Why light and shade are the overlooked foundation of human-centred architecture

As an architect and designer, I have always been interested in how our relationship with the natural world contributes to our wellbeing, exploring and seeking to understand how and why it impacts the human spirit and psyche.

As an integral element of our environment, the importance of light in the pursuit of enriching and enduring architecture is well understood, yet when the subject arises in design dialogues the natural solution is almost always ‘more.’ There is no doubt light is both wonderful and crucial, but so is shade. Balance is the key – and the real magic lies at the threshold of both.

I was fortunate enough to have spent some of my formative years in a very modest and natural setting, living in the countryside without electricity at home. For a period of four years as a child, evenings were spent relying on candlelight, collecting firewood in a forest at dusk and cooking on an open fire. Although unaware of my good fortune at the time, looking back I can see how my relationship with time, space, light and shade were shaped by this period in my youth.

Understanding light, shade and over-illumination

Each day, we are still learning more about all the ways our bodies are connected to light. As human beings, we even emit light ourselves, at an ultra-low level, right up until the moment of death.

Light helps to tune our circadian rhythm – our ‘inner clock’ – by triggering melatonin at night and cortisol in the morning, maintaining our hormonal balance. When we interfere with our relationship to the natural rhythms of light, we negatively disrupt the internal biological process, increasing stress and reducing immune system function.

Complex red and infrared light wavelengths, experienced most at sunrise and sunset, also activate our stem cells, promoting growth, healing and cell optimisation. It is no mere coincidence that we are attracted to the beauty of these daily moments – photon cellular communication as a phenomena has been instrumental to human evolutionary success, just as it has been to the success of most living species on the planet.

There are countless studies which reveal the damage of light pollution to animal health. Everything from sleep health, hormone imbalance, migration disruption, infertility and genetic disorders have been identified in animals that are exposed to environments where light pollution has overtly interfered with natural darkness. It surely goes without saying that we, as part of the complete working ecosystem of the natural world, are also being affected by the over-illumination of our evening and night-time hours.

Remember that the first practical electric light was invented in the 19th century, meaning that electric lighting has only existed for less than 1% of human existence. Only in an even smaller portion of that time have we come to accept the extremely high lumen levels we experience today as normal.

Painting with light: designing with light and shade

We perceive our man-made and natural three-dimensional world through shifting gradients of light and dark, which brings the form of our buildings to life. If we strip back the many layers of a designed space, we are left simply with a volume, light and shade. It is at this point that we are able to truly understand the soul and essence of a space that has been designed.

When we consider lighting in the design process, we have two unique scenarios: day and night. During the day, our designs can manipulate, filter, direct and redirect the natural light. At night-time, we introduce artificial light, which we create and control.

Consider a sun-drenched space with dappled shadows dancing across a wall, the warmth and comfort of a dimly lit room with an element of softly diffused light, or a skylight lined with gold paint, hidden from view, that bounces a golden glow only at certain parts of the day. When a room is not afforded an orientation benefitting from direct sunlight, then a perfectly placed tree or built element outside a south-facing window can provide indirect connection to the sun as it moves throughout the day.

Introduced lighting is a powerful tool on the architectural palette, allowing for the creation of micro environments – a choreographed moment – within the macro, without the need for actual physical divisions. Imagine a dimly lit lamp beside a reading chair in the corner of a dark room, a chair by a window bathed in winter sun whilst the remainder of the room rests in shade. Or imagine your favourite restaurant, where single table lamps form the only lighting in an otherwise darkened room. Here, light and shade reveals its ability to delineate individual spaces so intimate that it is as if there is a wall between you and the table next to you. The threshold of your unique sphere of light creates a perceived barrier to your stories, secrets and declarations.

Like a great Rembrandt painting or a classic cinematic masterpiece, as architects we too paint with light. In the nuanced interplay of light and dark, we can find not only healthier lives, but also nostalgia, romance, refuge, intimacy and a sense of play and theatre.

Recalibrating our age-old connection with light and shade

We know that architecture has the power to inspire and impress, but it also has the power to renew, nourish and caress our soul – in short, to heal. Yet after millennia spent gathered around the campfire or by the light of a flickering candle, have we now forgotten the benefits of living both with and without light?

I believe that learning how to optimise light and shade, and importantly re-learning how to live with less introduced light in our night-time environments, is key to our health and wellbeing. Architecture that is truly human-centred must deeply consider how and why light has such a profound influence on our health and wellbeing.

If we are to create architecture that contributes to a holistic sense of wellbeing – both physically and mentally – then we must minimise disruptions and fully embrace light’s shifting qualities, allowing our spaces to evolve throughout the day and thereby deepening our connection to the natural environment. Recalibrating our understanding of light is not about invention, but about remembering what we have always innately understood.