Light as the brief

Milan, 2014. A town house of tall rooms and one generous facade, where light arrived strongly at the front and died somewhere near the stair. The people who live there asked us for very little: fewer fixtures, more light, and nothing that announced itself.

We answered with pieces from six of our families. In the entrance hall, Wireform spheres of hand-woven aluminium sit low on rough iron bases, and their open weave lets light run sideways across the stone floor. The double-height living room carries a loose cluster of Stella Moon forms, half moon and half halo, drawing slow arcs on the plaster. Nacre shells mark the staircase, one at each landing, so the climb is measured in small warm pools.

The quieter work belongs to Ledram, whose flat discs wash the study and the long corridor without a visible source. Jacqueline stands beside the reading chair, a single stem and a shade turned by hand. And where the house wanted depth rather than white, the dining room and the inner hall, Golden Lights gives the walls a slow amber, the colour of late afternoon held in place.

No room here is bright. The house is lit the way a face is lit, from several heights, from several directions, none of them obvious. Corners stay dark, so the rooms read larger, and the plaster keeps its grain instead of flattening under a wash. The arrangement has not changed since we finished. That is the measure we trust.