Fold
A mint pocket lump designed to make a repeatable crease. The crease always chooses a different place.
Toy studio · Small year no. 07
One soft
One soft
object a year.
We are Blob & Co., a tiny toy studio for people who still press their thumb into the good bit of the sofa. Everything we make earns a whole year of attention.
Focus the tray. Use left and right arrow keys to choose a blob, Enter to pick it up, arrow keys to move it, and Escape to let it settle home.
2025 / studio object
The Almost
Peach
A palm-sized, not-quite-fruit for desk meetings, waiting rooms and slow train windows. Press its shy dimple; the whole body yields, then finds its shape again. We spent six months finding the exact pause before the bounce.
- bodyfood-safe platinum silicone, matte as a peach bloom
- weight146 g — present enough to settle a busy hand
- colourblush, with a small butter-yellow stone
- releaseSeptember 19, 2025 · 800 numbered pieces
Previous soft things
A very small shelf.
Seven years, seven useful little interruptions to the hard-edged day.
Orbit
A ring that turns every table into a tiny, very patient solar system.
Side Bean
The first one with a lean. Kept beside keyboards and borrowed by everyone.
A small return-time test
Press. Hold.
Let it remember.
The Almost Peach is tuned to answer a hand, not a stopwatch. Give it three small presses and it will leave you a note from the workbench.
A dimple follows your thumb. The tray keeps three impressions, then asks for a clean start.
Return-time notebook
- No thumbprints yet.
The slow toy promise
We leave room for a second thought.
Each release begins with a question that cannot be answered by adding another feature: what should a hand feel when it has nowhere else to be?
Clay, foam and unreasonably soft silicone live on our kitchen table until the surface tells us where it wants to cave in.
One object a year lets us wear in the tools, learn their oddities and keep the familiar imperfections that make a batch feel alive.
A return to shape should take a breath. That tiny delay is the entire conversation between your hand and the object.
Occasional studio letter
From the soft side of the workbench.
Once every few weeks, we send a material test, a badly drawn mould, or a note from the afternoon something finally felt right. No launch countdowns. No urgency theatre.