The living room used to be lit by a grid: four recessed downlights, evenly spaced, switched as one. They did what grids do — illuminated the floor plan rather than the room, every corner equally, the way one lights a space for cleaning it. The experiment was almost accidental. One evening the overheads stayed off and a single lamp went on instead: a paper shade over a warm bulb, standing at reading height beside the sofa. The room reorganised itself around it within a minute.
What a single warm source does is create geography. There is now a bright place, a dim middle distance, and shadowed edges — and people arrange themselves accordingly, drifting toward the pool the way they drift toward a fire. Faces look better lit from the side at 2700 kelvin than from above at four thousand; so does timber, so does wool, so does everything a living room contains. The four downlights had been erasing exactly this, flattening the evening with the thoroughness of an office.
The practical translation is cheap. Before rewiring anything, buy one good lamp — generous shade, warm bulb, ideally a dimmer — and run a week with the ceiling switched off. Most rooms need two or three low sources at most, and many need fewer than they have. The grid can stay for cleaning nights and lost keys. But the room's real light, the light it is lived in by, wants to come from somewhere, not from everywhere.