Some collaborations announce themselves loudly. JS . THONET does the opposite - and that restraint is precisely the point. The collection, born from Jil Sander's personal interpretation of one of design's oldest living archives, doesn't reimagine Thonet so much as edit it: stripping back, refining, finding the essential line beneath decades of iteration. Clerkenwell Design Week offers the clearest view yet of where that process is heading. At the Catapult Space in the German Pavilion on Sekforde Street, the collection is presented in full, with the new S 411 lounge chair making its case alongside the established S 64 cantilever. Where the S 64 is all tension and structure - the Bauhaus principle made physical - the S 411 settles into something more considered. Lower, quieter, unhurried. A chair that understands the difference between presence and noise. Together, the two pieces articulate what JS . THONET has always been about: the idea that a 180-year-old craft vocabulary, in the right hands, still has something new to say. Sander's hands, it turns out, are precisely the right ones.

There's a particular kind of showroom visit that feels less like a product presentation and more like being let in on something. Out of Boundaries: Design & Art in Dialogue at Ethimo's Old Street space is that kind of visit. The installation is built around the Loop sofa - Elena Salmistraro's newest outdoor piece for the brand - and it's Salmistraro herself who has shaped the experience. Original drawings line the space: not mood boards or finished renderings, but the working marks of a designer thinking out loud. The sketches that precede the object. The lines that didn't make it, and the ones that did. It's a generous thing to show. The Loop is distinctive enough on its own terms - sculptural, unhurried, with the kind of form that resists easy categorisation - but seeing the decisions that led to it changes the way you read it. Less finished product, more resolved conversation. For a brand whose work lives outdoors, there's something fitting about an exhibition that refuses to stay within the usual boundaries of a product launch. Salmistraro's practice has always moved between design and art without much interest in the distinction. Here, Ethimo invites you to follow.

The piece draws from two sources that rarely share a room: the optical restlessness of Op Art and the stillness of a lantern. A precise linear pattern runs through a sculpted column - not printed on, not applied, but integrated through nonplanar slicing, a fabrication process that lets the toolpaths negotiate between structure and surface. The result sits somewhere between relief and graphic, where neither fully wins. What makes it worth circling, and you will circle it, is what happens as you move. The relationship between the pattern and the column's geometry is never fixed. Alignments appear, then dissolve. The form asserts itself, then recedes. The lines that seemed purely decorative from one angle become structural from another. Concealed illumination deepens the effect, pulling shadow and translucency into the conversation, making the surface feel less like something to look at and more like something to read. There are few venues in Clerkenwell better suited to a piece about depth and concealment. The House of Detention - a 19th-century subterranean prison whose vaulted corridors and worn surfaces carry their own accumulated texture - gives Loom Light exactly the kind of backdrop that asks something of it. In that space, the interplay of shadow and structure is no longer just formal. It feels earned.

Clerkenwell Green has a new address this week. The founders of the Wax Building - Tamart, Cozmo, Minimalux, and Lightmass - have taken over 30 Clerkenwell Green for CDW, transplanting the spirit of their permanent Shoreditch destination into the heart of the festival. If you know the Wax Building, you'll recognise the sensibility. If you don't, this is a reasonable place to start. Tamart anchors the visit with two launches. The Highgate Chair is the more considered proposition: a 3-in-1 adaptable piece that earns the description without making a performance of it — the kind of furniture that solves a problem so quietly you barely notice the solution. Alongside it, the Clore Dining Table in oak makes the case for material honesty, its grain and weight doing the talking. Together, the pieces reflect what Tamart does well: furniture that knows what it is and doesn't oversell it. In a week full of spectacle, that kind of confidence tends to stand out.

There's something fitting about hanging a sculpture made of folded light inside one of London's oldest churches. Resonance, the new large-scale installation by Fung+Bedford, does exactly that - four illuminated twisted paper sculptures suspended in the nave of St Bartholomew the Great, a building that has been absorbing sound and ceremony since 1123. The work is rooted in the logic of origami: each piece originates from a single sheet, and the four together span four metres overhead. Individually they feel incomplete - that's intentional. The installation explores emergence, the idea that complexity arises from simple systems, and that the whole can exceed what any part suggests. In this case the effect is visual and almost atmospheric: light travelling through the folds, activated by the memory of the space around it. The materials are quietly clever. Hand-folded aluminium and Tyvek give the sculptures their structural crispness, while the LED system is integrated into the architectural fixings - solving the practical problem of sag while keeping the piece looking impossibly light. At Clerkenwell Design Week, Resonance makes a compelling case for installation as a form of listening: to a building, to history, and to the particular silence that only very old places hold.