Case 005
the case files of new york art detective
Walter Lin P.I.
A Light in the Dark
The shed at the bottom of the garden was mine. It always had been, even when it wasn’t. Ten years ago, I claimed it—turned it into a studio, a space to work, to think, to let the world outside fade into static. But there was a problem. There always is. The lighting—a set of strip lights attached to a wooden beam that screamed ugly every time I looked at it. For a decade, I let it sit there, an eyesore I couldn’t quite bring myself to fix.
One of the reasons it sat so long? I didn’t know what I wanted. Not really. Lowering the ceiling would hide the beam, sure, but would it make the space too cramped? Would it ruin the balance I’d spent years trying to maintain? I didn’t have the answers, but eventually, I stopped asking. The beam had to go, and lowering the ceiling was the only way to do it.
A Difficult Choice
The next question was lighting. This wasn’t a quick decision—there were options, too many to count, and none of them screamed perfect. What I knew was this: I wanted LED ceiling lighting. Something bright, even, clean. Something that could make the space feel alive again. After weeks of deliberation, I landed on four 2-foot long 25-watt LED batons. Screwfix. Reliable. Simple enough.
Positioning them was another matter. I placed them as best I could—spread the light, tried to think practical. And the result? It’s not bad. Not really. The space is lit; the beam’s gone. But if I had another shot at it, I’d flip the layout, cut the wattage. There’s a glare above my left shoulder when I’m working at my desk, bright enough to make me squint. It’s not the kind of thing that ruins the work, but it’s there—nagging at the edges like a splinter you can’t quite pull.
Quiet Adjustments
The thing about spaces like this—studios, sheds, rooms you try to call your own—they’re never finished. You make adjustments. You fix what you can. You let the problems linger until you can’t anymore, and then you change them. It’s not perfect. It won’t ever be. But for now, the beam’s hidden, the light’s on, and the work goes on in spite of it all.
