From my admittedly limited exposure to Russian designer Dennis Chigidin, I think it’s fair to say that he believes in the idea of flow. His “The Meeting Room” interior, for instance, follows a definitive trajectory based on high luminosity; this long and narrow room is filled with light and highly reflective surfaces: multiple windows, metallic trim, heavily varnished tables and countertops, and an overhead bank of oddly-spaced rectangular lights create an overwhelming brilliance—a mise en scene that’s perfect for workplace inspiration. Along the same lines—albeit in a slightly less purposeful direction—his Modern Lamp suggests a kind of directionless trajectory.

Modern Lamp. Designed by Denis Chigidin.

Granted, I’m traveling in oxymoronic terrain here, but internal contradiction is at the heart of the piece, since the flat, intersecting planes that constitute the lamp simultaneously suggest and negate definitive motion. In my recent post on Andy Kem’s Breakplane, I alluded to the pre-assembled cardboard box as a symbolic template for certain kinds of design. Chigidin’s piece is in the same milieu, though, unlike Kem’s flat and even-sided creations, the Modern Lamp re-thinks the box, conceiving of it as a series of individual trapezoids with vertical connecting slats. (Anyone who’s ever broken down a 12-pack box would be familiar with the configuration). The resulting assembly suggests one of those vintage balsa wood model planes, as well as a suspiciously angular mobile. But, oddly, the sheer volume and number of the hard angles convey a certain circularity, just as in a cut glass chandelier.

But back to the idea of flow… if Meeting Room is meant to suggest forward motion and the inspiration that’s encouraged therein, what exactly does Modern Lamp imply? Chaos? Entanglement? Confusion? Let’s leave it for the blogosphere to decide…

Via Definitive Touch.