The “color” of lighting that illuminates a room can be broadly categorized: there’s the cool, blue-tinted “daylight white” suitable for studying and reading; “natural white,” which mimics midday sunlight; and the orange-hued “warm white,” reminiscent of an incandescent bulb or a bonfire. For many years, my private studio and study was filled with the light of “natural white.”
There was no profound intention behind this choice. At the time, I was moving and embarking on a new chapter in my life. I simply chose it based on the vague idea of “spending my time under an active light, just like in the daytime.” I saw that color as a symbol of a fresh start, like beginning to move under the sun at the start of a new season.
However, contrary to its brightness, a sense of discomfort—one that never quite rose to the level of conscious thought—may have been slowly accumulating over the long years. Unconsciously, I might have been experiencing a lack of focus, chronic mental and physical fatigue, and a subsequent impact on my mental well-being. Perhaps even a vague sense of anxiety was hovering over me.
Then, one day, as if a message from my subconscious had arrived, a scene from a room I used to live in flashed through my mind. The light that shone there was of a gentle, warm white hue—the complete opposite of the natural white I had. It was a tranquil scene, where a faint orange warmth seeped into the darkness of the night. The color of a bonfire, the color of a candle. It was a light that humanity has been familiar with since ancient times, symbolizing the security and introspection of the night.
As if to confirm something, I removed my current natural white fixture and replaced it with a warm white one. In that instant, the atmosphere of the room completely changed. I felt that not only the physical space but also my own inner world was returning to its “original place” just by changing the color of the light. It was as if scattered fragments of my mind were being drawn together by a magnet, bringing the contours of my thoughts from that time back into focus. I literally felt that I had rediscovered myself—”calm and focused within my own nest.”
This experience brought to mind a sort of dualism. The natural white light symbolizes what I would call “solar creation.” It radiates energy outward and excels at constructing objective logic and structure. The “tension” and “outward energy” brought by this light might be suitable for tasks that require meticulous design and the pursuit of complex theories. This could also be linked to an attitude of trying to position one’s work within the context of external evaluation and relationships with others.
On the other hand, the orange glow of the warm white light symbolizes creation by “night,” or to contrast it with the sun, “lunar creation.” This light encourages “deep contemplation and awakening,” a process of detaching oneself from external information and noise to delve deep into one’s inner world. And now, I strongly feel that much of my creative work has been nurtured under this “moon.”
The keywords “solitude” and “introspection” have always held a central and crucial place in my creative process and my thoughts on music. I now realize this may have been determined not only by a psychological tendency but also by the physical environment—specifically, the color of the light. The time spent conversing with inner memories and emotions, relying on the warm white light in the darkness of the night, can be described as a solemn and tranquil stage setting for facing oneself, liberated from the clamor of the world and the gaze of others.
This recent event made me realize once again that what was truly important and necessary for me was not the “outward energy and tension of the sun,” but rather the “deep contemplation and awakening of the moon.” “Reflecting on one’s creative work and returning to one’s origins” is not merely about retracing past techniques and methods. I feel it can also be achieved through a journey of rediscovering the color of the light that nurtured you and the inner landscapes it awakens.
