Most desk pen cups end up as graveyard storage for half-dead markers, random pencils, and that one pen you actually like, buried somewhere in the mix. The usual cylinder treats every tool the same, even though your hand instinctively knows which pen feels right for signing documents or writing notes that matter. A little hierarchy on the desk might do more to calm the visual noise than another storage bin that just shuffles the clutter around.
Konus is an aluminum pen holder that takes Bauhaus principles seriously rather than using them as decoration. Designed by Liam de la Bedoyere, it is built from two inverted cones, one hollowed out to hold everyday tools, the other reduced to a single aperture for a chosen pen. It is a personal project, which gives it permission to be a bit more pure and uncompromising than mass-market organizers that try to please everyone and end up feeling generic.
Designer: Liam de la Bedoyere
The larger cone becomes the communal container, swallowing the usual mix of pens and markers without complaint. The smaller cone acts like a tiny plinth for one special pen, the good ballpoint or fountain pen that always ends up lost under papers when you need it. This simple split creates a visual and functional hierarchy, your hand learning that the main cone is for grabbing anything, while the smaller one is where the favored pen lives, ready when you need it.
Konus is machined from aluminum with a satin finish that catches light softly rather than shouting for attention. The cork base keeps it from sliding on smooth desks and adds a bit of warmth against hard surfaces. Together, the cool metal and warm cork make it feel more like a small piece of desk architecture than a plastic cup, something you notice without it becoming a distraction or requiring constant attention.
A typical day with Konus on the desk means the main cone slowly fills with whatever pen you grabbed last, while the single aperture keeps your favorite anchored in one place. There is a small pleasure in always knowing where that pen is, and the object quietly nudges you to put it back in its slot instead of letting it disappear under papers or into a drawer where it will live for weeks before you find it again.
The cones embody that Bauhaus idea of form leading function without relying on labels or moving parts. Dropping tools into the big opening is effortless, but placing a pen into the small aperture feels deliberate, almost like docking a tiny instrument. Over time, that difference turns into a quiet ritual that organizes both the desk and your habits, making you slightly more intentional about which tools stay within reach and which ones can live in a drawer.
