Interview with Ivane Mazmanishvili

SHRE Studio was founded in Georgia in 2019, shortly after my graduation. The name comes from the Georgian word for "layer" — and that concept is at the heart of everything we do. We believe that great design is never one-dimensional. It exists in layers: functional and emotional, cultural and contemporary, local and universal.
I founded SHRE with a specific vision: to create a space that operates less like a traditional studio and more like a laboratory. A place where experimentation is not the exception but the method. Where we are free to question assumptions, test materials, explore new technologies, and arrive at solutions that are genuinely original rather than simply refined versions of what already exists.
Today SHRE Studio is a small, focused team of eight to nine people based in Georgia. We operate across interior design, product design, and lighting — with an increasingly strong focus on lighting as an architectural element in its own right. Our work has been recognized internationally, including the A' Design Award Bronze in the Lighting Products and Fixtures Design category for our Moono Pendant Sliding Light, as well as recognition at the LIT Lighting Design Awards. We are a young studio, but we think and position ourselves as a luxury design brand with a clear point of view.

Design, for me, is a layer — much like the meaning of our studio's name in Georgian. It is the layer between an idea and its realization, between a human need and its most elegant solution, between a culture and the objects it produces.
I do not see design as purely aesthetic or purely functional. It exists precisely at the intersection of both. A truly successful design is one that you feel before you understand it — one that makes sense to the body and the senses before the mind has processed why. That quality, that immediacy of rightness, is what I am always pursuing.
Design is also, for me, a form of communication. Every object, every space, every light fixture carries a message about values, priorities, and intentions. At SHRE, we are very deliberate about what message our work sends. We want it to say: thoughtful, considered, honest, and beautiful.

In recent years I have developed a deep passion for product design — and within that, lighting in particular. What draws me to lighting is that it sits at a unique intersection between object and atmosphere. A lighting fixture is simultaneously a sculptural presence and an invisible force that transforms everything around it. It has architecture in it, not just design.
I am most excited by objects that carry structural and architectural thinking within them — pieces that feel resolved at every scale, from the overall silhouette down to the smallest detail. Objects that would be compelling even without their function, but that gain additional meaning when that function is considered.
I am also deeply interested in the relationship between technology and craft — how new manufacturing methods and materials can be used not to replace handcraft but to elevate it, to make possible things that were previously unachievable.

Without question, the Moono Pendant Sliding Light is the design I am most proud of to date. It has won both the LIT Lighting Design Award and the A' Design Award Bronze in the Lighting Products and Fixtures Design category — recognitions that mean a great deal to us, but the design itself matters more than any award.
Moono was born from a simple but persistent question: why must a pendant light be fixed? We spend enormous energy designing the perfect position for furniture, for objects, for people within a space — yet the light above, which defines everything, remains static. Moono challenges that. It is a pendant light that slides along a track system, allowing the light source to move with life — to follow a reading chair moved closer to the window, to shift with a dinner table rearranged for guests, to adapt as a space evolves over time.
The form is architectural and intentional — referencing the moon in both name and silhouette, a quiet, luminous presence that belongs to the space without dominating it. The sliding mechanism is precise and considered, designed to feel effortless. We wanted movement to feel natural, not mechanical.
Moono represents everything SHRE stands for: functional intelligence expressed through refined form.

The first professional project was a residential interior — a private living space where I had the opportunity to work across architecture, interior design, and custom furniture selection simultaneously. It was an important early experience because it taught me that design at its best is holistic. The way a room is lit, the materiality of its surfaces, the proportions of its furniture — these are not separate decisions. They are one conversation. That understanding has stayed with me and continues to shape how SHRE approaches every project.

My relationship with materials is ongoing and always evolving, but I am consistently drawn to materials that carry honesty — materials that do not pretend to be something they are not. Stone, metal, glass, and quality textiles all have this quality. They age with integrity. They develop character rather than deteriorating.
In terms of technology, I have become deeply engaged with AI-assisted design tools over the past few years. Not as a replacement for creative thinking, but as an accelerant — a way to explore a much wider range of possibilities in the early conceptual phase, to test proportions and compositions rapidly, and to communicate ideas to clients and collaborators with greater clarity and speed. AI is changing the speed of iteration in design, and I think studios that embrace it thoughtfully will have a significant advantage.
I am also fascinated by 3D printing — particularly for its ability to prototype complex geometries that would be prohibitively expensive or technically impossible through traditional manufacturing. For a small studio like SHRE, it democratizes access to a level of formal complexity that was previously reserved for large manufacturers. It allows us to think ambitiously and test that ambition at relatively low cost, which is essential for a studio that values experimentation as a core methodology.

At night. There is a particular quality to late hours — the silence, the reduced stimulation — that allows ideas to surface more freely. During the day, design is work. At night, it becomes something closer to thinking.

User experience and tectonics — how a person physically and emotionally encounters an object or space. I am always asking: what does this feel like to touch, to move through, to live with? The structural logic of how something is built is equally important to me. Form and construction should be inseparable.

A sense of possibility. When I am deep in a design process, I feel like I am discovering something rather than inventing it — as though the right answer already exists and the work is simply finding it. There is also a quiet urgency to it, a feeling that what I am doing genuinely matters.

Pride, but also a kind of renewed energy. Seeing something move from sketch to physical object is never ordinary, no matter how many times it happens. It closes one chapter and immediately opens the next. Fulfillment and inspiration at the same time.

Rigor and courage in equal measure. High standards of quality, a willingness to prototype repeatedly across different materials, and — crucially — a comfort with failure. Some of our most important design decisions came directly from something that did not work. Failure is not the opposite of success in design; it is part of the process.

I always look for what is good first. Every design contains an intention, and understanding that intention honestly is the only fair starting point for evaluation. Criticism without first finding what works is not critique — it is just negativity.

To make life easier and more beautiful — and to take both of those equally seriously. We have a short time here. The environments we inhabit, the objects we use daily, the light we live under — these things shape our experience of being alive. A designer who understands that carries real responsibility. We should also design with longevity in mind: objects that last, that age well, that do not become waste.

AI and emerging technologies will generate forms and possibilities we cannot currently imagine. But I believe the role of the designer becomes more important, not less — because technology needs human judgment to give it meaning and direction. The future of design is not automation. It is a new kind of collaboration between human intuition and machine capability.

We are currently preparing to open SHRE LAB in Tbilisi — a multi-layered design laboratory conceived as a space for concept development, prototyping, production, and exhibition under one roof. It is the most ambitious project we have undertaken as a studio, and we envision it becoming a permanent home for our work and a platform for the wider Georgian design community.

From three places primarily: the work of others — designers, architects, artists across history and disciplines; nature, which remains the most sophisticated and unresolved design system that exists; and the piece itself — the way a material behaves, the way a proportion feels, the way a prototype reveals something unexpected. Sometimes the design tells you what it wants to become.

Minimalist in structure, warm in feeling. We are drawn to what might be called a Japandi sensibility — the intersection of Japanese restraint and Scandinavian functionality — but filtered through a Georgian cultural lens that adds its own symbolic depth. The result is work that is quiet but not cold, refined but not sterile. Luxury, for us, is not about excess — it is about precision and intentionality.

I live in Tbilisi, Georgia — a city layered with history, symbolism, and traditions that are still largely unknown to the wider world. That invisibility is something I feel strongly about changing. Georgia has an extraordinarily rich visual and cultural heritage, and I see it as part of SHRE's mission to bring that into conversation with contemporary international design. Our Georgian identity is not a limitation — it is a perspective that makes our work distinct.

Primarily through B2B collaborations — with manufacturers, developers, hospitality brands, and design-oriented businesses who understand the value of working with a studio that brings both creative and strategic thinking. We are always interested in partnerships where there is genuine mutual ambition.

Choose a designer whose thinking challenges you, not just one who executes your brief. The best outcomes come from genuine creative tension — when a company trusts a designer enough to be surprised. Look for curiosity and conviction, not just a portfolio.

It begins with research — understanding the problem, the context, the user, the material possibilities. Then sketching, which for me is thinking made visible. Then prototyping — many times, across different materials, at different scales. I believe strongly in making things with your hands at early stages. Being your own manufacturer, at least temporarily, teaches you things about a design that no software can reveal.

A well-made ceramic object whose weight feels exactly right. A lamp that creates the right shadow at the right moment. A chair that has been sat in so many times it has become a record of time. A book whose cover design is as considered as its contents. And a material sample — stone, metal, or wood — that sits on my desk as a reminder of what physical quality actually feels like.

Work, movement, and looking. I start with the studio — reviewing work in progress, meeting the team, solving problems. I make time to move, physically — it clears the mind and resets perspective. And throughout the day I am always looking: at how light falls, at proportions, at the way people inhabit spaces. Inspiration is not something I wait for. It is something I stay open to.

Persist. Fail without embarrassment. The difference between designers who build something meaningful and those who don't is rarely talent — it is the willingness to continue when the work is hard and the results are uncertain. Also: make things with your hands as early and as often as possible. Physical making teaches lessons that no screen can.

The greatest positive is that you spend your life solving problems through beauty — there are very few professions where those two things coexist so naturally. The most difficult aspect is the sustained belief required. You must believe in your work before anyone else does, often long before any external validation arrives. That requires a particular kind of resilience.

User first. Always. A design that does not serve the person who lives with it has failed, regardless of how beautiful it is.

The ability to find inspiration anywhere — in a texture, a conversation, a shadow, a structural detail. Curiosity is the foundation of everything. Beyond that: the ability to communicate ideas clearly, to listen carefully, and to remain critical of your own work without losing confidence in it.

Sketchbooks and pencils at the beginning — always. Then CAD software and 3D modeling tools for development. 3D printing for prototyping complex geometries. Routers and hand tools for physical model making. And an ongoing library of material samples, because understanding materials requires touching them, not just seeing them on a screen.

By protecting the time that matters most. Creative thinking requires uninterrupted space — I try to reserve early mornings or late evenings for deep work, and use the middle of the day for meetings and communication. Time management in a studio is ultimately about understanding which tasks require your full presence and which do not.

It depends entirely on the object and the ambition. A year is not unusual for a product we care about deeply. But in another sense, a design is never truly finished — there are always new colorways to explore, materials to test, proportions to refine. Moono continues to evolve. That openness to ongoing refinement is part of what keeps the work alive.

"What inspires you?" — which is both the easiest and hardest question to answer. Everything, honestly. But specifically: other makers, natural systems, Georgian cultural heritage, and the behavior of materials under different conditions.

Opening SHRE Studio. The decision to build something of your own — with its own identity, its own values, its own way of working — is the most formative experience a designer can have. It forces clarity about what you actually believe.

We work with private residential clients, investors, and design-oriented businesses across Georgia and internationally, with a primary focus on the Italian and French markets.

Concept development — the earliest stage, when everything is still possible. There is a particular freedom in that phase that I find irreplaceable. The subsequent stages of refinement and production are equally important, but the moment of conception, when an idea first finds its form, is what I live for.

SHRE LAB is our most immediate and important priority — a physical space in Tbilisi that integrates concept development, prototyping, production, and exhibition. It is the infrastructure we need to grow. Beyond that, we are actively expanding into European markets, with a particular focus on Italy and France, and developing new product lines that continue the direction established by Moono.

I develop the concepts and direction myself, but my team is essential to making them real. Design at SHRE is a collective act — the ideas may originate with me, but they are realized, refined, and improved through the intelligence and skill of everyone in the studio.

We are currently developing a series of lighting objects inspired by Georgian symbolic heritage — forms drawn from ancient ornamental systems that have never been translated into contemporary product design. It is work that feels important to us, both creatively and culturally.

Through our website at shre.ge, where you can find our portfolio, current projects, and contact information.

We are actively looking for collaborations — with manufacturers, distributors, galleries, and design-oriented brands who share our values. SHRE is a young studio with clear ambitions and a distinctive point of view, and we believe the most interesting work comes from the right partnerships. If our work resonates with you, we would love to hear from you.