The back of Teenage Engineering’s EP-35 opens to reveal a compartment for cables and accessories. It’s a wonderfully unglamorous feature to put on a music gadget. An amp can look perfectly composed in a product photo, but taking it anywhere means figuring out where the supporting cast goes. Giving those loose pieces a home inside the speaker feels like an acknowledgment of how people actually use their equipment.

That practical streak extends beyond storage. Listed for sale at $399, the EP-35 combines a portable speaker, an instrument amplifier, and a USB audio interface. It accepts guitar, microphone, line-level, Bluetooth, and USB audio, with multiple sources able to play together. The problem it addresses is straightforward: playing guitar over a backing track, or adding vocals, shouldn’t require assembling a small equipment department. Here, those connections meet in one box.

Designer: Teenage Engineering

Visually, the EP-35 has the charm of equipment that might belong in a very stylish school science lab. Its gray body, square grille, integrated handle, and orange accents are deliberately matter-of-fact. I like that the speaker drivers remain visible behind the grid. They give the front a slightly awkward, almost characterful expression. Nothing about the proportions suggests an object desperate to disappear into your decor, which is part of its appeal.

The controls make a similar impression. There are physical dials for choosing effects and adjusting their intensity, with eight presets each for guitar and microphone. That’s an approachable arrangement: select a sound, turn a control, hear what changes. I’d rather see that direct relationship on something intended for casual playing than a screen full of options. The microphone effects even include presets called “robo choir” and “frog,” which gives you a fair idea of the intended mood.

The USB audio interface is less visually entertaining but potentially more useful. Connect the EP-35 to a computer and it can serve as a recording interface, giving the same object a role at a desk after it comes home. That continuity makes sense to me. A portable device earns its shelf space more easily when it doesn’t become redundant the moment you’re near a power outlet and a laptop.

Inside the storage compartment, Teenage Engineering has also included a small camp light. It can illuminate the compartment automatically when opened, stay on, or react to incoming audio in disco mode. Tilting the speaker backward makes those LEDs display the battery level. Some of this is useful, some is cheerfully unnecessary. I’m happy with that balance. Checking a battery through a small physical gesture is a more memorable interaction than another tiny percentage readout.

Portability does need a little perspective, though. At about seven pounds, the EP-35 is something you carry by its handle, not casually toss into a small shoulder bag. Teenage Engineering rates battery life at 12 hours with the volume set to five, so that figure shouldn’t be treated as an all-day guarantee at any loudness. It’s also splash-resistant rather than waterproof. Those distinctions matter if the appealing camp light has you mentally packing it for a weekend outdoors.

There’s room to expand the setup, too. Two EP-35s can play Bluetooth audio in stereo through broadcast mode. Teenage Engineering’s instructions let you assign left and right channels by tilting each speaker before starting that mode. Connected instruments take a different route: linking their sound between speakers requires a line-out-to-line-in cable. That’s worth understanding before imagining a completely wireless mini stage. The wireless convenience applies specifically to Bluetooth playback.

For me, the $399 price makes the most sense if those musical connections will get regular use. Someone who only wants background listening would be paying for considerable capability they might never touch. Sound quality still needs a listening test; clever packaging can’t settle that question. But I appreciate the attention paid to what happens between sessions. The music stops, the cables come out, and the EP-35 gives you somewhere to put them. That’s a modest design decision with a very recognizable payoff.

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Blue and lilac yarn snakes through white plastic ribs in one of FilaLoom’s samples, giving the object a basketlike appearance that makes me want to pick it up. The appeal is easy to understand: intricate geometry only gets you so far when you want an object with a textile character. FilaLoom brings actual yarn into the process, letting the fibers remain visibly, unapologetically themselves.

Developed by industrial and computational designer Joram de Haas for his master’s thesis in Integrated Product Design at TU Delft, FilaLoom lets a desktop 3D printer automatically weave yarn into printed objects. It addresses a practical fabrication problem: combining printed structures with thread without making yarn placement a separate manual task. It’s a working research project, with DIY files available, rather than a finished consumer accessory.

Designer: Joram de Haas

The prototype uses a Bambu Lab A1 fitted with a yarn-depositing tool and a parking station. The printer builds plastic anchor points, picks up the tool, and guides yarn between them. It then parks the tool and resumes printing, securing the yarn where needed. That alternating sequence allows the structure and its textile elements to develop together, rather than requiring someone to thread a completed plastic skeleton afterward.

I like the restraint in the mechanism. FilaLoom uses the printer’s existing movement system, with no additional electronics. A mechanical coupling handles tool changes, while a spring-loaded spool provides adjustable yarn tension. The machine already knows how to move precisely; this attachment gives that movement another useful job.

Visually, the blue-and-lilac sample is a persuasive introduction. Its white vertical elements remain clearly legible, while the colored yarn establishes a contrasting horizontal rhythm. Neither material disappears into the other. To my eye, that makes the construction more interesting than a uniformly textured surface. You can follow the relationship between the ribs and the thread, which gives the pattern a purpose beyond decoration. It looks assembled through its own making.

The thesis also explores soft yarn textures and cable-driven interactions, extending the idea beyond basketlike objects. That range matters because a recognizable woven pattern could easily become the project’s entire identity. I’d be more interested in seeing designers use the process to decide where an object should bend, where it needs structure, or where a different surface character would be welcome. Those are design questions worth experimenting with.

The DIY format gives curious makers somewhere to start. De Haas’s GitHub repository provides printable component files and Grasshopper scripts for generating compatible GCode, the instructions that direct the printer’s movements. Still, that’s a more involved proposition than downloading a decorative planter file and pressing print. For a general audience, the useful distinction is that FilaLoom is an invitation to experiment with a fabrication method, not a ready-made home gadget.

There are physical compromises, too. The researchers report that the attachment reduces the A1’s usable combined printing-and-weaving volume to 54% of its original build volume. Yarn tension also needs care: too much can deform a print or pull it off the build plate. These constraints make the prototype more convincing to me, because its expanded capabilities come with clearly described boundaries.

I wouldn’t judge this project by how quickly it might replace a familiar manufacturing process. Its more immediate value is giving designers a way to test combinations they might otherwise have to assemble by hand. Even a small sample can help answer whether a pattern deserves to become a larger object. That feels like an appropriately useful ambition for a research tool.

For me, the strongest outcome would be an object whose form genuinely needs both materials. The yarn shouldn’t have to justify itself as a decorative flourish, and the plastic shouldn’t merely serve as a bulky substitute for thread. FilaLoom makes that relationship available for exploration. I’d happily trade another perfectly smooth printed vase for an experiment that leaves a little more to discover under your fingertips.

The post FilaLoom Weaves Yarn Into 3D Prints Without Extra Motors first appeared on Yanko Design.