Why bother?

People often ask me why I design lighting. They also ask me why I made a web page about it. I will tackle the latter question first, it's much easier that way.

Why did I create a web page? First of all, on Memorial Day Weekend, 1996, I had nothing better to do. Secondly, it was my fervent wish that this page would not only illuminate, but also that it would amuse, frustrate, challenge, and occasionally reward the reader. The cynical among you may have perceived by now, that this is an excellent way to market myself to potential employers. Well, if it works out that way, I won't complain.

The other issue is much more complex. The simplest way to describe it is that I love doing it. Then the next layer deeper would be to look at it historically. I grew up in the business, and as a child I was hanging around backstage and in lighting booths all the time, but never thought of it as a career direction until I rediscovered it in college. There I was heading into physics and taking a solitary Intro to Theatre course as an elective, and I got bitten by the bug again. Somehow that time around, I saw before me the many nuances that made up Lighting Design:

If that doesn't explain why I do it, look at it this way. I like being constantly challenged by new problems, working with new teams of people, travelling sometimes to interesting places to do what I do. And I humbly submit that I do it well. About what else can I say all those things?

Here's a little more about why I do it.
Sedimentary, My Dear Watson

Rocks are prolific in nature. It's hard to think of a natural environment where they aren't. Sometimes they are beautiful, or ugly, or often nondescript but the differences between two similar ones are insignificant to any but a trained geologist. In fact, you seldom expect such rocks to signify anything, unless they have been manipulated or altered by human intervention. Then they may become jewelry, or a marker pylon, or sculpture, but only because of artificial attention. But if you dress it up and take it inside, a very ordinary and unadulterated rock can become a pet. It's all about packaging and context. As a result it might seem to take on new significance, which is typically unrelated to its geological makeup. Moreover, this heretofore common piece of stone is now intrinsically valuable.

Pygmy Lumen or My Fair Lighting.

Virtually by definition, natural light pervades the outdoors. At least during daytime, you find it everywhere but in a cave or fathoms below the sea. And wherever civilization is found, artificial light comes with it, not all the time, but in predictable cycles at least. That light may have some associated cost, and many associated meanings to an anthropologist, but it's still very often a neutral thing. Its function defines it's form, and nobody gives much thought to it once the setup is complete; it just is. You walk in and out of it, turn it off or on as needed, but seldom design it to be other than what it is. Then a lighting designer comes along, and says ordinary light isn't good enough. We'll dress it up in fancier clothes, teach it to speak with a proper accent and move the right way, and we'll have a whole new ball of wax. Imagine one of the earliest television crews going out to cover a Presidential address. As the need for increased lighting levels became an assumption, someone probably began to look at how to show off a public figure in the best light, literally. Let's assume this happened not with Kennedy, as the media seems to insinuate because he was so photogenic, but with his predecessor. I hear the words spoken by the original First Lighting Director played back in my head over and over again, like a Broadway Musical, "The light on Dwight comes mainly from the right!" And we've never looked back since. No more unquestioned existence, now we'll have rationalizations to explain every possible aspect of the light, and why we chose for it to be that way. We'll package it, and develop a distribution channel for it, to meet the ever-rising demand for both quality and quantity. Most importantly, we'll give it its own SIGNIFICANCE. The mere act of defining our intentions makes it so. Let's look again at what just happened there. What services have we actually provided to justify OUR existence? Perhaps there wouldn't have been enough light to see by, so we provide visibility. In some cases we provide mood enhancement, or help to tell a story, thereby personalizing an otherwise sterile phenomenon. We may even give the light a dynamic progression from one state to another, by manipulating over time one or many different aspects of how it looks, where it comes from, what color, texture, or amount of it is provided. With all those added layers of meaning, the light becomes a kind of character in an unfolding story, instead of just an inanimate object.
Conclusion

Remember that a pet rock is like any other rock, except to its owner. It's special because it's YOURS and you have invested a piece of yourself in giving it an identity. So light gains plasticity, becomes signifying, motivating, chronicling, and vital, when it's chosen instead of merely being found at random.
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Contact Info:

Jeremy Kumin
E-mail: jkumin@bway.net
FAX: (718) 875-3596
My ISP: bway.net

This was first published May 28, 1996. Last revision February 23, 1998.

This page and it's contents are ©1996 Jeremy Kumin. The various trademarks mentioned are the property of their respective owners, as common sense would indicate. Why are you reading this silly disclaimer anyway?