Some buildings you simply visit. Others seem to visit you, shaping your thoughts, slowing your pace, and leaving an imprint that lasts long after you’ve gone.

In mid-July, while driving from London to Marseille, I had the pleasure of staying one night at Sainte Marie de la Tourette, a monastery near Lyon and the final building designed by Le Corbusier.

What struck me most was how light becomes an active participant in the architecture. It doesn’t simply illuminate; it moves freely, sliding across walls and floors, inviting you to follow.

The building uses undulating glass panes to control the light entering its large public spaces and long corridors, creating a rhythm of shadow and brightness that changes throughout the day.

With so little else competing, mind settles. Focus arrives. Attention deepens.

It’s a powerful reminder that inspiration doesn’t require abundance; the minimum, handled precisely, is enough.

Do you rearrange your space to think better, or let the space arrange you?

I’m exploring how studio layout affects error rate and flow.
If you have any tips, I’d love to compare notes.

P.S. The last picture shows my favourite architectural detail: the “sugar cubes.” They are everywhere. They serve no structural purpose; they’re there to frame the view, compelling you to focus more intently on what’s in front of you. Genius.