8 minute read
Simplify, Simplify
By David K. Warfel
The five promises of light can only be delivered when we have the right light in the right place at the right time.
It is time to wrap up my six-part Light Can Help Us series, and I am of course in a different place of thought than when I began this task nearly a year ago. As with every creative journey, the possibility of arriving at an unintended destination can be part of the fun, but only if we hold to the goal lightly and allow space for discovery. It should not be a surprise that I have a new and simpler language of light to propose after five articles focused on the promises of light, but I am reluctant to let go. I can trace the root cause of my reluctance back quite a few years (cue the sepia-toned 8mm clip).
In the fourth grade, when I was perhaps nine years old, our class spent an hour or two creating unique “sculptures.” We had an assortment of pre-cut blocks, glue, and paints and could assemble and finish the sculpture any way we chose. I had a blast. The time flew by, and I lost myself in the work. The finished sculpture was, I was certain, a veritable masterpiece, and I could not wait to show it to my parents.
Some forty years later, I prefer to think of myself as a mature adult capable of objective observation, not prone to falling instantly and completely in love with each new thing I create. Yet somewhere deep inside lives a nine-year old bursting with pride with each shiny new thing, each creative effort. I felt that way when I built my fourth-grade sculpture; I feel the same about the five promises of light. Ultimately, strict adherence to a particular creation may limit future solutions, some of which are likely to be better.
Nowhere is this idea as true as in our individual and collective languages of light. We still cling to task, ambient, and accent layers of light (or fancier terms like play of brilliants), even though the entire landscape of our profession has changed in such a short span of years. As I have said in previous articles, task, ambient, and accent layers can no better describe great lighting than 2x4s, rain screens, and book-matched marble slabs can describe great residential architecture. Our historic terminology does not even begin to address what is perhaps the most critical aspect of light – what our bodies need. Biology is not part of our standard language because our understanding of light and our bodies was, well, more than a little dim until the last twenty years.
The five promises of light are simply one way to help residential clients understand the real value of good lighting. Light can help them do better, know more, feel better, focus clearly, and change easily. We built an entire design process on these ideas and have been quite successful, but that is no reason to stop innovating. So I am hard at work on the next language of light. It is, I hope, far simpler and easier to grasp than the five promises. When it comes to residential clients with limited time to devote to understanding lighting, simpler is better.
To achieve all five promises, we need the right light in each of four zones: the comfort zone, the work zone, the safety zone, and the glare-free zone. Value is embedded in the name of each zone – what client does not value comfort or safety?
THE COMFORT ZONE
When we surround ourselves with nature, our near field of vision and foveal vision (in essence what we “see” ahead of us in resting seated or standing positions) is filled with scenery like trees, mountains, plains, oceans, and lakes. During the day, sunlight and sky-light bounce off all of these things and allow us to see while filling our eyes with soft reflected light. You could think of this portion of our vision as the Comfort Zone, where soft light is needed for us to feel comfortable and to comfortably perceive. Bright spotlights pointed directly at someone’s face, instead of bounced off trees outside or walls inside, are simply not comfortable.
THE WORK ZONE
If I tilt my head downwards to see my keyboard, my near field of vision moves so that I can see the keys clearly. This area, where vision and hands overlap, could be called the Work Zone and needs different levels of illumination based on task. Ideally, light here would be strong, shadow free, and glare free, which is most easily achieved by light that comes from below our eyes and is directed towards where our hands work. Undercabinet lighting in kitchens is a perfect example of a work zone better illuminated than the typical recessed-downlight behind-you approach.
THE SAFETY ZONE
No one enjoys stumbling in the dark, but we do not need very much light to see where we are going if our eyes are properly adjusted and glare is minimized. Down where our feet tread I like to call the Safety Zone. Most homes have light in the Safety Zone by accident or by overkill, like a kitchen with nine downlights over the walkway and zero over the countertops. If we want to protect occupants sleep, light that emanates from below our waistlines and is softly pointed downwards can provide the right amount of light, where needed. If we leave off the more energy-intensive overhead lights for a few more hours each night, purposeful lighting in this zone can also reduce our energy usage.
THE GLARE-FREE ZONE
The final zone is directly above us in our peripheral vision and reaches the segment of our retinas with densely packed rod cells that allow us to perceive tiny changes in light (which indicate movement). We are sensitive to glare in every direction, but most subjected to it from above. It is common for us to see a ceiling with a solid grid of recessed downlights overpowering the room and filling our eyes, often subconsciously, with discomfort. We try to minimize overhead downlights, instead pushing them to the perimeter and bouncing light off vertical surfaces like cabinets, art, and wall finishes. Yes, sometimes a light directly overhead is the best solution, like above a kitchen island, but most spaces will be better served when we minimize point sources aimed at our heads.
Our red velvet cake analogy (lighting should be in layers…) broke us out of the task-ambient-accent box, and the response of residential clients to our five promises of light was a key part of our secret recipe for success. That language of light is still relevant and functional, but most of our clients do not want a lecture on lighting theory. I am also a tinkerer with a short attention span, so I keep rewriting my language of light into something I hope will be simpler, easier, and more impactful for homeowners and clients. It is easier to demonstrate the Zone theory outlined above with images and diagrams, and easier for clients to understand.
I will end as I began, encouraging you to reconsider the words you use when you talk about light with your clients. I share my own attempts at a new language of light not to win followers or converts, but simply to demonstrate that it can be done. My fourth-grade ego would love it if you adopted my five promises of light or zone theory so I can run home and tell my mom, but my adult self simply wants to help others find their own language of light.
Is the language of light you use with your clients helping them understand the real value, the true potential of light in their lives? Do you believe that light can help them live better? If so, what is the right light? What is the right place and the right time for it? For a moment, set aside task, ambient, and accent layers of light and dream up something better.
