For lighting a living space, several choices exist depending on the purpose. There is “Cool Daylight” (blue-white), ideal for reading or detailed work; “Natural White,” which mimics natural sunlight; and “Warm White,” which possesses an orange glow akin to a bonfire.
In my private studio and study, I had employed “Natural White” lighting for many years. There was no explicit intention behind this choice. It was simply a vague desire for a “fresh start” when I moved, opting to spend my time under an active light similar to daytime. I believe I accepted that bright light as a positive symbol, like stepping out under the sun at the beginning of a new season.
However, contrary to that visual brightness, a sense of discord—one that did not surface in my conscious mind—may have been accumulating over the years. An unconscious dissipation of focus, a chronic sense of fatigue and the resulting mental disharmony, or perhaps an unidentified restlessness may have been constantly hovering above me.
During such a time, a scene from a previous room suddenly flashed back into my mind. What glowed there was a gentle, warm light—the polar opposite of natural white. It was a tranquil scene where a faint warmth seeped into the darkness of night. That color, reminiscent of a bonfire or candlelight, can be called the light that symbolizes the “nocturnal rest” and “introspection” that humans have been familiar with since ancient times.
With a feeling of seeking confirmation, I replaced my existing lighting with warm white bulbs. In that instant, the atmosphere of the room was transformed. As the color of the light changed, I felt a sensation that not only the physical space but also my internal self was converging toward “where it ought to be.”
It was as if scattered fragments of my spirit were drawn together by a magnet, allowing the contours of my thoughts to emerge with clarity. It was an experience of rediscovering myself, quietly regaining focus within my own “nest.”
This experience brought me a kind of dualistic imagery. The “Natural White” light symbolizes what might be called creation by the “Sun.” It possesses a nature adept at radiating energy outward and constructing objective logic and structures. This light’s inherent “tension” and “alertness” may be suited for tasks that involve rigorous design or the pursuit of complex concepts. It aligns with an attitude of positioning one’s own work within external evaluations and relationships with others.
On the other hand, “Warm White” light symbolizes creation by the “Night,” or—to contrast it with the sun—creation by the “Moon.” This image encourages “contemplation,” pulling oneself away from external clamor to dive deep into the inner self. Looking back, I realize that much of my creative activity has been nurtured under the gravitational pull of this “Moon.”
Keywords such as “solitude” and “introspection” have always occupied a central position in my creative work and musical philosophy. This may have been defined not only by a mental tendency but also by the physical environment of light color. The time spent communing with inner memories and emotions by the light of warm white bulbs in the silence of the night is a solemn stage setting for releasing oneself from the public eye and facing only oneself.
This incident allowed me to realize once again that “contemplation and awakening by the Moon” was more important to me than “radiation and tension by the Sun.” “Reflecting on creation and returning to one’s roots” does not merely mean tracing past techniques or methods. It can also be achieved through a journey of rediscovering the color of the light that nurtured you, and the inner landscape that the light awakens.
