No matter what may be drawing you to this luminaire, let it be a reminder. This might sit, perched upon your entryway table or dresser as a mere object of beauty. If this is the case, I encourage you to look at the light a little closer, explore its undulations, its soft, consistent glow. Let it serve as a reminder that the face of those who may appear anchored, grinning ear to ear, is not always the face value reflection of what lies beneath. Check in with them.


For those looking for something more than singular beauty from this fixture, my hope is that this can serve as a small and gentle act of salvation. When I imagine the descent of a drowning soul, I imagine this light: a soft, warm, hazy glow—imperfect, borderless. As I write this, next to the glow of my own model, I see my soul. As if I reached down into that descent and pulled, slowly, until gasping for air, it breached the surface. What you now find is that soul: wet, tired, cold, perched atop a pedestal of chrome. Not a strong beam, but a dim, consistent glow of someone still holding on. I implore you, find your own soul in its curves, its ethereal glow, its consistency. Let it remind you that a dim light is still a light.

Caleb