St. Moritz sits high in the Engadin, where winter light arrives low and leaves early. This lodge is built of old larch, stone and wool, and the brief was simple: the lamps must never compete with the mountain outside the window. In rooms like these, light has to behave. It has to warm the timber without turning it orange, and it has to stay quiet while the fire is doing the talking.

Discs on the wall, one line over the table

We chose the Ledram family for most of the house. The flat wall discs sit close to the panelling and throw a soft crescent across it, so a corridor reads as a sequence of small moons rather than a row of fittings. In the dining room, two curved discs hang in a single line above the table, drawing the light into one continuous stroke. Nothing dangles, nothing glitters. The aluminium is hand-finished in copper, and against the dark wood it reads as part of the room.

The bedroom and the reading corner took smaller pieces: a slim disc on a slender rod for the bedside, sending warm light straight down onto the page. On the shelves and along the stone ledge we placed a few objects from our Heirloom collection — the kind of thing you notice in the evening and forget by morning, which is exactly the point.

A mountain house is mostly about the dark. What we did here was make the dark comfortable: low levels, warm colour, no glare, no reflection in the glass when the snow turns bright. The lodge holds its silence. The light keeps it company.