There are certain materials that never really disappear from interiors. Murano glass is one of them.
Trends change, colours shift, minimalism arrives and leaves again, yet Murano glass somehow continues to feel relevant - whether in a centuries-old European apartment or a contemporary home with almost nothing in it.
I think part of its appeal is that it never feels entirely perfect.
Even the most refined Murano pieces usually retain evidence of the hand that made them. Tiny irregularities in the glass, slight asymmetry, small bubbles, unusual folds or curves. They feel alive in a way that machine-made objects rarely do. Aged pieces are cloudy with patina.
For centuries, Murano Island - a small island just outside Venice - has been associated with some of the world’s most skilled glassmaking. Venetian glassmakers were moved there in the late 1200s, partly to reduce the risk of fires spreading through Venice from the furnaces, but also to protect the secrets of the trade.
Over time, Murano became synonymous with innovation in glassmaking. Techniques such as aventurine, lattimo, sommerso and pulegoso were developed there, many of which are still admired and replicated today. Families of glassmakers passed skills through generations, and certain workshops became known almost like fashion houses - recognised for particular forms, colours, or techniques.
What makes Murano glass so enduring is that it sits somewhere between art and object.
A Murano light fitting, vase, or bowl is functional, but it is also sculptural. Even simple pieces tend to interact beautifully with light. The glass catches, softens, and diffuses it in ways that feel difficult to replicate with newer materials.
I often think Murano glass works best when it is allowed to be the unexpected thing in a room.
A single hand-blown pendant above a dining table. A softly twisted lamp on an otherwise minimal console. A strange little glass dish amongst more restrained objects. It introduces movement and softness into a space without overwhelming it.
Many vintage Murano pieces from the mid-century era also feel remarkably contemporary today. The organic forms, unusual silhouettes, and experimentation with texture are very much in line with what designers continue to gravitate toward now.
That’s probably why collectors still search for it so obsessively.
Not simply because it is “Murano,” but because the best pieces possess something increasingly rare: individuality. They feel human. No two are ever entirely alike.
When sourcing for the atelier, I’m always drawn to Murano glass that feels sculptural rather than overly ornate — pieces with unusual forms, soft opacity, interesting texture, or a certain quiet drama. The kinds of objects that shift the atmosphere of a room simply by being present.
Good Murano glass has a way of doing that.
It catches the light, but it also catches your eye.