A sculptural table with a textured, irregularly shaped top and three thick, uneven metal legs on a gray background.

New Character - Fjara

Like the iridescent scales of a boa, the tabletop reveals a structure that lies between clarity and movement. Its irregular shape is the result of an intuitive design process — shaped with dedication to craftsmanship, experimentation, and the unexpected.

With Fjara, Bretz opens another chapter of experimental material poetry. Inspired by the iconic Boa velour — a fabric that embodies fluid sensuality and unfolds both visual and tactile depth — a form was created that was not simply transferred but speaks a new language. Named after the Icelandic word for the tidal zone, Fjara carries this idea forward: a surface as if drawn by the retreat of the sea, by waves that fade and traces that remain.

Fjara is the result of countless attempts to understand forms, to feel patterns, and to explore material. It was never about perfection, but about expression. Early stages, experimentation, casting molds — the design did not follow a strict plan, but a process of discovery, with room for the unforeseen

Cast sensuality

Handcrafted in collaboration with a foundry, hard material meets soft lines — a play of contrasts that reflects our longing for naturalness and touch. At the same time, Fjara carries within it an idea of permanence: aluminum can be remelted and reshaped almost without loss — ready to transform again and again. A piece with presence, origin, and future.

Person with glasses touching a large, textured, white stone-like object on a smooth, gray floor.


“I wanted to design a table that doesn’t reveal itself immediately. A statement piece that unfolds its language only through touch, observation, and life within a space,” says designer Tamara Zgraggen.





Fjara is a rhapsody in silver — an homage to the tension between structure and freedom, between stillness and movement. It reflects the orderly chaos of nature, where nothing is perfect — and yet everything is in harmony.

“I don’t see Fjara as merely a piece of furniture, but as a kind of landscape — like a fragment of Icelandic coastline that reveals itself over time, offering a new meaning with every perspective.”