worm's-eye view photography of concrete building

Density and daylight: the trade-off nobody fully resolves

Two things are simultaneously true about London development. More homes need to be built on the land available, which means higher density. And people are entitled to reasonable daylight in the homes they already occupy and the homes being proposed. These are not always compatible, and the way the industry handles the incompatibility is unsatisfactory on all sides.

The unsatisfying part is not the physics. The physics is well understood. It is that the assessment framework was developed for a lower-density city, and it is being used to adjudicate a denser one, with the result that everyone argues about the method instead of the outcome.

What is actually being measured

Daylight and sunlight assessment in this country generally follows building research guidance that has been in use for decades. It considers, broadly, how much sky a window can see, how much diffuse daylight reaches the interior, and how much direct sun falls on a facade or an amenity area over the year. The outputs are ratios and percentages compared against reference values.

The critical thing to understand about that guidance is that it describes itself as guidance and explicitly contemplates flexibility according to context. It is not a standard in the regulatory sense, and it does not claim that a scheme failing a numerical target is unacceptable. In practice it is frequently used as though it were a pass or fail threshold, by objectors, by applicants when the numbers suit them, and occasionally by decision-makers who want an apparently objective basis for a judgement that is really a balancing exercise.

The consequence is a discourse conducted in decimal points about a question that is genuinely qualitative: is the resulting living environment acceptable, in this location, given what is gained.

Where the framework strains

The reference values embed assumptions about suburban conditions. Applied literally in a dense urban core, they can imply that existing conditions are already unacceptable before anything is built, which makes the comparative test behave oddly. A room that is already poorly lit can show a large proportional loss from a small change, while a well-lit room absorbs a much larger intervention without breaching anything.

Room use is another strain point. The assessment does not know whether it is looking at a bedroom, a living room or a hallway, and it does not know how the occupants use the space. A bedroom prioritised for darkness and a living room used mainly in daylight hours have different real requirements and identical treatment.

Then there is the question of what the receiving building is. Existing residential deserves protection. But assessments routinely capture rooms in buildings with consent to be demolished, commercial floors that will be converted at some point, and windows serving spaces where daylight has no functional value. Sorting the meaningful receptors from the notional ones is a large part of a competent assessment and is regularly not done.

The self-inflicted losses

Most of the daylight problems in new residential schemes are not caused by external constraints. They are caused by decisions inside the scheme, taken for other reasons, whose daylight consequences were not priced.

Single-aspect north-facing units. These are produced by the combination of a deep block, a single-corridor arrangement and a target unit count. They are the hardest units to sell or let, they perform worst on every environmental measure, and they are usually the direct result of a plan decision taken months before anyone modelled anything.

Deep plans with continuous glazing. Increasing glazed area does not compensate for depth. Daylight falls away rapidly from the window regardless of how tall the glass is, and beyond a certain depth the back of the room is artificially lit at all times. Meanwhile the glazing creates an overheating problem that the mitigation strategy solves with solar control glass or external shading, both of which reduce daylight. Deep plans thus generate two failures that fight each other.

Inset balconies. A recessed balcony is popular because it keeps the elevation clean and simplifies the waterproofing and the acoustic case. It also sits directly over the window of the room behind it and removes a substantial part of that room’s sky view. Where a scheme shows widespread daylight underperformance in units that look otherwise well configured, the balconies are usually the cause.

Narrow courtyards. A courtyard whose width is small relative to the height of the walls around it does not deliver daylight to the lower floors, and it delivers privacy problems and noise reflection at the same time. Courtyard schemes work when the proportions are right and fail comprehensively when they are not, and the proportions are set at the earliest massing stage.

Density is not the same as height

Much of the public debate treats density and tall buildings as synonyms. They are not. Some of the densest residential fabric in London is mid-rise perimeter development with continuous street frontage, no gaps and shallow plans. It achieves density through coverage and efficiency rather than height, it produces good street enclosure, and it generally daylights well because the plan depth is modest and every unit faces either a street or a generously proportioned courtyard.

Point blocks with large floorplates can perform worse on both counts. A tower with a deep floorplate delivers a high proportion of compromised units, casts long shadows that move across a wide area, and often sits in a landscaped setting that consumes the land the height was supposed to save.

The design question is therefore rarely how tall, and much more often what plan depth, what aspect ratio, what proportion of dual-aspect units, and what relationship between building height and the width of the space it faces. Those parameters determine both the density achieved and the daylight delivered, and they are set together or not at all.

How to handle it properly

  • Model early and iteratively. A daylight assessment run once, after planning drawings are complete, can only report. Run at massing stage, it changes the massing while changing it is still cheap.
  • Set an internal standard on dual aspect and single-aspect north. Decide the acceptable proportion at the outset and hold it, because it is the parameter most likely to erode quietly as unit counts are pushed.
  • Test the balcony strategy against the daylight results. Projecting, part-inset and winter garden arrangements all behave differently, and the choice is often made for elevational reasons alone.
  • Distinguish real receptors from notional ones in the neighbouring assessment, and explain the distinction rather than burying it in an appendix.
  • Present the outcome, not the ratio. If a room falls below a reference value but the resulting condition is demonstrably reasonable, say so and show why. If it is not reasonable, change the design.

The honest position

There is no configuration that maximises density and daylight simultaneously. Increasing one reduces the other at some margin, and the argument is about where that margin should sit in a city that needs housing badly and also has to be liveable once it is built.

What can be eliminated is the large volume of loss that buys nothing: the north-facing single-aspect units that exist because of a corridor decision, the depth that exists because of a structural grid nobody revisited, the courtyard that is too narrow by two metres. Removing those is not a compromise between density and daylight. It is just better design, and it takes place early or not at all.

London Planning

London Planning is a publication about how the city gets built and rebuilt: the applications, the appeals, the housing numbers, the conservation fights and the streets that quietly change shape while everyone argues about towers.

Scroll to Top