For years our lamps lived under ceilings — in halls, over tables, beside beds. Then one evening in early spring someone in the workshop carried a finished piece out into the courtyard, and the question changed: what would our light do under an open sky? This collection is the answer. Lamps made for gardens, terraces, porticos, and the long blue hour between dinner and dark.

Form that behaves in wind and rain

Outdoors, light has no walls to lean on. So we pared the forms down: low, weighted bodies that sit still in a breeze; shades that keep the beam close to the ground, where it is useful and where it does no harm to the eyes or to the night. Every piece was shaped around a simple promise.

• Glare kept below the sightline — you see the garden, never the bulb.
• Warm light at low output: enough for a step, a table, a face.
• Sealed joints and drained surfaces, so weather passes over them without settling in.

Materials chosen to age honestly

The metals here were chosen for how they will look in ten years, not on the first day. Solid brass and copper go where hands will touch them, and we let the weather write on them. Finishes are applied by hand, in the same rooms where our indoor pieces are born, and they carry the small irregularities of the workshop. Glass is thick, gaskets are seated one at a time, and every drain path was shaped so that rain finds its way out. The collection carries what we have believed since our founding — a lamp should be made like furniture, never like an appliance — into the least forgiving room of all.

We did not make these lamps to hold back the dark. We made them to keep the garden company while the evening lasts. Outdoors, light is only ever a guest. The good ones know when to leave.