A house in Bangkok, built around a courtyard. The rooms turn inward, toward water and leaves, and the light had to do the same: low, warm, never louder than the garden it looks onto. We were asked to keep the architecture quiet and let the evening arrive slowly.

Light that follows the courtyard

Along the covered walk the Ledram discs sit flat against the plaster, small copper-ringed circles that read first as marks on the wall and only then as lamps. In the double-height living room the Light Stick lines hang in one row above the long table, a single stroke of indirect light dimmed down to the level of a candle after dinner.

The Golden Lights gather where the ceiling drops and the room turns intimate; their hand-finished surfaces take the green of the courtyard and give it back warmer. Upstairs the Simile forms keep the bedrooms spare. Reflected light, no glare, nothing to look at directly.

Four families of light, one temperature, one house. The courtyard stays the centre. The lamps only tell you when the day has ended.