As a child, I spent many of my weekends at local construction sites, trying not to get nails embedded in my feet. This dangerous visitation ritual was thanks to my father, an engineer who simply couldn’t let go of his jobsite anxieties - in his mind, everything would fall apart without his constant supervision (he probably even dreamed of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge).

Spaghetti Chandelier. Designed by ZNP Creative.

Much of what I liked about these tours was based on the magic of the unfinished, the exposed, the skeletal: rebar sticking up in all directions like rusted licorice; scaffolding growing from building facades like yellow vines; and cage lights hanging from pipes like orange veins. Alas, here were the building’s internal organs in all their messy, serpentine glory… and what a tremendous sight. But enough with my own self-indulged nostalgia.

This same enthusiasm for the raw is embodied in the Spaghetti Chandelier, recently launched at London’s 100% Design show and already featured in November’s Maison magazine (Asian edition). Hatched from South Korea’s ZNP Creative, the Spaghetti Chandelier concretizes the designer’s trademark: “no logic but heart.” The chandelier’s accidental form, composed of red-colored electric wires, is anchored by a white powder-coated metal wire frame-an arachnid body from which the intenstines spew in graceful arcs. You will recognize the orange cord immediately, as I did (hence the previous conjuring of childhood memories). ZNP explains this choice: “Widely used as an industrial material, here it has been employed to give a unique look to this domestic product.”

The Spaghetti Chandelier is particularly fitting to discuss this Halloween week, as it transmogrifies ordinary stuff into surprising encounters-like peeled grapes into eyeballs. Except you have control here: ZNP’s pendant light has a special socket that lets you attach the lighting to the wire structure however your heart desires. It shuns the uniform, demands the random, and celebrates the uncanny. This is the chandelier of a postmodern Dracula, the one he stands under in his great hall as he beckons you into his castle.