Design Narrative
Venomous
Coiled like something wild. Lit like something alive.
The Name
Say It Out Loud
The first thing “venomous” brings to mind probably isn’t a chandelier. It’s something coiled and wild, a snake mid-strike, all sinuous muscle and raw, untamed energy. That reaction isn’t a coincidence.
Look at the frame and you’ll see why. It doesn’t move in straight lines. It coils, thickens, and tapers the way a snake’s body does, more animal than architecture.
But the name works twice over. Underneath that wild first impression is a made-up word, stitched together on purpose: venous, for the branching, vein-like structure the globes hang from, and luminous, for the soft glow that escapes through them. Raw and alive on the outside, quietly radiant within.
The Inspiration
Grown, Not Built
Ben designed the frame around a single question: what does a branch actually look like up close, not a symbol of one, but the real thing? Not straight. Not symmetrical. Twisting slightly with every fork, thickening near the trunk, thinning as it reaches outward.
That became the entire structure of Venomous. Every curve in the bronze frame is deliberate, but none of them repeat, the same rule a real branch follows as it grows toward the light.
Yours To Set
A Chandelier You Help Finish
Every globe on Venomous sits on its own rotating joint, connected to the branching frame but free to turn. Angle them all the same way and the piece reads as ordered, almost architectural. Let them scatter in different directions and it reads as something still growing.
There’s no correct configuration. Some owners set theirs once and leave it. Others adjust it the way you’d prune a plant, a little at a time, over years. Either way, the arrangement of the globes is the one you chose.
Flow And Glow
Built To Look Like Two Different Pieces
Each globe is two materials working against each other. The top is hand-stitched goatskin parchment, translucent enough that light passes straight through it. The base is a solid, dark cap that blocks the light completely. Turned off, Venomous reads as sculpture, dark, dense, almost architectural. Turned on, the same piece turns soft and warm, glowing from a dozen points at once like something alive.
One Design, Three Forms
Built To Work In Any Orientation
The branching frame takes more than one shape. It stretches wide as a horizontal chandelier, falls into a long vertical column, or gathers close against the wall as a sconce, and in every form the same coiled line carries the same glow.
A Chandelier That’s Never Quite Finished
Venomous was made to be touched, adjusted, and lived with. Whatever angle you leave the globes at, whatever finish you choose for the frame, the idea stays the same: a branching structure that glows exactly where you decide it should.