Lighting the way for sustainable design

David Trubridge is not one for standing still.

Whether it’s finding his own path in seldom explored parts of the world, or reviewing the production processes of his internationally recognised lighting range, the English-born designer is, it would seem, in a constant state of movement.

That’s not to say he is always working.

For Trubridge, who has made his life in Aotearoa New Zealand, taking time to explore areas as diverse as Antarctica and Iceland through to Patagonia and remote parts of Australia, is about giving himself time just to be.

In Australia recently to celebrate the 20th anniversary of his emblematic Coral light at the Sydney Mondoluce store, as well as their affiliates in Brisbane and Hobart, he made time to take a hike through Tasmania.

“I need that ability to recharge,” he says. “I love to get right off the trail because when you stick to the path, there’s a safety factor where you know you will always find your way back.

“I want to find my own course, and see where it leads me. That’s my design philosophy too.”

Trubridge likes to take the road less travelled to mentall recharge.

Trubridge’s path to success is the stuff of legend. A self-taught designer and furniture maker, he studied naval design and had already enjoyed professional success on a small scale while living in the UK, initially creating pieces of furniture for his family and smaller clients before expanding to commissions for significant sites such the Victoria & Albert Museum and St Mary’s Cathedral In Edinburgh.

In the 1980s, Trubridge and his wife Linda decided to sell their house, buy a yacht and set sail with their two children, arriving in Aotearoa New Zealand in 1985. By 1988, he had exhibited at the National Furniture Exhibition at Auckland Museum.

As his opportunities expanded, the Trubridges sold their yacht in the early 1990s, using the money to fund building their own home — and a studio for David. Local interest in their house was such that Trubridge went on to design a number of homes in the area.

The Coral pendant propelled Trubridge’s work onto the international stage.

Designs for more furniture followed, notably, the Body Raft bench, which Trubridge took to the Milan Furniture Fair in 2000, where it was picked up by Italian design powerhouse Capellini.

Interested in the applications of plywood but, Trubridge turned his attention to lighting, resulting in the Coral design. Again, Trubridge made the trip to Milan in 2004, where it was warmly received — and an ‘overnight success’ story was born.

”I was a guy in a shed in the backyard when Capellini picked up the Body Raft bench,” he says. “The market for handmade furniture in New Zealand was very small and I was looking for a bigger market.”

Twenty years on, the Coral design has been joined by a range of biophilic pendant lights, including the Toru, the Navicula and the Kōura. All made from bamboo plywood and shipped out to clients in kit form to reduce the amount of packaging and space required, the lights are designed to be both sculptural and throw shadow patterns.

The Navicula pendant is inspired by microscopic diatoms, a type of plankton, that produce half the air we breathe.

While the lights are highly successful commercially, it’s evident that Trubridge continues to strive for improvement, particularly in terms of environmental impacts.

“The design process does not really change much for me,” he says. “It is more important for me where we source the materials,” he says. “A lot of the embodied energy you can’t recycle. I would like to source a new material that is of our land, that is compostable and recycled. I’ve been looking at New Zealand flax which is very fibrous, like hemp.”

In the meantime, he has eliminated almost all plastics from the production process in recent years and he is exploring energy efficient lighting options beyond LEDs. For every Toru light sold, $50 goes to Sustainable Coastlines, a New Zealand charity committed to keeping the country’s beaches clean and plastic free.

While there is still much work to be done in terms of sustainability, Trubridge is hopeful.

“There is an awful long way to go but the mood is there, I think. There will be some big changes,” he says.

“We are trying to achieve sustainability and we are working towards it. We are always trying to improve and do better. How can we supply the things that people need that have the least impact?”

Only time — and more work — will tell.

For decades, Australia has leaned into its reputation as the lucky country. But luck, as it turns out, is not an economic strategy.

What once looked like resilience now appears increasingly fragile. Beneath the surface of rising property values and steady headline growth, the Australian economy is showing signs of strain that can no longer be ignored.

Recent data paints a sobering picture. Australia has recorded one of the largest declines in real household disposable income per capita among advanced economies.

Wages have failed to keep pace with inflation, meaning many Australians are working harder for less. On a per capita basis, income growth has stalled and, at times, reversed.

And yet, on paper, things still look relatively solid. GDP is growing. Unemployment remains low. But that growth is increasingly being driven by population expansion rather than productivity.

More people are contributing to output, but not necessarily improving living standards.

That distinction matters.

For years, Australia’s economic success rested on a powerful combination: a once-in-a-generation mining boom, a credit-fuelled housing market, strong migration and a property sector that rarely faltered. Between 1991 and 2020, the country avoided recession entirely, building enormous wealth in the process.

But much of that wealth is tied to property. Around two-thirds of household wealth sits in real estate, inflated by leverage and sustained by demand. It has worked, until now.

The problem is the supply side of the economy has not kept up.

Housing supply is falling behind population growth. Rental vacancies are near record lows.

Construction firms are collapsing at an elevated rate. At the same time, massive infrastructure pipelines are competing with residential projects for labour and materials, pushing costs higher and delaying delivery.

The result is a system under pressure from all angles.

Despite near full employment, productivity growth has stagnated for years. In simple terms, Australians are putting in more hours without generating more output per hour. The economy is running faster, butgoing nowhere.

Meanwhile, government spending continues to expand. Public debt is approaching $1 trillion, with spending now accounting for a record share of GDP.

The gap between spending and revenue has been filled by borrowing for decades, adding further pressure to an already stretched system.

This is where the uncomfortable question emerges.

Has Australia become too reliant on a model driven by rising property values, expanding credit and population growth?

As asset prices rise, households feel wealthier and borrow more. Banks lend more. Governments collect more revenue. Migration fuels demand. The cycle reinforces itself.

But when productivity stalls and debt outpaces real income, the system begins to depend on constant expansion just to stay stable.

It is not a collapse scenario. But it is not particularly stable either.

Nowhere is this more evident than in housing.

The National Housing Accord targets 1.2 million new homes over five years, yet current completion rates are well below that pace. With approvals falling and construction costs rising, the gap between supply and demand is widening, not narrowing.

Housing is also one of the largest contributors to inflation, with costs rising sharply across rents, construction and utilities. Yet the private sector, from small investors to major developers, is struggling to make projects stack up in the current environment.

This brings the policy debate into sharper focus.

Tax settings such as negative gearing and capital gains concessions have undoubtedly boosted demand over the past two decades. But they have also supported supply. Removing them may ease prices briefly, but risks deepening the supply shortage over time.

That is the paradox.

Policies designed to make housing more affordable can, in practice, make the shortage worse if they discourage development. The optics may appeal, but the economics are far less forgiving.

It is also worth remembering that most property investors are not institutional players. The majority own just one investment property. They are, in many cases, ordinary Australians using real estate as their primary wealth-building tool.

Undermining that system without replacing it with a viable alternative risks unintended consequences, from reduced supply to higher rents and increased inflation.

So where does that leave Australia?

At a crossroads.

The country can continue to rely on population growth and rising asset prices to drive economic activity. Or it can shift towards a model built on productivity, innovation and sustainable growth.

The latter is harder. It requires structural reform, long-term thinking and political discipline.

But it is also the only path that leads to genuine, lasting prosperity.

The question is no longer whether Australia has been lucky.

It is whether it can evolve before that luck runs out.

Paul Miron is the Co-Founder & Fund Manager of Msquared Capital.

Lighting the way for sustainable design

New Zealand’s best known furniture designer David Trubridge celebrates 20 years of his iconic pendant light

As housing drives wealth and policy debate, the real risk is an economy hooked on growth without productivity to sustain it.