by Romania’s mkt, the coffee table prototype puts that freedom inside a solid oak frame, with hidden storage underneath for the less decorative things.
The top has a hexagonal outline, with a broad wooden border surrounding 24 triangular tiles. Those repeated shapes give every arrangement a common structure, even when the colors change completely. You could group similar shades together or scatter contrasting pieces across the surface, turning the same geometry into a quiet backdrop or something that competes with the coffee cups for your attention.
There’s more to the customization than picking a favorite color, of course. Ceramic and glass provide different material options, while the lines between the tiles can be black or white. Dark separators make the individual triangles more pronounced against pale pieces; lighter ones soften that contrast. Even before rearranging anything, changing those lines alters how strongly the mosaic announces itself in a room.
That flexibility becomes particularly appealing when the rest of the room changes. A new rug might make yesterday’s tabletop feel a little too busy, while a neutral sofa could leave space for a bolder composition. LUMVIA’s removable tiles are intended to accommodate those shifts, letting owners revise the pattern over time rather than treating the original selection as a permanent decorating commitment.
The geometry continues underneath, where triangular drawers offer somewhere to tuck away the small objects that tend to collect around a sofa. Their shape follows the mosaic above, rather than introducing a rectangular box below it. There’s a practical tradeoff here, though: an angular compartment won’t suit everything, even if it gives keys or other small belongings a place away from the tabletop.
Both the drawers and the grid supporting the tiles are 3D-printed, placing digital manufacturing beneath the more familiar wood, ceramic, and glass. The approach gives the repeated triangular forms a role in construction as well as decoration. A separate wood version uses interlocking wooden tiles, offering another way to build a pattern without introducing ceramic or glass into the surface.
Still, a surface that invites rearranging also needs to work when you’re setting down a hot drink. Some tiles have recessed triangular details, while others are plain, making the choice about texture as well as color. How those pieces sit together, stay in place, and handle everyday spills will matter just as much as the pleasure of choosing which triangle goes where next.
LUMVIA remains a customizable prototype rather than a mass-produced table, and its configurator includes a step for selecting extra tiles. Having spare pieces could let you test different combinations without replacing the whole set every time your tastes change. You’ll still need somewhere to keep all the triangles that aren’t on display, though. Even a coffee table makeover can leave you with leftovers.
Large dining tables are useful right up until you need to move one, when their reassuring weight becomes somebody else’s lifting problem. LAYER’s Ripple research table explores a lighter construction by giving thin plywood a corrugated profile instead of relying on a thick slab. That said, the project keeps a flat surface for everyday use while putting the waves underneath, mostly hidden from view.
The original table was specified at approximately 8.2 feet long and 39.4 inches wide, weighing about 19.8 pounds. That’s a generous dining surface for something intended to be moved by one person. Bringing it across a room for guests or shifting it away from the wall could become less of a coordinated household event. Its footprint, however, doesn’t shrink along with its weight.
The material comes from a collaboration with Canadian manufacturer Corelam, using pressure lamination to form the repeating curves. LAYER specifies plywood approximately 0.12 inches thick, although that isn’t the overall depth of the assembled tabletop. The distinction matters here: the design gets its structure from a shaped sheet and layered construction, rather than pretending a thin, flat board can do everything alone.
Of course, a wavy dining surface would be a fairly annoying place to balance your coffee. Ripple covers its corrugated structure with a flat plywood sheet, leaving the waves visible below and along the edge. Plates and laptops get the ordinary surface they need, while the underside carries the more unusual geometry. The useful part doesn’t have to look particularly experimental from above.
The legs follow the same preference for shape over bulk. A refined version uses hollow triangular profiles, designed to increase rigidity in two directions. The tabletop’s underside also curves gently across its length and width. Those changes address a fairly obvious concern with lightweight furniture: being easy to pick up is only useful if the table still supports what you put on it.
The red finish keeps Ripple from disappearing into the background, even with such a thin outline. From the side, the top appears almost like a sheet balanced on four narrow supports. Along the short edges, the repeating curves reveal why that impression is misleading. The structure supplies its own ornament, without adding a carved border or a heavier decorative frame.
Using less wood is part of the environmental argument, too. The project’s original documentation claims 70% to 80% less material than a standard timber table, but doesn’t establish a defined comparison for that figure. Less material isn’t automatically a complete environmental assessment, either. Adhesives, finishing, production, and working life still matter, even when the basic idea of doing more with less is appealing.
LAYER presents Ripple as a studio research project, without a current retail price or ordering details. The construction offers an answer for people whose furniture has to move with them, though size remains a constraint. You might no longer need help with the lifting, but you’d still need a clear route through the house before taking that tabletop around a corner.
Ants aren’t usually welcome around a coffee table, especially when there are snacks involved. The Colheita Coffee Table concept, however, borrows something more useful from them: the curved cuts left by leafcutter ants. Its steel surface folds downward to become its own legs, while movable wooden supports provide places for drinks. The nature reference gives the table its construction logic, rather than simply decorating it.
The body starts with a single steel sheet, cut by laser and bent so three broad sections reach the floor. Those sections remain attached, leaving openings where a conventional tabletop would be solid. Rather than adding separate legs underneath, Colheita carries the tabletop material through to its base. The relationship is easy to follow, even if the resulting silhouette is rather unusual.
That approach is intended to reduce component count and material waste, although it isn’t a claim of waste-free manufacturing. A smaller detail helps explain how the sheet takes shape: enlarged, rounded ends on the cuts provide relief during bending. They’re there to ease stress where flat metal becomes a leg. The graceful curves have a fabrication purpose alongside their resemblance to a harvested leaf.
The wooden pieces might look like little bowls at first, but their flat tops serve as platforms rather than containers. Each hemisphere has a groove that slots onto the folded steel, allowing it to move along the edge. The wood adds a warmer color and visible grain to the dark metal, while giving a glass or small object its own resting place.
That means the arrangement doesn’t have to stay the same after you’ve chosen where the table goes. Move a wooden support closer to your seat, or spread them around when friends gather on different sides. The system is also intended to help stabilize the upper surface. These small additions therefore have a job beyond making the steel look a little less austere.
Of course, all those openings leave less uninterrupted space for whatever usually accumulates on a coffee table. A book or tray needs a solid patch beneath it, and a loose remote won’t forgive careless placement. The gaps do leave room for trailing plants and allow light through. Colheita invites you to arrange its contents more deliberately, which won’t appeal to everyone’s housekeeping habits.
The project also explores an unfinished carbon steel version, letting oxidation change the surface’s colors and patterns over time. That’s a different proposition from furniture meant to keep an immaculate, uniform finish. It gives the table a changing appearance rather than a permanent shade of gray. The project presentation doesn’t explain how to manage that aging around spilled drinks or routine household cleaning.
Colheita means “harvest” in Portuguese, a nod to the ants and to gathering around the table. It remains a concept project with fabrication work documented, rather than a verified retail offering. Dimensions and load capacity aren’t provided. Before trusting one of those platforms with hot coffee, you’d want to know how securely it stays put when someone nudges the table.
Coffee tables are places where people as well as things meet, and they can get messy really fast. Books, remote controls, accessories, knick-knacks, you name it, you can find it on top of these large surfaces. Klara doesn’t magically make your coffee table neater but instead embraces the chaos and gives that mess a place to hide, with a movable tray that covers part of the tabletop without turning it into some gigantic storage box.
Some coffee tables do have storage spaces beneath the tabletop, but that invites the other problem of not knowing where things are. Klara keeps all those items on top, ready when you do need them. Slide the raised tray over a part of the recessed surface, and you temporarily hide the unsightly mess. They’re still there, just out of sight and out of mind.
Of course, the sliding tray itself becomes yet another surface you put something on, like a drink or maybe a piece of decor. The open area it leaves uncovered provides easy access to those you do need to reach. Move the tray over, and it’s gone. It’s almost like sweeping things under the rug.
Klara’s shape gives it both functionality and presence. Long, squared-off legs make it look like a small bench, and the ends of the frame angle outward to break away from the identity of a plain rectangle. The surfaces are colored precisely within those shapes, making it feel like a truly assembled piece of furniture rather than a box that simply has legs.
Color combinations include a warm yellow recess with the sliding tray in a matching earthy brown, all on top of a pale wood-grain frame. Another option goes a bit darker, with deeper wood tones and blue-gray surfaces. Both color options deliver the same effect: the tray visually stands apart, hinting at its movable nature, and when the table’s all clean, it offers a bit of contrast to keep things interesting.
That said, the “holding area” is finite, and you’ll definitely be limited in what you can place there. As for the moving tray, it’s best to actually remove what’s on top before sliding it over to another area, lest you want to deal with spilled drinks or shattered vases. Small things, but effective reminders that the table isn’t a solution to that mess.
The point isn’t to forget you have to tidy up. It’s to save you the stress of doing so when someone stops by unannounced. It gives you a little peace of mind, albeit briefly, but it also doesn’t encourage leaving things cluttered for long. After all, it doesn’t have a permanent place to hide things, so you’ll have to face the music sooner or later.
Most furniture with a sustainability story asks you to make a trade. You sacrifice the aesthetics for the ethics, and you call it a choice well made. The RE-UP Side Table by Thai design studio TAKEHOMEDESIGN is quietly rewriting that agreement. It is not asking you to settle. It is asking you to look at a food delivery container and actually see something beautiful. That is a harder ask than it sounds.
TAKEHOMEDESIGN, founded by designer Paphop Wongpanich and based in Bangkok, has been producing furniture that blends Thai craftsmanship with a globally informed design sensibility for over a decade. The RE-UP collection is the studio’s most pointed statement yet. The bases of these side tables are made entirely from moulded plastic waste, sourced from two material streams: polycarbonate from industrial sources, and post-consumer polypropylene pulled from food packaging and delivery containers. Thailand generates more than 2 million tons of plastic waste annually, and a significant portion of that comes from exactly the kind of single-use containers most of us forget about the moment we toss them out. TAKEHOMEDESIGN is pulling them back.
Designer: TAKEHOMEDESIGN
What makes the RE-UP particularly interesting from a design perspective is how unapologetically honest it is about its materials. The polycarbonate bases carry a frosted glass-like finish that reads as sleek and almost architectural. The polypropylene versions, on the other hand, reveal a visibly shredded texture beneath the surface, and when some of the designs are lit from within with soft internal illumination, that texture catches the light in a way that feels more like art than furniture. It is the kind of detail you would notice and then have to explain to a guest, which I think is exactly the point. Good design should give you something to say.
The tabletops bring a contrasting layer of naturalness. Options include rubberwood shaped using traditional Thai woodworking techniques, recycled UHT milk cartons (yes, really), clear tempered glass, and marble. The rubberwood itself is a byproduct of Thailand’s rubber industry, which means the sustainability thinking extends beyond just the base. For those who want a warmer tone overall, coffee grounds are used to tint the base in a mocha finish, which is either a very clever material choice or a very good piece of storytelling, possibly both.
I genuinely appreciate when design does not try to hide where it came from. There is a category of sustainable product that scrubs its origin story clean, presenting itself as simply tasteful and letting the eco credentials live quietly in a footnote. RE-UP is the opposite of that. The process is the product. The texture of the shredded plastic, the slight translucency of the base, the warm unevenness that tells you this did not come from a conventional mold. These are not flaws being forgiven. They are the design.
The collection won the BIG SEE Product Design Award 2026 in the Furniture for Living Spaces category, a European design recognition that signals this work is resonating well beyond its home market. TAKEHOMEDESIGN has also shown at the HD Expo in Las Vegas, which suggests the studio is thinking seriously about hospitality and commercial interiors alongside the residential buyer. It is the kind of traction that tends to follow studios that say something real with their work.
The RE-UP also extends into pendant lights and coffee tables, so it is not a singular statement piece floating in isolation. It is a liveable system, and that matters. A design philosophy only scales when you can actually build a room around it. For something born from a takeout container, it holds up remarkably well.
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.
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.
Furniture manufacturing has a quiet waste problem that rarely makes it into the marketing copy. Most pieces require significantly more raw material than what ends up in the finished product, with offcuts, excess, and scraps treated as an acceptable cost of doing business. Some studios have started designing around this inefficiency, treating material constraints not as a limitation but as a creative starting point.
Germany-based Momentum Studio took exactly that approach with its 06 Side Table. Rather than designing a form and then figuring out how to cut it from aluminum, the studio worked the problem in reverse, focusing on how to extract a meaningful shape from a flat sheet with as little waste as possible. The result is a table that looks like it came from a sketch, not a spreadsheet.
The laser-cut parts were nested with enough precision to use 96% of the raw aluminum area, leaving just 4% as offcuts. That figure wasn’t incidental; it was a major focus during development. By designing the two flat panels to fit together as efficiently as possible, the studio kept material costs low enough to offer the piece at €265 while keeping the entire production strictly made in Germany.
What emerged from that constraint is a silhouette that could easily pass for something from the Bauhaus era. The outer body is formed from two rectangular panels with softly rounded corners, each carrying a large circular cutout that creates an opening through the structure. A circular shelf sits midway inside, and a round tabletop closes the form at the top. The geometry is simple but hard to reduce further.
The material is Aluminium AlMg3, hand-brushed and waxed for what Momentum Studio calls a raw finish. That deliberate restraint means the aluminum will develop a natural patina over time, something the studio frames not as a defect but as part of the piece’s evolving character. The screws are stainless steel, and the assembled table weighs 6.75kg at 47cm x 47cm x 47.5cm.
The table ships flat-packed and goes together without any tools in about five minutes. That’s a practical bonus for a piece that doesn’t look like it should be easy to put together. The lower circular shelf is sized well enough for a book, a small object, or whatever habitually ends up beside a reading chair or bed. The tabletop above handles whatever you’d normally want within arm’s reach.
The design commitment extends to its broader material philosophy, which the studio describes as selecting materials for their permanence rather than their convenience, aiming to create objects designed to age with dignity and outlast generations. It’s the kind of table that stays in a room for a long time, which seems to be exactly the point. For a piece built from raw, waxed aluminum, that ambition doesn’t seem far-fetched.
The coffee table is the hardest surface in the living room to get right. Put too much on it, and it looks like a staging mistake. Put too little and the room reads unfinished. The minimalist approach settles this by demanding each object justify its place twice — once as something useful, once as something worth looking at. Every product on this list earns on its own terms.
These five objects were chosen because they share a logic rather than a matching aesthetic. A kinetic toy, a modular ceramic, a structural tray, a floating mobile, a handpoured candle vessel — different categories, different price points, one consistent standard. Each one does more than its category suggests, and none of them requires anything around it to look complete. That is the whole point of a surface that does more by doing less.
1. ClearMind Kendama
The ClearMind Kendama is the object on this list that will raise the most eyebrows and earn the most genuine conversation. Crafted in Tokyo from solid, unpainted walnut and maple, it’s a Japanese skill toy that sits on a minimalist coffee table the way a chess set sits on a side table — quietly suggesting a way of spending time that isn’t a screen. The two-tone wood grain reads as sculpture when it’s at rest, and the proportions are tight enough that it occupies almost no footprint while contributing significant material presence and warmth to the surrounding surface.
What makes the Kendama work as a coffee table object rather than just a novelty is the quality of its materials and the honesty of its finish. Walnut and maple at this weight don’t look like toys — they look like considered objects, which is exactly what they are. The practice itself is deliberately simple: the ball catches on the cup, the spike, the base plate. Each successful catch requires a small act of focus that pulls you out of passive consumption and toward something genuinely present. On a minimalist table, it functions as an invitation — to pick up, play, put down — and every time it rests, it returns to being a beautiful wooden form that needs no explanation.
The unpainted natural wood reads as a sculpture at rest
The meditative play pattern offers something no other object on this list provides
What we dislike:
The cup-and-ball proportions are an acquired taste for anyone who associates kendamas with children’s toys
The string can feel visually busy if left extended rather than gathered
2. Torre Modular Ceramic Vase
The Torre Modular Ceramic Vase by Scott Newlin for Dudd Haus is the most expensive object on this list by a significant margin, and the one that earns that price most transparently. Each piece is hand-thrown at Powerhouse Arts in Brooklyn and arrives as a set of stackable ceramic modules — two, three, or four components depending on the configuration — that interlock through consistent diameters and lipped rims. The forms are architectural, muted, and deliberately quiet: off-white, sand, stone. On a coffee table, they read as a composed sculpture from any angle, at any height.
What sets the Torre apart from a standard ceramic vase is that it offers a choice every time you approach the table. Stack the modules high for a vertical moment, separate them into a low cluster, or pull one aside entirely and set a dried stem inside the remaining piece. The act of rearranging them is part of the object’s value — it rewards attention in a way that static objects never can. For a minimalist surface, the price demands justification, and it finds it here: the Torre is three objects in one, each configuration as resolved as the last, none of them requiring anything around them to look finished. It is the closest thing on this table to pure design.
What we like:
Each reconfiguration creates a genuinely different visual read
The hand-thrown ceramic carries natural variation that improves with close attention
What we dislike:
At $1,200, it is a significant commitment for a surface object
The off-white and sand palette, while intentional, can disappear on lighter table materials
3. Sail Away Tranquility Mobile
The Sail Away Tranquility Mobile is the only object on this list that moves, and movement is precisely why it belongs here. Three balanced triangular forms — drawn from the geometry of sailboats — hang in calibrated tension and respond to the slightest air current in the room. On a coffee table, it introduces a kinetic quality that no static object can replicate: the table becomes the most animated surface in the living room without adding any visual weight. The proportions are compact enough for a tabletop, the construction is clean, and the physics are genuinely surprising the first time you see it shift in still air.
What makes the Sail Away work as a minimalist object is its restraint. The movement is subtle rather than theatrical — a slow drift rather than a spin — and it never demands attention so much as rewards it, which is the correct register for a surface meant to feel considered rather than performed. At $145, it occupies a different design category from every other object on this list: not sculpture exactly, not functional exactly, but somewhere between the two that feels honest rather than decorative. Set at the far edge of the Platform Tray, it creates a vertical moment that anchors the whole composition without competing with anything around it.
The kinetic movement brings a living quality to the table that no static object can match
The geometric forms hold their visual logic from any angle
What we dislike:
The mobile requires a stable surface — consistent vibrations from foot traffic or sound can overanimate it
The string suspension looks considered but feels delicate in a high-use living room
4. Simple Candle Co. Concrete Vessel
The Simple Candle Co. Concrete Vessel is the most affordable object on this list and the one that punches furthest above its price. Each vessel is hand-poured in small batches from a grey concrete body with a short soy wax wick and no label. The scent runs deliberately clean — white linen, cashmere cedar, or unscented — and the vessel itself is the product as much as the candle inside it. At $20, it brings concrete’s material seriousness to the table at a price that makes it easy to keep two: one lit, one resting, both earning their place on the surface.
The concrete body doesn’t get hot to the touch during burning, which is a practical advantage that most candle vessels at three times the price can’t claim. Burn time runs approximately 25 to 30 hours, and when the wax is finished, the bowl stays. Rinse it out, and it becomes a catch-all for a matchbox, a small stone, a ring. That second life is built into the object from the first glance — the vessel was always the point, and the candle is what justifies buying it for $20 rather than considerably more. Alongside the Kendama’s natural wood and the Torre’s matte ceramic, the concrete introduces a third material that completes the tactile range without competing for visual dominance.
What we like:
The vessel earns its place before and after the candle burns
The concrete stays cool during use, which is a genuine functional advantage over glass and ceramic alternatives
What we dislike:
The scent throw is intentionally subtle and reads as ambient rather than strongly aromatic
The hand-pour process means each vessel varies slightly, so a replacement may not match an existing piece exactly
5. Muuto Platform Tray — Grey
The Muuto Platform Tray is the object that makes every other object on this list look better. Available at Finnish Design Shop for $109 in grey, it’s a round tray with an oak veneer surface and small metal legs that lift it just enough off the table to create a clear visual boundary between the objects inside and the surface beneath. That boundary does more compositional work than it should — it turns a group of objects into a considered arrangement rather than a collection of things that happen to be sitting on the same surface. The grey metal and warm oak read well together, and the form is simple enough to disappear.
In practical terms, the Platform Tray is the anchor. The candle vessel sits inside it. The Kendama rests at its edge. The mobile grounds one end. The tray doesn’t organize these objects so much as it frames them, and the difference between a frame and a container is the difference between editorial and domestic. The oak veneer surface develops warmth over time, and the small legs mean it can be lifted off the table intact when the surface needs to be cleared without disturbing the composition it holds. At $109, it is the least visually dramatic piece on this list and almost certainly the most indispensable one.
What we like:
The oak veneer surface brings warmth to a mixed material setup
The raised legs separate the composition from the table surface with minimal visual noise
What we dislike:
The round form can feel restrictive on a narrow or strongly rectangular table
It comes in one size, so there’s no option to scale up for a larger surface
The Only Five Objects Your Coffee Table Needs
Five objects, five categories, one shared logic. The tray frames. The candle grounds. The mobile moves. The Kendama invites you to participate. The Torre rewrites what a vase can be. Together they fill a coffee table without crowding it, and none of them needs the others to look resolved. That is the discipline a minimalist surface asks for, and these five meet it.
The full build comes to $1,444, with the Torre carrying most of that weight. Buy the other four first — at $344 combined, they build one of the strongest minimalist coffee table setups available at that price — and treat the Torre as the object you earn over time. Start with the Platform Tray. Everything else finds its place from there.
Say the name out loud. NjommNjomm. Go ahead. It sounds exactly like what you think it sounds like. Nom nom. Like something chewing. Like something very happily eating. And once you see what this coffee table concept actually does, you’ll understand that the name is entirely intentional and absolutely perfect.
Stuttgart-based designer Deniz Aktay, who goes by dezinobjects online, studied architecture and urban planning at the University of Stuttgart before turning his focus to furniture and object design. He has built a quiet but devoted following with pieces that feel more like riddles than furniture. His previous work includes tables named “Bookpet” and “Nessie,” and an award-winning piece called “Overlap.” The man clearly has a sense of humor, and with NjommNjomm, he’s leaning all the way into it.
The concept is deceptively simple. NjommNjomm is a cuboid coffee table made from sustainable plastics. It has a clean, minimal silhouette, and nothing about it screams “look at me” from across the room. But tucked inside is a bevelled storage compartment, and when you slide a book of just the right size into it, something kind of surreal happens. The book appears to disappear into the table. The table appears to have swallowed it. Nom nom, indeed.
It’s the kind of visual trick that makes you do a double-take, and then immediately want to show everyone who walks into your living room. That impulse is actually one of the more underrated qualities a piece of furniture can have. Most objects just sit there. NjommNjomm performs.
The optical illusion comes from the bevelled cut of the internal compartment, which creates a striking contrast against the clean outer form. The book doesn’t just sit inside the table. It looks consumed, tucked away by the table itself. There’s a small theatrical quality to it that elevates it well beyond a storage solution and into something closer to a stage prop, except it lives in your living room and holds your coffee.
I’ll admit, my very practical brain did pause for a moment to wonder about the mechanics of it all. How exactly do you get the book in? Do you slide it through the opening? Is there a specific angle? And when you want to actually read it, does retrieving it break the illusion entirely? I genuinely don’t know, and I find myself hoping the answer is something elegantly simple, because the last thing this design needs is a frustrating extraction process every time you want to pick up where you left off.
Beyond the trick, the design is genuinely practical in other ways. The cuboid shape means it can be positioned horizontally as a traditional coffee table or flipped vertically to change its function entirely, making it more adaptable than most single-use furniture. For smaller spaces especially, that kind of flexibility matters. Being made from sustainable plastics also puts it in line with where furniture design is heading broadly, with more and more designers prioritizing materials that don’t cost the planet what they cost the consumer.
Aktay’s body of work says a lot about what he values as a designer. His pieces consistently sit at the intersection of wit and function, which is a harder balance to achieve than it looks. It’s easy to make something clever. It’s harder to make something clever that also works as real furniture in a real home. NjommNjomm feels like it manages both.
What makes the concept particularly compelling right now is the timing. The conversation around coffee tables in 2026 has largely been about sculptural forms and pieces that feel more like objects of art than pieces of furniture. NjommNjomm fits into that moment without trying too hard to belong to it. It’s minimal, almost to the point of invisibility, and then it does its little trick, and you realize it was never trying to be quiet at all.
For those of us who stack books on every available surface, there’s something poetic about a table that embraces the book as part of its identity rather than treating it as clutter. NjommNjomm doesn’t just hide the book. It celebrates it by making it look like the table chose to eat it.
It’s currently a concept, and Aktay shares his work on Instagram where designs like this tend to get picked up quickly by communities who recognize a good idea when they see one. Whether it eventually moves into production or stays in concept territory, it’s already done what great design is supposed to do. It made me stop scrolling. It made me think. And it made me want one.
Side tables have a bit of an identity problem in furniture design. Most treat them as purely functional afterthoughts, giving you a flat surface at the right height and not much else. The ones that do try to stand out tend to overcorrect, piling on decorative legs, unusual proportions, or materials that compete with everything else in the room. Very few ask whether the structure itself could be the point.
That’s the question Stuttgart-based designer Deniz Aktay explores with the Whisk table, a side table built around a single continuous tube that does all the heavy lifting. Aktay’s work consistently gravitates toward pure lines and the expressive potential of a single well-chosen material. The Whisk is one of his cleaner expressions of that thinking.
The tube bends into two rounded loops stacked at different heights, forming an S-curve when viewed from the side. One loop reaches the height of a standard side table and cradles the tabletop. The other sweeps back to the floor, forming the base. The whole thing reads as one fluid gesture rather than a frame assembled from parts, which is very much the point.
Where it gets interesting structurally is at the center, where the tube crosses itself. That crossing point isn’t decorative; it’s what keeps the table stable. The two loops work against each other in a way that resists rocking or shifting, so you get a table that looks almost impossibly light while still holding its ground next to a sofa or armchair without wobbling every time you set something down.
The tabletop is designed to stay in the background. It fits within the upper loop and matches its rounded profile, so the two read as a single shape rather than two components joined together. The surface adds just enough contrast to define the functional plane without competing for attention. The tube does the work; the top is simply where you put your coffee, your book, or a small lamp.
As a side table, the Whisk works in less space than you’d expect. Its footprint is compact enough for tight spots beside a lounge chair or at the end of a bed, and the open structure doesn’t crowd the room the way solid-legged tables often do. It comes in a polished silver finish and a warm red option, giving it a bit more personality for spaces that can take it.
The Whisk explores what a single material or fabrication method can do without adding more than it needs to. It’s a single tube, bent twice, crossed once. It’s the kind of idea that sounds almost too simple to work, until you’re actually using it and realize that nothing about it needed to be more complicated.
