Not long ago, a comment on one of our posts struck a chord. It read:
“Am I the only one who has no idea what these objects do? There’s so much fluff in the description that you can’t even figure out the intention.”
We understand where that sentiment comes from. We live in a world that constantly asks: What does it do? How is it useful? What purpose does it serve? Productivity has become the measure of value.
But what if the question isn’t always what does it do—but what does it mean?
Our Objects collection was born from this very philosophy. These pieces aren’t defined by function alone; they’re shaped by feeling, presence, and the moments they create. The puzzles. The megalith games. The bowls. They invite you to slow down. To play. To gather. To enjoy the tactile pleasure of stone, the weight of history in your hands, the beauty of form for its own sake.
Each one begins simply as a remnant—offcuts of stone that might otherwise be forgotten. Instead of being discarded, they are carved into beautiful objects that carry both memory and meaning.
In many ways, Objects remind us of ourselves. We are more than our to-do lists, more than our job titles, more than the relentless pursuit of productivity. Our worth isn’t tied to constant output. It’s revealed in how we live, love, rest, and create meaning in the spaces in between.
An object doesn’t need to justify itself with utility. A puzzle doesn’t have to be more than a puzzle. A bowl can simply hold beauty. A piece of stone can simply exist—grounding, timeless, and whole.
Perhaps that is the intention: to reframe how we see purpose. Not everything must prove its worth through practicality. Sometimes the most profound things in life are those that make us pause, smile, and connect—with ourselves, with others, with beauty.
So no, it’s not really about what our Objects do. It’s about who they help us be.
