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Our inspiration for the furniture folder came from an unexpected, almost trivial everyday object: the laundry folder.

This simple plastic tool, often found in infomercials or organizing enthusiast’s homes, is designed for one very specific task to fold a T-shirt into a perfectly rectangular shape in just a few swift movements. It’s a device that operates somewhere between precision and absurdity. After all, do we really need a tool to fold clothes? Probably not. But there’s something undeniably satisfying about the choreography of its hinged panels and the consistent outcome it produces: fabric transformed into form, quickly and effortlessly.

This choreography, this quiet mechanical dance of folding, became the starting point for our own tool.

We took this idea, a folding frame that allows you to bring soft material into structured shape and applied it to an entirely different context: aluminum sheets, used to create furniture objects such as stools, trays, or sculptural containers. Just like with the laundry folder, the user places a sheet of material onto the surface of our folding tool. A few precise movements follow: hinges are closed, edges are brought up, angles are locked in. What begins as a flat plane is transformed into a spatial object.

What intrigued us most was not just the function of the original folder, but its logic: A frame that acts as a guide. A set of predefined movements. A tool that enables shape through repetition and gesture.

Our “furniture folder” translates this logic into a new material language. Instead of cotton, we fold metal. Instead of tidying up, we build.

The tool itself becomes a silent partner in the act of making rigid, yet flexible enough to adapt. It's a modular hinge-based frame that allows for different folding geometries and compositions. The result is not a mass- produced piece of furniture, but a crafted object—shaped by hand, guided by structure, and held together by the memory of a fold.