Light Generator- Berlin Design Week

I grew up in Tbilisi, Georgia in the 1990s — a post-Soviet city where electricity, gas, and water came and went like guests who never announced themselves. When the lights went out, my father's generator would roar to life. He bought it twice. Both times it was stolen from our balcony. Once while it was still running. When the generator was gone, we had candles. The whole family in one room — bored, warm, together. My sister discovered that melted candle wax behaves like clay. She sculpted. We watched. We told stories. This piece is both of those things at once — a candle and a generator. Light born from need. Art born from resilience. I made it by hand, the way my sister taught me without knowing she was teaching me anything at all.