Tuesday, September 1, 2009

The light in my life: Healthy or not, here it comes...

Mira Eng-Goetz
IAR 311
September 1, 2009


The light in my life: Healthy or not, here it comes…

I can recall the first and only time I saw the aurora borealis. It was the summer of ’89 and I was visiting my aunt and uncle in Alaska. Surreal and haunting, that green glow stays with me and I am reminded of the extreme emotions light can invoke. At the time, I was 9 and the pure elation of a summer without darkness kept me in overdrive—how wonderful it was to run around the woods with my cousins into the evening! I was as energetic as the Alaskan wildflowers, taking full advantage of the precious northern sunlight. It was that same summer that I came to know about my aunt’s struggle with seasonal affective disorder and the light therapy that offered hope for her condition.  Now after many Alaskan summers, it’s still difficult to follow my biological clock during those periods of endless daylight and it’s near impossible trying to imagine the dark Alaskan winters that my relatives talk about. Depression and sleep disorder seem as likely as holiday weight gain when darkness consumes most of the day. My aunt lives in Seattle now.

On the opposite side of the earth under very different conditions, I can recall another profound experience with light. Lying on the sand of the Sahara desert, witnessing a meteor shower from one of the least light polluted places in the world. For two years, I lived according to circadian and circannual rhythms—always looking to the sky for a sense of what I should be doing. I stayed in a Saharan village with no electricity and this is where I learned how to rise with the sun, seek shelter in the middle of the day and socialize with the moonrise. Never before had I experienced such a sound and healthy rhythm of sleep and wakefulness.  Careful tracking of the sun’s movement and corresponding shadows kept me safe from heat stroke and long veils protected my skin from harmful UV rays. During the hot days, all activities took place under canvas tents or thatched hangars with adjustable sides for cross ventilation and in the cool evenings, sleep was pleasant within the warm protective walls of adobe shelters. Moonlight and firelight served to illuminate the evening’s social activities and familiar paths were navigated in near total darkness (depending on the moon).

Moving now to a higher latitude while staying on roughly the same longitude, I can recall a time away from the sun. Known for its overcast skies and temperate weather, England was an indoor experience in electrical lighting. I worked at a trendy sushi restaurant where the ambiance was sleek and sensual. Halogen pendants hung from a black ceiling over a black floor to provide small spots over black tables, or in my case at the sushi bar—a black work surface. Working 15-hour shifts with sharp knives under inadequate lighting was a stressful challenge to say the least. Heart palpitations, anxiety and headaches regularly plagued my working life and to make matters worse, the heat from the halogen bulbs tainted the raw fish I was serving.
During a typical day shift, my exposure to sunlight was minimal due to the building’s placement within a small plaza surrounded by taller buildings and substantial eaves along each of the restaurant’s facades. The dark interior surfacing seemed to absorb what little sunlight made its way into the space and the aforementioned halogens--however bright--were sparse and poorly placed.


I’ve chosen to share these personal stories because they speak towards the profound and diverse relationships we all have with natural and electrical lighting. I believe it is important to draw upon our experiences as we analyze the health issues directly linked to lighting design.

The affect of light on our physical, behavioral and mental health is an important design concern, which has been long over looked in favor of profit and misconceived notions of health. Chronobiology and the dedication of researchers like Charles Darwin and Franz Halberg give us the power to make the informed decisions required for healthier design—but it is important to remember that design works best when socio-economic and political issues are addressed as well. This holistic approach will allow us to pursue healthy sustainable built environments and to question our existing living and lighting standards.

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