Imagine a tranquil Japanese garden, its minimalism echoing in every element, from the soft rustle of bamboo leaves to the carefully placed stones. Now imagine that same garden butting up against a grand Italian piazza—majestic arches standing tall, shadows dancing across ornate colonnades, and an air of timeless romance lingering under an azure sky. This improbable intersection is precisely where Shigeaki Asahara's newest creation, the "Torino" reading lamp, was born—a place where Japan’s restrained elegance and Italy’s vivacious spirit come together to tell a unique story.
The lamp’s name, "Torino," is an ode to the Italian city of Turin—a place where history speaks through its architecture, and every street corner seems to hold a whispered secret. Much like a novelist who splits their time between the serenity of a mountain retreat and the bustling energy of a cosmopolitan city, Asahara's journey between Japan and Italy has crafted an inner dialogue of contrasting aesthetics. This dialogue has now taken the form of a lamp that gracefully merges technical precision with historical grandeur.
"Torino" is more than a mere light source; it’s a character in a story. Its arm moves like a dancer fluent in Butoh—slow, deliberate, purposeful. It bends and stretches with grace, embodying the art of Japanese minimalism, where even the slightest motion holds deep meaning.
The lamp's rotatable head is no less poetic; it sways gently, much like the nod of an attentive friend leaning in to listen to your thoughts as you lose yourself in a beloved novel.
Every mechanical element is considered, precise, the same way a Zen garden is meticulously raked to cultivate tranquility.
Yet, in its appearance, the "Torino" lamp takes on the spirit of Turin. Picture the grand Piazza Vittorio Veneto, where streets intersect like a painter's deliberate brushstrokes, creating a perfectly symmetrical canvas. The lamp stands tall, evoking the sense of those avenues and colonnades—a linear structure that seems both majestic and inviting. It possesses the kind of understated beauty that belongs to a bygone era, where craftsmanship mattered more than opulence and form carried the power to tell a story.
If anything, "Torino" is about options, like a Renaissance explorer seeking new horizons. Whether it stands firm on a sturdy base, perches on a desk with a tenacity that mirrors a climber clinging to a cliff, or elegantly hangs from a wall bracket like a portrait waiting to be unveiled, the lamp is adaptable. Each configuration is a reflection of the versatility needed for today’s life, a testament to the idea that good design doesn’t impose limitations—it invites participation. Its six finishes are like different shades of mood: a gleaming polished steel that feels like a nod to the future, or a bronzed warmth that evokes the golden sunsets over the Piazza Castello.
At the heart of "Torino" lies a delicate dance between light and shadow. It’s dimmable, allowing its glow to soften or brighten as the day demands, like the way an artist might adjust the lighting to find just the right inspiration. It’s a nod to the importance of nuance—light that shifts not just to illuminate, but to complement, to accompany.
Whether you’re diving into the quiet introspection of Japanese poetry or exploring the grandeur of an Italian sonnet, the light from "Torino" feels perfectly matched, guiding you through the labyrinth of words.
In many ways, "Torino" serves as a bridge between worlds. The bridge itself could be imagined as a gently arching one—a Japanese "taiko bashi," built to encourage reflection as one crosses from one bank to another. Or perhaps it's the type of bridge you'd find in Turin, the kind that spans a river, offering a view of both the past and the future, of hills that carry stories of centuries past, and of bustling roads that pulse with the energy of today. The lamp is the embodiment of that connection—it carries the essence of two lands, two cultures, and invites us to witness their beauty together.
So, when you sit beneath the glow of "Torino," you are not merely using a lamp. You are engaging with a story, a fusion, a testament to how beauty is born when different worlds collide. In its gentle light, you can hear the whispers of two different histories—of samurai precision and Roman arches, of minimalism and grandeur. And as you turn the page of your book, the "Torino" stands ready, illuminating each word, reminding you that true elegance lies not just in the light, but in the shadows it casts.
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Words by AW.
Photos courtesy of Stilnovo.
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