Juno began as a request: light suspended above a long table, with nothing heavy between the room and the glow. We answered with curls of nickel-plated copper, each one cradling a removable glass lens, hung from a satin-finish steel base. The light falls directly downward in bright, separate points — six, nine or twelve, as the table asks.

The thinnest blue line

Working on Juno, we wanted the cable to disappear. We made it as fine as we could and covered it in blue fabric, so that the only thing you notice is the light. That blue stayed with us, and it returns across our work to this day.

Every lens is interchangeable, every point hand-set into its curl. Form follows a simple idea: hold light in the air, and let the air do the rest.