The doors of our new showroom are open. Tower 2, Wangjing SOHO, Chaoyang District, Beijing — the city that has watched us work since our founding now has a room of its own to show for it.

A showroom can too easily become a catalogue with legs. Ours is meant to behave like a house. The ceilings are dark, the walls pale plaster, the floor one quiet pour of grey stone, and the lamps carry everything else. Sixty of them hang at three heights along the long hall, each on its own circuit, each switched on by hand every morning by whoever arrives first. Nothing here is lit evenly. Bright pools sit beside deliberate shadow, because a form only reads when something behind it stays quiet.

Three rooms, three temperatures of light

The first room holds our suspended pieces, hung low enough that you walk beneath them and feel the glass change the air. The second is a domestic room: a table, two chairs, a wall wash, a reading lamp, the exact scale of an ordinary evening. The third is the workshop corner, where a bench, a rack of files and a length of raw brass stay as they are in the atelier, so the hand that made these things is visible rather than implied.

What to expect when you visit

• Open Monday to Sunday, 9:00 to 18:00. No appointment needed, though we are glad of them.
• Every lamp on the floor can be switched on and off by you. Please do.
• Materials wait on the bench to be touched: brass, copper leaf, hand-blown glass, dyed linen.
• Custom sizes, finishes and cable lengths are discussed at the long table, drawings and samples close by.

The first weeks surprised us. Visitors stay longer than we expected, and they go quiet in the second room, where one small lamp turns a plain wall into weather. Makers come to study the joints. Architects arrive with tape measures and photographs of ceilings. A child spent twenty minutes turning a dimmer up and down, which is the most honest review a lamp can receive.

We spent years making light in a room nobody ever saw. Now the room is part of the work.

— one of our makers, on the first morning the doors opened

Light is the material we really sell. Brass, glass, cable and the patience of our hands exist to hold it in place. Come and stand under it. Come at dusk, when the street outside dims and the room begins to speak.