If paint determines how light is received, lighting determines how it is shaped.
While designing our home and studio, I quickly realized that artificial light carries as much influence as natural light — particularly in a coastal climate where winter evenings arrive early and grey days linger.
Lighting became less about fixtures and more about atmosphere.
I began to think in layers: task lighting for working, ambient lighting for softness, and subtle accent lighting to create depth. In the studio areas especially, clarity mattered. I needed illumination that would reveal texture honestly — neither flattening woven surfaces nor casting harsh, directional shadows.
Glass pendants, shaded sconces, and warm-toned bulbs all contribute differently to how a material reads. A slightly warmer temperature can soften a room; too cool, and fibre loses warmth. The placement of a single fixture can determine whether a wall feels dimensional or flat.
Winter played a role in our decisions. Living on Vancouver Island means embracing long stretches of subdued light. Incorporating ceiling lights and layered fixtures ensured the home would remain bright and workable even in the darker months. Consistency of tone between natural and artificial light became essential — particularly for photographing work during late afternoons or overcast days.
As with paint selection, I found myself thinking less like a homeowner and more like a maker. How would shadow fall across a woven surface? Would the light exaggerate contrast or gently reveal structure? Could a room transition seamlessly from daily living to studio documentation?
Lighting, ultimately, is about perception. It influences not only how a space feels, but how material is experienced.
Designing this home sharpened my awareness of illumination as a creative tool — one that now informs both how I construct fibre pieces and how I present them.
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