I lived for a year in a basement apartment with roommates who, despite our subterranean situation, were always switching off the lights. They hated overhead lighting, they explained, and yet no one was willing to invest in even the cheapest floor lamps. I was, for my part, unwilling to fund this improvement on my own, so we dwelled together in an atmosphere of perpetual gloominess, no matter how abundant the sunshine outdoors. As fall turned to winter, one roommate slid into a depression. While several factors were probably involved, it occurred to the rest of us that lack of light could have been a significant one.
Light—or more precisely, the desire for it—is on many minds this time of year as we plod through increasing post-daylight-savings-time darkness toward the solstice. It’s well known that poor lighting strains the eyes, produces fatigue and irritability, and that, in fact, it can be a drag on people’s moods, not to mention their productivity. So why, despite all the studies, are badly lit rooms the norm? Why all the glaring sodium lights, buzzing fluorescent tubes, gloomy corners, and harshly overlit expanses?
Lighting in the workplace gets a fair amount of attention, probably because of concerns about safety and productivity. But residential lighting is another story. Consider that for the next five months or so, free time for people with day jobs will occur mostly after sunset. Leaving the office in the dark, they will return to dark homes that they artificially illuminate—how?
Through purely personal observations, many conducted during a solid year of house hunting, I have identified three types of abhorrent domestic lighting practices. If they were outlawed, I wouldn’t be surprised if the psychological state of our union saw an instant improvement. First and foremost is the low-hanging fixture, common to dining rooms, that has one or more lamps cast downward and shades that expose bare bulbs to diners’ eyes. The resulting atmosphere is more conducive to interrogation than to civil or scintillating conversation. Many so-called vanity bars in bathrooms produce a similar effect: glaring light that rakes down over the face and body, doing no one’s self-image any favors. As for the living room—here, at least, my erstwhile roommates were right not to tolerate overhead lights. Yet stuck to the ceiling like primordial insects, and ruining many otherwise pleasant living rooms (bedrooms, too), are those ungainly ceiling-fans-with-light-fixtures—many of which also have multiple glass- or metal-shaded downlights.
Not that downlights don’t have a purpose. It’s their misuse that’s the problem, and this points to a broader observation: In most homes, lighting is an afterthought. This seems strange, given the vast home-improvement industry developed over the last couple decades, with its attendant TV programming and proliferation of shelter publications. Why don’t we see lighting featured in more magazine articles or addressed in televised home makeovers, “extreme” or otherwise?
Compare lighting to color. Both can drastically alter the mood of a space, not to mention the perception of its size. Using both to their best advantage also involves quite a bit more than merely selecting a pleasing paint swatch or lamp. Good lighting involves balancing and combining sources; considering glare, shadow, and the color of light; planning for different purposes; and so on. There’s decorative lighting, which becomes part of the overall aesthetic of a room; accent lighting, for specific objects or spaces; ambient lighting, for overall illumination; and task lighting. Then there are the numerous fixtures for each lighting type: table lamps, chandeliers, cove lighting, pendants, and tracks, to name just a few.
Using color effectively is no less complicated than selecting the right lighting, and yet this element of décor has been popularized and made to seem quite doable. Take a look, for instance, at the paint department at any Home Depot, which is outfitted with all manner of touch-screen computer displays, videos, books, CD-ROMs, and even design services. Then compare these resources to what’s available over in the lighting department.
Granted, some improvements in the domestic-lighting sector would have to come from changes in the home-building industry—in how homes are designed, wired, and outfitted from the start. But until that happens, the home-improvement industry could exert a lot of influence. It’s not so much a matter of popularizing lighting, but rather encouraging people to stop taking it for granted. Ultimately, lighting that’s not just adequate, but that actually makes you feel good, should become as desirable (and obtainable) as a faux-stainless steel fridge.
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