In a workshop in Bali, the work begins before the day heats up. Raw rattan arrives in coils lengths of it, pale and pliable and by the time Indra has finished with them, they will have become the precise geometric skeleton of a Lumiere shade. He has been doing this work for years. The knowledge lives in his hands as much as in his mind, and the evidence is in every frame he produces: true, considered, made to last. We sat with Indra to understand what it means to practice a craft at this level and what a handmade linen pendant light actually requires of the people who build it.
Tell us about how you came to this work. How did you learn to work with rattan?
I grew up around it. In Bali, rattan is everywhere. In the furniture, in the baskets, in the architecture. My family worked with natural materials. I learned by watching, then by doing. You cannot learn rattan from instruction alone. The material teaches you. It tells you how much it will bend and how much it will not. You have to listen to it.
What does a day in the workshop look like?
We start early, when the air is still cool. The rattan is easier to work in the morning. I begin by checking the material, looking for any lengths that are not consistent, setting those aside. Then the frame work begins. Every shade has its own jig, a form we built by hand from timber. The rattan goes around that form, rib by rib. It takes time. You cannot rush it without the frame losing its shape.
The rattan frames you build are the structure beneath the linen. Most people never see them. Does that matter to you?
The frame is the most important part. If the frame is not right, nothing else will be right. The linen follows the form exactly. Every curve, every rib. A frame that is off by even a small amount, you will see it in the finished shade. You may not know what you are seeing, but you will feel that something is not quite right. So the frame must be perfect. Whether anyone sees it or not is beside the point.
The taped fingers, we notice them across many of the photographs. Can you tell us about that?
It is protection. The work is repetitive and the rattan and linen create friction. After a long day, without the tape, the fingers suffer. It is a small thing, but it tells you something about the nature of this work. It is physical. It is daily. You learn to take care of your hands because your hands are your tools.
When the linen comes, how does that part of the process feel different to the frame work?
The rattan is structural work. Precise, but also strong. The linen is something else. It is more sensitive. You have to feel whether the tension is even across the whole surface. Too much in one place and it pulls. Too little and it will not hold its shape over time. There is a point where the linen settles correctly over the frame and you know it. You feel it with your hands before you see it with your eyes.
What is the most difficult part of the process?
The most difficult part is consistency. Each shade must feel the same as the last one and the one before that. When you are making something for a customer's home, they are trusting that what arrives is exactly what was promised. Maintaining that standard across every shade, every day, is the discipline of this work. Some days it comes easily. Other days you make a shade three times before it is right.
Bali has a long tradition of working with natural materials, rattan, bamboo, linen. Do you feel connected to that history?
Of course. This is not new knowledge. My grandfather worked with natural materials. His father before him. When I work with rattan, I am doing something that has been done here for a very long time, in a very particular way. Lumiere comes to us with a design, a form, a standard. But the knowledge of how to bring that form to life, that is Balinese. It has always been here.
What do you hope someone feels when they turn on a Lumiere shade in their home?
I hope they feel that it is alive. Linen in light is not like glass or plastic. It breathes. The light through it is warm, not harsh. I hope they feel that something made this. That there were hands involved. A room with a handmade light feels different to a room without one. I believe that, even if most people cannot explain why.
Finally, what does craft mean to you?
Craft means knowing your material so well that the material trusts you. It means not forcing something into a shape it does not want to take. It means patience, real patience, not just the idea of it. And it means that when you finish a piece and it is right, you know it. There is a particular satisfaction in that. It does not get smaller over time.
Lumière Shades are handcrafted in Bali by a small team of artisan makers. Each shade is made to order and ships worldwide.
Explore the collection and trade programme at www.lumiereshades.com