A restaurant on a Danish harbour lives by the water twice over: the grey daylight coming in past the masts, and the small warm light that has to answer it once the sun drops. The room asked for both. Daylight belongs to the tables near the glazing. After dark the light has to come down low, close to the plates and the faces, so that the harbour outside turns to a black mirror and the room turns inward.

What we hung there

We worked with the Wireform pieces, because a woven sphere does what a solid shade cannot: it keeps the bulb inside a body of metal thread and lets the light out in every direction at once, softly broken. The Sunray Chandeliers go over the long tables in low clusters, making a ceiling out of light without closing the room in. On the smaller tables the Wanderer S and the Sunray stand as single points. A table lamp is the shortest way to give two people their own room inside a larger one.

Out on the terrace, where the wind comes straight off the water, the Wanderer XXL (outdoor) holds the far end on its rough iron stem — a metre of woven aluminium glowing against the dark. It gives the terrace a centre once the water goes black, and the rough iron takes the salt better than anything polished would.

Every sphere is hand-woven in our workshop, one wire at a time. Nothing here is bright. That was the point. A harbour at night needs a few small suns, and a great deal of shadow to set them in.