The cloister of a former monastery in Bergamo sits against the hill, and its stone keeps the cool long after the sun has gone. Arcades carry daylight in narrow bands across the floor; the vaulted rooms beyond hold shadow in their corners. The building lived for centuries on daylight and flame. Our task was to give the evening a shape of its own, without pressing on the stone.

Light that behaves like candlelight

We began low. Wireform spheres — the Wanderer S on the refectory tables, a Sunray in each reading alcove — stay close to the surfaces people actually use, so the glow remains at hand while the vaults above keep their dark. Over the long table in the east hall the Sunray Chandelier hangs in a loose cluster: hand-woven aluminium, lit from within, scattering light like small suns held in wire. Where a wall wanted marking rather than lighting, we set Nacre discs, their shell-soft faces returning what they receive a little more slowly than it arrived.

The courtyard asked for something that could weather. A Wanderer XXL stands on the lawn a metre wide, glowing from within on a rough iron stem. Medusa Outdoor and Sypha Outdoor trace the arcades and the path to the gate, with More Outdoor kept low by the steps, so the ground stays legible without ever being lit from above. Rain and frost take them; the light keeps its temper.

Nothing here announces itself. The monastery keeps its silence and the lamps keep the hours: a warm low glow where people gather, darkness left intact where the architecture wants it. Almost nothing added. Everything still visible.