The word “Andromeda” is one of those meaning-laden terms with all sorts of tantalizing metaphorical applications. Strictly speaking, it refers to a “broad-leaved evergreen Asiatic shrub with glossy leaves and drooping clusters of white flowers.” But it also suggests the Greek myth of an an Ethiopian princess who was to be sacrificed to a terrifying sea monster. And, of course, there’s the Andromeda nebula–the sprawling gaseous gossamer galaxy which includes our very own milky way. The lovely and intricate lighpieces by Andromeda Murano are certainly apropos of the name.

Nastro Collection. Designed by Andromeda Murano.

The inscrutable and intricately wrought chandeliers and shades of the Nastro collection, especially, do these multiple assignations every justice. Constructed of orange peel-thin curlicues of Murano glass, these pieces evoke the terror and wonder of the Andromeda myth, as well as the enigmatic vastness of the Nebula, not to mention the organic forms of the shrubbery. The Nastro collection consists of hanging lamps, flush-mount ceiling lamps, and wall brackets in a variety of shapes and sizes, each characterized by Nastro’s signature assemblage of serpentine shards of brightly-colored Murano glass. And as if the aforementioned descriptors aren’t enough to handle, here’s another one for you: the lights look like multi-hued agglomerations of curly fries. As odious as that comparison might seem, it actually fits the bill, for the Nastro pieces have a kind-of vegetable sensibility (perhaps the razor thin leaving of peeled carrots would do better here, especially in regards to the large ochre pendant lamp).

As with any product fortunate enough to be made of Murano glass, the Nastro pieces are possessed of a delicate beauty. Looking at the sculptured profile of the multiple Murano strands that comprise each piece, the neurotic in me is immediately worried that they’ll rupture at the slightest touch, leaving nought but an ineffable dusting of crystalline powder in its wake. To this I can only say it’s a good thing they’re out of reach of the children–mounted up high to be disturbed only by the occasional salllies of adventurous (and equally smitten) nighttime spiders.