On the West Bund the river does most of the talking during the day. Our brief for this garden was the opposite one: what becomes of the planting after the light goes. Beds of grasses, a stand of bamboo, a low stone wall that keeps the day's warmth — all of it had to stay legible after dark without being lit like a stage.

We kept the light low and slow. The Medusa Outdoor spheres sit in the grass as though they had washed up there, each one a small volume of glow with no visible source. Along the path the More Outdoor pieces lay a wide, soft pool on the ground, enough for a foot to find the next stone. In the trees the Sypha Outdoor hang from the branches and move with them, so the light never holds still for long.

Light as a shape of the garden

Everything was placed to leave dark in the composition. Where the garden is bright, the planting reads in silhouette; where it is dark, the eye travels out to the water. Visitors slow down without being asked to. That is the whole of it for us outdoors: the lamps disappear and the space keeps its own hours.

A garden, once the sun has gone. Light where it was needed. Nothing more.