No single design decision shapes the feel of a room more than how natural light enters it. We consider daylighting from the very first sketch.
My work in stained glass gave me an education in light that no building science course could replicate. When you cut and lead glass by hand, you learn that colour is not a property of a surface — it is a property of light passing through or reflecting off that surface. Change the light and you change the colour. Change the angle and you change the mood. The same understanding belongs in every room I design.
Before we select a material or set a dimension, we ask: where does the sun rise on this site, where does it set, and how does it move across each season? North light is even and cool — the painter's light, consistent for work and concentration. South light is warm and dynamic, moving visibly across floors and walls through the day. East greets the morning; west closes the afternoon. Each has its role.
We model sun angles and shadow conditions for every project at its specific latitude. This is not academic — it determines window placement, overhang depth, interior wall positions, and glass selection. A building that is designed around its daylight feels alive in a way that a building with arbitrarily placed windows simply does not.
Growing up between Missouri, Mexico, and Texas gave me an early sensitivity to how dramatically light changes with latitude and climate. The flat white light of a Midwest winter, the intense overhead sun of a Mexican afternoon, the long golden hour of a Texas evening — these are different materials entirely, and they require different architectural responses.