Everbloom turns organic waste such as discarded down, wool, and cashmere into usable garment fibers braided by AI. The startup describes the textile as softer than merino, more indulgent than cashmere, and stronger than silk. The production process starts with throwaways that already exist and collects these protein-based materials from textile waste and agriculture. Instead of binning them, the team treats them as raw input, sorted by type and cleaned by the in-house developed AI system named Braid. It is designed to separate protein waste based on its source, condition, and composition, and it collects data from these inputs to study how they react during processing.

The model analyzes how proteins behave under changes in temperature, moisture, and molecular weight, and from this data, it predicts the properties of the final fiber before production starts, including how it will respond to tension, dye, and wear. Based on these predictions, Braid AI suggests adjustments, and they’re translated into settings for the melt-spinning machines. The model also allows different waste streams to be combined into one system, so instead of treating each input as a problem, it treats them as variables to scale production. This link between software and hardware reduces trial-and-error testing. What once took months in a lab can now be done in weeks, and this AI model shortens development time and lowers the cost of producing usable garment fibers.

all images courtesy of Everbloom

Making the usable garment fibers for the fashion industry

Now back to the material: after cleaning the discarded organic waste, the proteins are extracted, but they’re not ready to be transformed yet into AI-churned usable garment fibers. They must be changed at a molecular level. Using protein engineering and molecular biology, Everbloom adjusts the structure of the proteins to control how the material behaves later in production. The processed protein is then turned into pellets, which are easy to store, move, and measure. They also allow the material to fit into existing manufacturing systems as well as help stabilize quality and make the process repeatable. The pellets are designed to work with standard melt-spinning machines, the ones already used across the textile industry to produce synthetic fibers. 

In this case, the startup’s pellets can replace polyester in this system. When heated and stretched, the pellets form long filaments, and this allows manufacturers to adopt the AI-churned usable garment fibers without rebuilding their factories. Once the filaments are created, the next step is yarn production, taking place in Italy. The yarn is produced according to clear targets, including stretch, resistance, and hand feel, and each parameter is defined before production begins. The yarn can then be knitted or woven into fabric, and at this stage, the material is ready for use in garments. Most fibers used today are made from fossil fuels and don’t break down after use. At the same time, large amounts of protein waste are discarded each year. Everbloom positions its system as a way to connect these two issues by replacing synthetic input and reviving discarded waste into regenerated biological material at scale.

Everbloom turns organic waste into usable garment fibers braided by AI

the startup describes the textile as softer than merino, more indulgent than cashmere, and stronger than silk

the yarn is produced according to clear targets, including stretch, resistance, and hand feel

the yarn can then be knitted or woven into fabric

detailed view of the woven fabric

view of the resulting material

project info:

startup: Everbloom 

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A new analysis by MIT researchers reveals that Pompeii’s brick structures still stand because the ancient Romans used self-healing concrete that lasts for thousands of years. In 2023, MIT Associate Professor Admir Masic and his team published a paper explaining how Roman concrete was made, describing a method called hot-mixing. In this process, lime fragments are mixed dry with volcanic ash and other materials, and water is added only at the end. When water touches the dry mix, it creates heat, which traps the lime inside the concrete as small white pieces. These pieces can later dissolve and fill cracks, giving the concrete the ability to repair itself.

In the recent discovery, the team found out that the ancient Roman architect Vitruvius wrote a book about architecture, where he said Romans added water to the lime first to make a paste, then mixed it with other materials. This was different from what the MIT professor found in the lab, and because Vitruvius is so important in history, Admir Masic felt unsure about contradicting him. The researchers then found an ancient construction site in Pompeii that was well preserved by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in the year 79 C.E. and gathered raw material piles, tools, and walls in different stages of construction, giving them a chance to study Roman self-healing concrete exactly as it was made, the same one applied to the then architecture, including in Pompeii.

image by Fran Zaina, via Pexels

Romans used quicklime with ash for the binding material

Professor Admir Masic and his university collaborators collected samples from dry material piles, unfinished walls, finished walls, and repair sections during their visit at Pompeii in pursuit of restudying the site’s self-healing concrete. They found lime clasts in the concrete, just like in the earlier study, but they also came across unreacted quicklime fragments inside the dry material pile, showing that the Romans mixed the lime dry and proving that hot-mixing was used. To study the materials, the team used stable isotope tools to track how materials change over time. With this, they could see the difference between lime that was hot-mixed and lime that had been slaked with water first. 

The results showed that the Romans used quicklime, ground it, mixed it dry with volcanic ash, and then added water later to make the binding material. The researchers also studied the volcanic ash with pumice, which reacted gradually with water inside the concrete. This reaction created new minerals that helped strengthen the structure over time, and these minerals filled pores and added more stability. This research doesn’t aim to copy the Roman concrete exactly because modern building needs different materials and standards, but the goal is to take small lessons from the past, which can help create modern self-healing concretes that last for years, just like in Pompeii. So far, Professor Admir Masic has started a company named DMAT to apply and realize the recent discovery.

image by Nick Night, via Unsplash

image by Cole Ciarlello, via Unsplash

image by Fran Zaina, via Pexels

an ancient Pompeii wall studied by the researchers | image courtesy of Archaeological Park of Pompeii, via MIT

project info:

name: An unfinished Pompeian construction site reveals ancient Roman building technology

institutions: MIT, DMAT | @mit

researchers: Admir Masic, Ellie Vaserman, James C. Weaver, Claire Hayhow, Kristin Bergmann, Celestino Grifa, Roberto Scalesse, Valeria Amoretti, Antonino Russo, Gennaro Iovino, Gabriel Zuchtriegel

study: here

The post turns out pompeii used self-healing concrete that lasts for thousands of years, research finds appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Studio Aditya Mandlik (SAM)’s Factory 5.0 is a timber structure that positions biological intelligence as a genuine collaborator, co-authored by 10,000 king worms metabolizing Styrofoam in real time. ‘When we design built environments, we’re reshaping the planet’s outermost skin, one that has always supported complex, multi-species life,’ the architect tells designboom. ‘My instinct is to design in dialogue with that broader ecological knowledge system.’

Founder of the studio, Aditya Mandlik, frames the work as a call to rethink architectural authorship in the context of the Fifth Industrial Revolution, a moment defined by the convergence of human and non-human intelligence. ‘Making is no longer a linear, directive process; it becomes a co-evolution shaped by multiple intelligences operating simultaneously across material, biological, and spatial scales,’ the architect notes.

At the core of the project is plastic, the defining material of the First Industrial Era, reframed through decomposition ‘Plastic became a lens to understand how drastically our intentions and consequences can diverge,’ Mandlik tells us. ‘Working with worms revealed that nature already holds pathways for metabolising what we consider irreversible problems.’ Speaking to designboom, Mandlik positions Factory 5.0 as a framework for rethinking material futures, using decomposition to expand architectural imagination.

all images courtesy of Studio Aditya Mandlik

how worms reshape the geometry of the structure in real time

Factory 5.0 is a composite system of 546 digitally fabricated timber components interlaced with 200 Styrofoam plates housed in transparent acrylic chambers. These interiors become operational terrains where worms, approached as collaborators of the project, actively reshape the geometry of the pavilion. ‘Their behavior resembled that of micro-sensors, always recalibrating in response to temperature, light, and moisture,’ Mandlik explains. ‘These feedback loops began to dictate the pavilion’s evolving porosity.’ This procedure results in a continually transforming architectural section, revealed in various ways as visitors move around and through it.

Unexpected behavioral patterns soon become part of the design language. Worms clustered for warmth below 20°C, migrate toward darkness, and even metamorphose when isolated, behaviors that influence spatial rhythm and material decay rates. ‘Designing with decomposition demanded accepting that anything we create should ultimately be able to return to natural systems,’ the Mumbai-based architect tells designboom. This approach shapes decisions from assembly logic to the portability of the pavilion. Factory 5.0 was already in its second life at DDW, having been flat-packed, transported, and reconfigured from its Mumbai debut.

This adaptability extends into its afterlife. ‘Disassembly is not the end of a project, but the beginning of its next metabolic phase,’ Mandlik notes. After the exhibition, timber components are repurposed, while worm-transformed Styrofoam plates, sensitive to light, sound, and human presence, are preserved as memory objects and later used as molds for casting metal lights. The project becomes a living model for regenerative architecture in a world where biological and technological intelligence co-author space. Dive into the full Q&A below.

a timber structure that positions biological intelligence as a genuine collaborator

Interview with Aditya Mandlik

designboom (DB): Factory 5.0 introduces worms as active co-creators. What first prompted you to explore biological intelligence as a design partner?

Aditya Mandlik (AM): For me, collaborating with non-human intelligence has always felt like a natural extension of architectural thinking. When we design built environments, we’re effectively reshaping the planet’s outermost skin, a layer that has long supported complex, multi-species life. So my instinct is to design in dialogue with that broader ecological knowledge system. With Factory 5.0, this became particularly critical. Since the installation was conceived as a prototype for architecture in the Fifth Industrial Revolution, we chose to work with natural decomposers to break down single-use plastic, the defining material of the First Industrial Era. That act of decomposition became both method and message, positioning architecture as a metabolic, co-authored process rather than a purely human-driven one.

co-authored by 10,000 king worms

DB: As you mentioned, the project sits within the theme of the Fifth Industrial Revolution. How do you define ‘non-human intelligence’ in an architectural workflow, and what does it contribute to the act of making?

AM: Architecture becomes truly contextual, geographically, socially, culturally, and ecologically, only when every actor present on a site is allowed to perform. I’ve always believed that the planet operates through a dense web of behaviors, where each entity, human or non-human, contributes its own role to a constantly unfolding system. These behaviors are not passive; they are forms of intelligence that shape, negotiate, and adapt the environments we share. So when I speak of ‘non-human intelligence’ in architecture, I’m not thinking of it as an add-on to the design workflow. Instead, I see it as an existing field of entangled, cooperative interactions that we must learn to work with rather than override. In that sense, making is no longer a linear, directive process; it becomes a coevolutionary act, shaped by multiple intelligences operating simultaneously across material, biological, and spatial scales.

the worms metabolize Styrofoam in real time

DB: Why did you choose plastic as the primary site of decomposition, and what did the worms reveal to you about its future?

AM: Plastic is, in many ways, the great material triumph of the First Industrial Revolution. It reshaped human behaviour, accelerated production, and became inseparable from modern life. What interested me was this contradiction: a material originally engineered with ecological intent has, within a single generation, shifted into the category of ‘waste.’ Plastic became a lens through which to examine how drastically our intentions and their consequences can diverge over time. Working with worms made this contradiction even more compelling. Their ability, together with the bacteria in their microbiome, allows to break down complex molecular structures like single-use plastics, revealed something deeply optimistic. It suggested that nature already holds pathways for metabolising what we perceive as irreversible problems. This collaboration points toward a future where small-scale worm farms could become decentralized systems for decomposing not only single-use plastic but other organic waste as well. It reframes the issue from one of disposal to one of co-evolution, where natural intelligence and human design actively negotiate the lifecycle of materials.

rethinking architectural authorship in the context of the Fifth Industrial Revolution

DB: How did you approach designing a structure whose form and meaning emerge through processes of decomposition?

AM: The pavilion was conceived as an active dialogue between space and matter, its form articulated as a vector, a directional force urging us to rethink the foundations of how we build. If we are to imagine alternative futures, we must first intervene in the material realities we currently inhabit. In this sense, the afterlife of single-use plastic became a crucial point of departure, not merely as a problem to be managed, but as an ecological agent capable of reframing architectural imagination. Designing with decomposition demanded an acceptance that anything we create should ultimately be capable of returning to natural systems. This principle shaped every aspect of the project—from embracing material deterioration to defining the pavilion’s assembly logic. Factory 5.0 was therefore conceived as a fully disassemblable structure, enabling its components to be repurposed or reintegrated long after it’s exhibition in Mumbai. The pavilion itself was already in its second life at Dutch Design Week 2025, having been transported, reconfigured, and re-adapted specifically for the climate and conditions of Eindhoven. In this way, the pavilion’s form, meaning, and visitor experience were never intended to be fixed. Instead, they were designed to evolve through cycles of breakdown, transformation, and return, mirroring the metabolic processes that animated the project from within. Factory 5.0 ultimately positions decomposition not as an endpoint, but as a generative force shaping both architectural expression and ecological imagination.

at the core of the project is plastic

DB: What were some of the most unexpected behaviors or feedback loops you observed during the worms’ metabolic process?

AM: One of the most unexpected insights came from observing how socially and environmentally responsive the worms were. Across experiments with multiple species, we studied how they reacted to variations in temperature, light, moisture, and even sound. Their behavior resembled that of micro-sensors, constantly adjusting and recalibrating in response to subtle environmental shifts. When temperatures dropped below 20°C, the worms instinctively clustered together to exchange body heat. In contrast, a worm left alone for two to three days often initiated metamorphosis, cocooning and transforming into a darkling beetle within a week. Their strong preference for darkness was equally revealing; exposure to light compelled them to migrate toward shaded areas, often resulting in higher aperture densities in those regions of the styrofoam panels. These feedback loops became foundational to understanding how the pavilion would behave, transform, and ultimately decompose over time. They also directly informed our preparations for installing the pavilion in the city centre. To help the worms acclimate to the Eindhoven’s weather, each acrylic container was equipped with insulation film, containers holding moisture-absorbing gels, and external UV-A/UV-B thermal lamps. Adjusting these parameters allowed us not only to support their metabolic processes but also to intentionally mediate aperture densities in specific zones of the panels, shaping the pavilion’s evolving porosity as an active design tool.

plastic is reframed through decomposition

DB: Factory 5.0 can be flat-packed, reconfigured, and repurposed, extending its material life after exhibitions. How does this design-for-disassembly strategy align with your vision of metabolic architecture?

AM: Design for Disassembly, for me, emerges directly from the intelligence embedded within the informal urban fabric of Mumbai, a landscape that is continually dismantled, reconfigured, and reinhabited across generations. It is not only an ecologically sensitive strategy but also a culturally attuned one, acknowledging the fluid, intergenerational patterns of occupation shared by both human and non-human actors. Within the broader framework of metabolic architecture, Design for Disassembly becomes a means of embracing uncertainty. It enables structures to adapt, mutate, and respond to conditions that neither designers nor other participants can fully anticipate. In this sense, Factory 5.0’s ability to be flat-packed, reassembled, or repurposed is therefore not just a logistical choice. It extends the material life of the pavilion while situating it within a continuous cycle of transformation, reuse, and reintegration. In that sense, disassembly is not the end of a project, but the beginning of its next metabolic phase.

Factory 5.0 is a composite system of 546 digitally fabricated timber components

DB: Looking ahead, what potential do you see for architects to collaborate with other biological systems, and how might this shift the profession toward a truly post-anthropocentric future?

AM: I believe architecture has remained deeply human-centric for most of its history, shaped first by our evolutionary instincts and later by the pressures of rapid urbanization. In constructing the modern city, we have often produced hyper-sanitized environments that separate us from the ecological systems we are inherently part of. What we tend to overlook is that humans themselves are complex biological beings; recognizing ourselves as nature is the first step toward reframing how we design. Looking ahead, I see enormous potential for architecture to collaborate not only with biological systems but with the dense fabric of behaviors, patterns, and intelligence already present on every site. These living interfaces, microbial, botanical, geological, atmospheric etc., continuously negotiate and transform the environments we inhabit. Engaging with them allows architecture to shift from being an imposed, static form to becoming an entangled and co-evolving process. Also, for this shift to meaningfully unfold, architects cannot operate in isolation. Policymakers, engineers, industries, and communities must also acknowledge these biological systems as co-residents and co-authors of the built environment. Only then can we move toward a truly post-anthropocentric future, one in which architecture is created not just for humans, but with and alongside the intelligence of the broader living world.

the structure incorporates 200 Styrofoam plates housed in transparent acrylic chambers

worms actively reshape the geometry of the pavilion

a continually transforming architectural section

unexpected behavioral patterns soon become part of the design language

worms clustered for warmth below 20°C migrate toward darkness

Aditya Mandlik observing the worm behavior

project info:

name: Factory 5.0

architect: Studio Aditya Mandlik (SAM) | @studioadityamandlik

biological agents: 10,000 king worms

The post aditya mandlik on turning decomposition into design in a pavilion built with 10,000 worms appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Burls Art creates an electric guitar from air and recycled cardboard that still plays and works as a musical instrument. The craftsman’s idea comes from a cardboard guitar made in a collaboration between Fender and Signal ten years ago. That guitar used corrugated cardboard as the main material, and the designer thought of upgrading the first version using the same materials but in a different way. He wanted to design a working electric guitar that is very light in weight, around three or four pounds, and since recycled corrugated cardboard is mostly air, it can weigh much less than a normal wooden instrument. While the cardboard is strong for its weight, the challenge is to make the guitar strong enough to hold string tension. For the current model, Burls Art uses laminated sheets of recycled cardboard without casting the body in resin. 

Instead, each layer of cardboard is soaked in resin before stacking to make the paper material stable and strong enough while keeping the hollow flutes inside each sheet. After lamination, the cardboard gives him a thick blank that’s easy to cut and shape with woodworking tools. He finishes the process by removing the excess resin and then planing the surface with a router sled. The body of Burls Art’s musical instrument made of recycled cardboard follows the shape of a standard electric guitar. The designer switches from used shipping boxes to new cardboard sheets to avoid dents or folds that could change the final shape, and the laminated body also shows the corrugated openings to create a surface where some parts of the guitar can be seen through from certain angles.

all images courtesy of Burls Art

Resin removes air pockets in the paper-made instrument

The neck of the electric guitar made of recycled cardboard needs more strength than the body because it holds the strings tight. The craftsman then investigates two ways to orient the cardboard sheets: cutting through the long side of the flutes or cutting along the short side. In the video he uploaded on Youtube, Burls Art also tests an alternated pattern because a cardboard chair shown at the London Design Museum uses this method. 

A simple force test shows that alternating the pattern increases strength, so for the final neck, the designer fully saturates the cardboard in resin to remove most air pockets and create a solid structure that can resist string pressure. Inside the neck, a truss rod is added, and a thin strip of maple wood covers the truss rod slot to allow adjustment of the neck if the strings pull too hard. The fretboard is cut into shape, and each is measured and sawed with a jig. After that, the neck is carved to remove weight and make the guitar more balanced. 

Burls Art uses laminated sheets of recycled cardboard without casting the body in resin

lightweight guitar made of ‘air’

The electric guitar made of recycled cardboard also uses two single-coil pickups and a bridge plate installed on the back of the body. Because screws cannot hold well in cardboard alone, an inset support block made from a resin-soaked offcut is added. The electronics cover uses magnets and metal screw heads hidden inside the flutes.

The final finishing steps include sanding, cleaning the cardboard flutes, and applying a clear coat that protects the material from moisture and makes the surface smoother.  After assembly, Burls Art plays his electric guitar made of recycled cardboard, and it seems to work well. He says that it weighs light, and the body structure gives a visual effect where the viewer can see through the guitar from the right angle. The video also documents the making of the musical instrument for viewers who’d like to build their own in their workshops.

each layer of cardboard is soaked in resin before stacking

a bridge plate is installed on the back of the body

the designer switches from used shipping boxes to new cardboard sheets to avoid dents

the body structure gives a visual effect where the viewer can see through the guitar from the right angle

detailed view of the instrument

project info:

name: I Built This Guitar Out of Cardboard

design: Burls Art | @burlsart

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At the Lisbon Triennale 2025, Besley & Spresser present a material provocation disguised as an architectural installation that begins with a disarming question from Peter Besley. ‘What if one of the building industry’s most hazardous materials could become one of its most promising?’ Together with co-founder Jessica Spresser, the studio reframes asbestos as a mineral whose future might diverge radically from its past. Their project, REDUX, built within the Palácio Sinel de Cordes, showcases carbon-negative materials derived from asbestos waste, developed with Rotterdam-based material scientists Asbeter and ceramicist Benedetta Pompilli.

The transformation is a working demonstration of a certified EU process that recrystallizes asbestos into stable silicates, safe, tactile, even visually compelling. ‘The goal is to replace the idea of asbestos as taboo with one of possibility and to see that even materials with deeply troubled histories can be remade into something constructive, safe, and unexpectedly beautiful.’ the architects tell designboom.

images by Rui Cardoso, unless stated otherwise

turning a toxic legacy into carbon-negative material

Asbestos is an ancient mineral, woven into the urban fabric through decades of industrial enthusiasm and catastrophic neglect. Though naturally occurring and not toxic in itself, its mining, processing, and installation embedded a lethal hazard into cities worldwide that continues to kill hundreds of thousands of people annually and leaves millions of tons of contaminated waste in landfills.

Besley & Spresser’s installation operates inside this uncomfortable legacy. The architects point to the paradox of industrial material culture: convenience versus damage. ‘Asbestos embodies the contradictions of a lot of industrial material culture: convenience vs damage. By transforming it, we’re trying to contribute to the rethinking of the material culture of city-making,’ Besley notes.

Besley & Spresser present a material provocation disguised as an architectural installation

from hazardous fibres to carbon-negative architecture

The scientific process that underpins REDUX is both uncompromising and surprisingly generative. ‘The renewal process involves heating asbestos waste to a high temperature in a controlled environment, causing it to lose its fibrous, hazardous form and recrystallize into stable silicate minerals. These end products can then be used as cement replacements or as mineral additives in other materials. The process also absorbs carbon dioxide, making it carbon-negative.’ the architects explain. Cement currently accounts for roughly 8% of global carbon emissions, and the renewed asbestos minerals can substitute up to a quarter of traditional cement content.

The architects were also struck by the aesthetic range of the transformed material, especially the ceramic glazes produced by Pompilli. ‘What surprised us most was the aesthetic quality of the outcomes, particularly the glazes produced from the renewed mineral. They create unpredictable, sometimes vivid colors that vary with the composition of the original asbestos,’ they tell us.

the studio reframes asbestos as a mineral whose future might diverge radically from its past

REDUX explores repair as a technical and poetic act

Built using these renewed materials, the installation at Sinel de Cordes is as much a spatial essay as it is a demonstration. It proposes that the city can heal itself by reworking its own debris and that innovation can emerge from the very substances that once caused harm. ‘Design has the capacity to turn legacies of harm into opportunities for repair. Landfills that cover asbestos on city fringes risk ongoing environmental contamination, while aging asbestos housing stock continues to pose health hazards globally. By transforming asbestos safely and at scale, we can recover vast tracts of urban land, reclaiming them as parklands, ecological corridors, or sites for sustainable housing,’ the architects share with us.

Walking through REDUX, visitors are invited to touch the newly formed materials, a radical gesture given the global stigma surrounding asbestos. ‘We hope visitors will approach the installation with curiosity. By allowing people to touch and closely observe the renewed material, the project invites a direct, physical understanding of transformation,’ Besley & Spresser explain. As they put it, ‘the goal is to replace the idea of asbestos as taboo with one of possibility.’

REDUX showcases carbon-negative materials derived from asbestos waste

origins of the project

The architects tell designboom that research began not in a lab but in a classroom. During a 2023 Master of Architecture studio at the University of Sydney, students investigated local asbestos dumping grounds. One team, Thomas Li, Kleopatra Ananda, and Jasmine Sharp, mapped the urban footprint of the material and eventually led the architects to Asbeter in the Netherlands. ‘This research led us to Asbeter in the Netherlands, pioneers in asbestos renewal, whose technology neutralizes asbestos fibers through a mineral recrystallization process. Their work revealed a global potential: turning a material long defined by fear and harm into a carbon-negative resource with architectural applications, from concrete and render to ceramic glaze,’ they reflect.

the architects point to the paradox of industrial material culture

asbestos is an ancient mineral, woven into the urban fabric | image courtesy of Besley & Spresser

recrystallizing asbestos into stable silicates | image courtesy of Besley & Spresser

the scientific process is uncompromising and surprisingly generative | image courtesy of Besley & Spresser

stable silicates can be used as cement replacements

visitors are invited to touch the newly formed materials | image by Hugo David

the installation at Sinel de Cordes is as much a spatial essay as it is a demonstration | image by Hugo David

project info:

name: 09.ED.15 REDUX

architects:  Besley & Spresser | @besleyspresser

collaborators: Asbeter (Rotterdam); Benedetta Pompili Studio (Amsterdam)

location: Palácio Sinel de Cordes, Lisbon, Portugal

research collaborators: Thomas Li, Kleopatra Ananda, Jasmine Sharp

support: Brickworks, AC Minerals Group, European Union, Renewi, Just Transition Fund, Provincie Noorde-Brabant, Betonova

structural advice: SDA Structures

installer: Cria Design, Besley & Spresser

The post besley & spresser transform asbestos into carbon-negative architectural materials appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

At Design Miami’s 20th edition, Paris-based architects and designers Berenice Curt and Caroline Duncan introduce the first chapter of Scenarii Édition, a new curatorial line extending their ongoing investigations within Berenice Curt Architecture. Presented in collaboration with The Spaceless Gallery, the debut features two pieces, the Tripodal chair and the Torii table. Both works rely on hand-polished stainless-steel frameworks, setting the stage for material experiments ranging from reclaimed wood to mycelium-grown textiles.

Scenarii Édition positions collectible design as a site for rethinking material life cycles. The studio’s method is grounded in the belief that leftover, irregular, or undervalued materials carry narrative weight. Throughout the debut collection, stainless steel becomes a stabilizing armature that welcomes evolving surface treatments, wood, stone, biomaterials, each chosen for its imperfections rather than despite them. This perspective, the designers note, transforms fragments into protagonists, allowing form to emerge through processes of elevation rather than erasure.

Torii table and tripodal arm chair | all images courtesy of Berenice Curt and Caroline Duncan

the tripodal chair: biomaterial meets hand-woven craft

The Tripodal chair, also available as an armchair, anchors its identity in a converging three-leg geometry, a polished stainless-steel structure conceived as a host for multiple future upholsteries and textures. For the special Design Miami edition with The Spaceless Gallery, Curt & Duncan pair the frame with Reishi, a mycelium-grown material developed by MycoWorks. 

This iterative, manual process sets up a dialogue between technological innovation and human gesture. The biomaterial’s softness contrasts with the precision of the steel, while the woven pattern reveals the value embedded in what would typically be discarded. In its Design Miami form, the Tripodal chair becomes an emblem for Scenarii Édition’s ethos. It’s sculptural yet adaptable, engineered yet mutable, and grounded in a belief that responsible fabrication can generate new aesthetic languages.

both works rely on hand polished stainless-steel frameworks

the torii table: reclaimed wood and polished steel

If the chair articulates the line’s material openness, the Torii table establishes its spatial vocabulary. Originally conceived around the reuse of marble fragments, the piece evolves at Design Miami into a composition combining a reflective stainless-steel frame with the warmth of walnut. The tabletop is constructed from reassembled slats cut from collected offcuts, forming a linear grain that reads as both pattern and process, the repetition of remnants producing a new visual continuity.

Cross-shaped legs give the table structural stability and sculptural clarity. Meanwhile, the polished steel captures ambient light, refracting it across the table’s surface and subtly animating its presence in space. Produced in a limited series, each Torii table bears the distinct signatures of its materials, reinforcing the edition’s attention to resource awareness and artisanal precision.

Torii table in ouro negro marble and polished stainless steel

combining a reflective stainless-steel frame with the warmth of walnut

Tripodal armchair in woven reishi mycelium leather

manual process sets up a dialogue between technological innovation and human gesture

Tripodal armchair in light grey suede leather

the Tripodal chair becomes an emblem for Scenarii Édition’s ethos.

sculptural yet adaptable

grounded in a belief that responsible fabrication can generate new aesthetic languages

a host for multiple future upholsteries and textures

project info:

name: Scenarii Edition | @scenarii_edition Tripodal chair and Torii table
designer: Berenice Curt & Caroline Duncan | @berenicecurt_architecte

designboom has received this project from our DIY submissions feature, where we welcome our readers to submit their own work for publication. see more project submissions from our readers here.

edited by: thomai tsimpou | designboom

The post mycelium textiles and reclaimed wood anchor scenarii édition’s debut at design miami 2025 appeared first on designboom | architecture & design magazine.

Scientists at EPFL have recycled food waste like shells from langoustines into functional, robotic claw machines that can hold onto objects. In a study by CREATE Lab, the team has tested whether crustacean shells could work better for some robotic tasks instead of the usual metal, plastic, or other synthetic materials. The scientists say that crustacean shells can function well because they are hard and rigid in some places, which gives them strength, and they are also flexible in other places, which allows them to bend. This mix of hard and soft parts lets the animals move fast and with high power in water, the same properties that can be useful for functional machines.

The researchers recycle food waste into machines by taking the langoustine abdomens, the tail sections, and modifying them with synthetic parts. They put an elastic material inside the shell to control how each segment moves. Then they attached the shell to a motorized base, which is a machine that can move and change how stiff or loose the shell becomes. Finally, they covered everything with a silicon coating to make it last longer. This process combines three things: the natural shell for structure, elastic materials for movement control, and the motorized base for power and precision. After the robotic system is used, the shell and the synthetic parts can be taken apart, and most of the synthetic components can be used again for other projects.

all images courtesy of EPFL and CREATE Lab

Robotic grippers made of crustacean shells can pick up objects 

The team at EPFL has created three different robotic systems. The first was a manipulator, a robotic arm that could pick up and move objects weighing up to 500 grams. The second was a pair of grippers that could hold and pick up things of different sizes and shapes, from a highlighter pen to a tomato. The third was a swimming robot with two shell fins that could move through water at speeds up to 11 centimeters per second. As seen in the video, the tests show that the recycled food waste can potentially grip objects as functional claw machines. However, the main problem with this method, as the scientists describe in their study, is that natural shells are not exactly the same. 

Each langoustine tail has a slightly different shape, and even when the team made two-fingered grippers, one side would bend a little differently than the other side because the shells were not identical. Luckily, the researchers have found a way to solve this, and that is by producing better synthetic parts that can be adjusted and tuned for each shell’s unique shape and properties. So far, the team has tested their method and believes that when they recycle food waste into machines, this could lead to new applications beyond grippers and swimmers, including using them for biological materials in medical implants or systems that monitor biological processes.

scientists at EPFL have recycled food waste like shells from langoustines into robotic claw machines

crustacean shells can function well because they are rigid in some places and flexible in other parts

view of the machine made of recycled food waste

the robotic grippers can hold onto objects that weigh up to 500 grams

an elastic material inside the shell controls how each segment moves

project info:

name: Dead Matter, Living Machines: Repurposing Crustaceans’ Abdomen Exoskeleton for Bio-Hybrid Robots

team: Sareum Kim, Kieran Gilday, Josie Hughes

institutions: CREATE Lab, EPFL | @epflcampus

study: here

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Researchers at Cornell University have developed a method that allows them to create the darkest fabric ever made, inspired by the ultrablack feathers of the magnificent riflebird. In the study, the group says that material can be used to improve solar thermal systems as well as camouflage clothing designed for thermal control. It is because the bird’s feathers can absorb almost all light with their complex physical structure and the melanin inside them. Ultrablack in this context means a surface that reflects less than 0.5 percent of incoming light, and the group has been able to make the textile using a method based on natural structures found in the feathers of the fowl. The project began in the Responsive Apparel Design Lab, which is part of the College of Human Ecology at the university. The team used white merino wool knit fabric as the base material and applied a two-step process. 

First, they dyed the wool with polydopamine, which is a synthetic form of melanin. They chose this dye because melanin is the pigment that helps many animals produce ultrablack surfaces. For the process, the dye went deep into the fibers of the wool, coating every section of the textile and making it hold the dark color. The second step in creating the darkest fabric ever made was plasma etching. The researchers at Cornell University placed the dyed merino wool inside a plasma chamber, which removed small amounts of surface material. After this process, the outer fibers of the wool developed nanofibrils, or the tiny growths that stand up from the fiber surface, which are a shape that traps incoming light. In this case, when light enters the space between these structures, it bounces repeatedly and doesn’t ‘escape’ from the fabric, preventing reflection and producing the ultrablack effect. 

all images courtesy of Cornell University

Light-absorbing material can be applied to solar thermal systems

The researchers at Cornell University studied the riflebird feathers to understand how similar structures function in nature. In their study, tests showed that the new fabric had an average reflectance of 0.13 percent, making it the darkest textile reported so far, they say. The darkest fabric also stays ultrablack across a wide viewing angle of 120 degrees, and the team considers this a breakthrough because existing ultrablack materials often change appearance at different angles, so the Cornell University process has managed to solve this. So far, the design team has used only common materials: merino wool, polydopamine dye, and standard equipment available in textile labs. 

The method can also be used on other natural fibers such as cotton and silk, and the group explained that the process is simple and scalable for larger production. It also produces a textile that can be worn and moved without losing its light-absorbing properties. The team explores potential uses for the darkest fabric inspired by ultralight feathers, with solar thermal systems as one potential. In these systems, absorbed light is converted into heat, and the ultrablack textile could increase the amount of light absorbed. Another potential use is camouflage clothing designed for thermal control, because the textile traps light and could help regulate heat exchange. The team has applied for patent protection and plans to move their research toward commercial use.

the team used white merino wool knit fabric as the base material

the researchers dyed the wool with polydopamine, which is a synthetic form of melanin

dress designed by Zoe Alvarez, a fashion design major, which uses the ultra-black material | photo by Ryan Young

the researchers draw inspiration from the ultrablack feathers of the magnificent riflebird

detailed view of the dress by fashion major student Zoe Alvarez

the ultrablack material stands out from the ‘typical’ dark textile

project info:

name: Ultrablack wool textiles inspired by hierarchical avian structure

institutions: Cornell University, Responsive Apparel Design Lab, College of Human Ecology, Cornell Lab of Ornithology | @cornelluniversity, @cornellhumec, @cornellbirds

researchers: Hansadi Jayamaha, Kyuin Park, Larissa M. Shepherd

study: here

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Copenhagen-based studio Daydreaming Objects upcycles vintage luminaire parts into modular lighting sculptures made of natural wax. Named Soft Solids, the series of lighting pieces are modular structures built from wax units, each shaped by hand. It encompasses different collections, and one of them is the Luminaire, which encompasses several collections, including vintage luminaires upcycled with newly designed natural wax shades. The others underline the object’s modularity and the studio’s use of plant-based materials. Here lies Stem, reminiscent of a totem and plant stem. It displays a stack of cylindrical wax units that can be removed and moved, depending on where the owner plans to place it.

Light shines through the semi-translucent wax layers, giving a glimpse of its internal texture, which is made of a plant-based material blend. There’s a newer collection called Scoop, a family of small, round-like lighting sculptures. Here, the designers used different kinds of plant-based wax, defining the light color of these luminaires. Each piece is shaped into more compact, light objects that owners could adapt for their spaces, containing a small LED system inside, which illuminates the wax from within and reveals the pattern of the fibers. All the light sculptures in the Soft Solids series use LED systems because they don’t produce strong heat that can deform or melt the repurposed wax.

all images courtesy of Daydreaming Objects | all photos by Norbert Tukaj

Soft solids lighting can be reshaped many times

Because wax is renewable and can be reshaped many times, Soft Solids by Daydreaming Objects looks at how natural materials can support circular design. The creation, led by the studio founders, lighting designer Ruta Palionyte and architect Ieva Baranauskaite, involves local craftspeople in the process, who assist with casting, finishing, and assembling the components. 

It is because the studio’s research focus is on how natural materials can be used again through new design methods. The project began with a basic question: how can wax be reused through upcycling, and how can it support new lighting designs? The team, then, has worked with pure, plant-based wax rather than a mixture containing plant particles. The surface of each blend receives a protective natural layer to increase the strength and heat resistance, as well as support the even diffusion of LED light.

Copenhagen-based studio Daydreaming Objects turns repurposed wax into modular light sculptures

studio Daydreaming Objects recycling old lighting pieces

The blends also make it possible to cast wax into many shapes without breaking or melting during everyday use. The light sculptures made of repurposed wax in the project are formed in two parts: the wax volume and the reused hardware. The hardware comes from old lighting pieces from Sweden, Italy, and former Czechoslovakia, including the mid-20th-century metal and glass components. 

The team pairs them with newly cast wax volumes, so in this way, the project combines old elements with new ones, showing how existing materials can be reused through updated design. So far, Daydreaming Objects studio won the recent Seoul Design Award 2025 for their Soft Solids work, demonstrating the potential of repurposed wax as a building material for lighting sculptures.

named Soft Solids, it is a series with several lighting pieces with modular structures

each design contains a small LED system inside

LED is used to avoid deforming or melting the wax

view when the lights are off

the soft glow of the LED passes through the semi-translucent skin of the lighting design

Soft Solids looks at how natural materials can support circular design

view of Stem, which displays a stack of cylindrical wax units that can be removed and moved

detailed view of Stem

Soft Solids won the Seoul Design Award 2025

project info:

name: Soft Solids Lighting

studio: Daydreaming Objects | @daydreaming_objects

photographer: Norbert Tukaj | @norberttukaj

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Researchers at the Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology (KAIST) experiment with using living bacteria that grow, weave, and dye their own fabrics in every color of the rainbow. The team’s idea is to replace chemical-based textile production with a natural process that uses microbes instead of oil, plastic, or artificial dyes. In doing so, they have shown how living bacteria can create bacterial cellulose, a material that can be used as fabric, and how the same bacteria can also color it without the use of synthetic dyes. The base material used in the method then is bacterial cellulose, which is a fibrous network made by bacteria during fermentation.  

It is produced when certain microbes grow in a nutrient-rich liquid and spin out long cellulose fibers. This material can also be harvested, cleaned, and dried to make a flexible sheet that can work like fabric. The researchers use a bacterium called Komagataeibacter xylinus, also known for producing cellulose. To add color, they use another group of bacteria that naturally make pigments that belong to two pigment families: violaceins and carotenoids. The former create colors from green to purple, while the latter create colors from red to yellow.

image courtesy of 祝 鹤槐, via Pexels

Textiles from bacterial cellulose come out in rainbow colors

At the beginning of the study, the researchers at KAIST tried to grow the two types of living bacteria for their fabrics that can grow and dye themselves together in the same container, but the process failed. The color-producing bacteria and the cellulose-producing bacteria interfered with each other’s growth. Sometimes, the cellulose layer did not form properly. Other times, the bacteria made very little color. To solve this, they changed the process into two different systems. For the cool colors such as blue, purple, and green, they used a delayed co-culture method, which means letting the cellulose-producing bacteria grow and form their network. Then, they added the color-producing living bacteria later, after the cellulose had already started forming for the fabrics that can dye themselves. 

This timing allowed both types of bacteria to grow without stopping each other’s activity. For the warm colors such as red, orange, and yellow, they used a sequential culture method. In this case, the cellulose was grown first, removed from the liquid, and cleaned. After that, it was placed into a separate container that held the pigment-producing bacteria (the cellulose absorbed the natural color from these microbes). Using these two methods, the team created fabrics of bacterial cellulose with dyes in purple, navy, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red from the living bacteria. These sheets can be used as a form of fabric. The process allows the rainbow colors to be built into the material itself, without the need for separate dyeing or chemical treatment.

image courtesy of Eva Bronzini, via Pexels

The process can reduce waste and water pollution

After producing the fabrics with dyes from living bacteria, the researchers tested how stable the colors were. They washed, bleached, and heated the materials as well as exposed them to acid and alkaline conditions, and they found out that most of the colors stayed the same after these tests. The fabrics made with violacein pigments were especially durable, even more resistant to washing than some synthetic dyes. Each piece of fabric with dye is created in a lab container, with the living bacteria growing in liquid culture, forming cellulose as they feed on nutrients. 

The cellulose can be harvested in sheets and then air-dried (the entire process uses living organisms instead of industrial machinery or chemical dye baths). The project, then, shows how materials can be produced using biology instead of petrochemicals. The process removes the need for harmful chemicals and can reduce waste and water pollution. However, it is still in the research stage, and the production speed is slower than in normal textile factories, and the cost is higher. The researchers estimate that it will take at least five years before this kind of material can be produced on a large scale, but they are hopeful that the design is a new process that could make textile production safer and less damaging to the environment.

image courtesy of the researchers at KAIST

image courtesy of Bernd Dittrich, via Unsplash

image courtesy of Moonstarious Project, via Unsplash

project info:

name: One-pot production of colored bacterial cellulose

institution: Korea Advanced Institute of Science and Technology (KAIST) | @official_kaist

researchers: Hengrui Zhou, Pingxin Lin, Ki Jun Jeong, Sang Yup Lee

study: here

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