About

Still-Light is a trauma-informed digital experience centered on presence, softness, and emotional safety. Rather than guiding users through actions or decisions, it offers a quiet environment designed for stillness, reflection, and gentle connection.

The experience is intentionally minimal and non-directive. There are no expectations to respond, explain, or engage in a specific way. Instead, Still-Light creates space for users to simply exist as they are, supported without pressure and accompanied without demand.

The Why

This project comes from a deeply personal understanding of what it means to need support, but not be ready to seek it. In those moments, traditional systems, no matter how helpful, can feel distant, overwhelming, or difficult to access.

Still-Light was created to hold that space differently. To affirm, support, and to quietly acknowledge what may be difficult to name. Not by asking more of the user, but by offering less, less pressure, less expectation, and more room to simply be.

Answering a Problem

Halfway through the MAGWD program, I knew I wanted to create a project that centered the experiences of trauma survivors, particularly those affected by sexual assault (SA) and childhood sexual abuse (CSA).

My initial concept explored a platform centered around trauma therapy. But as I developed the idea further, I chose to shift direction. I didn’t want to recreate systems that already exist, especially when many platforms already offer resources, guidance, and intervention effectively.

That realization reframed the problem. If support systems are designed for action, what exists for the moment before action?

What does an environment look like where the user isn’t expected to do anything, but still feels supported?

That question became the starting point for Still-Light—a space designed to support without expectation.

Rather than guiding users toward action or resolution, the intention became something quieter: to create an environment where presence itself is enough. From that point forward, each design decision was shaped not by what the user should do, but by what they might need in a moment where doing feels like too much.

This approach took form through three core principles:

Presence over performance
Still-Light does not ask the user to engage, respond, or share. There are no prompts requiring input, no expectations to participate. The space exists with or without interaction, allowing the user to remain entirely passive if they choose.

Choice without pressure
Navigation is open and non-linear. There are no required paths, no progress indicators, and no defined endpoints. Users may move freely through the experience—or not at all—without consequence or expectation.

Emotional safety through design
Every element within Still-Light is intentionally restrained. Soft gradients, slow transitions, minimal language, and subtle motion work together to reduce cognitive load. The goal is not to capture attention, but to gently hold it.

Rather than guiding users toward a specific outcome, Still-Light holds space for whatever they bring with them—whether that is restlessness, grief, numbness, or stillness.

It is not a tool meant to fix, diagnose, or improve.
It is a space to simply be.

The Process

Still-Light did not emerge as a fully formed idea. The project evolved from an earlier project called Quiet Gathering, a digital environment designed to offer comfort and connection without demanding participation from the user. What began as a smaller experiment gradually became a deeper investigation into emotional design, accessibility, and trauma-informed digital experiences.

The Still-Light environment evolved through multiple phases of research, conceptualizing, prototyping, testing, and technical implementation. Each iteration brought challenges and revealed new design avenues, shaping the journey and ultimately influencing the development of Still-Light.

Before creating any visual designs, I spent time reflecting on what the experience could offer and what role it might play for the user. I explored a small number of trauma-informed websites and mindfulness applications, using them as reference points for tone, visual design, and user experience. While these examples helped inform my thinking, the goal was not to replicate existing solutions, but to better understand how an online environment could feel calm, welcoming, and accessible.

The next phase focused on what the environment should feel like before I determined what it should do. Color and typography were intentionally selected to communicate warmth, quietness, and approachability. I wanted that sense of light to be evident, so I looked to sunsets for inspiration because they have always felt peaceful and calming.

After establishing the overall look of the site I then moved on and identified several emotional objectives:

• Create a sense of calm and safety
• Reduce pressure and expectation
• Encourage exploration rather than task completion
• Foster a feeling of connection without requiring participation

These goals helped establish the direction for both the interface and content strategy.

I played around with environment ideas, what could each section of the site offer and what would they look like. I sketched out some rough ideas. Constellation and Breath would both become what are now The Quiet Gathering and The Quiet Glow.

Once I had the visual direction established, I moved onto developing the project.

The site was built using HTML, CSS, JavaScript, React, p5.js, and AI-assisted tools including Figma Make and Microsoft Copilot, allowing for a more immersive and interactive environment than traditional static web pages. Development involved extensive experimentation with responsive layouts, animated elements, environmental audio, and interactive visual components.

This phase became a balancing act between technical execution and emotional intent. It wasn't just about the site functioning properly; it was about whether it created a sense of calm and presence.

Accessibility considerations were incorporated throughout the project, including responsive layouts, clear typography, sufficient color contrast, and user-controlled audio options.

Iteration Through Testing

As prototypes became more refined, feedback helped identify opportunities for improvement. Testing focused on:

• Ease of navigation
• Content clarity
• Emotional response
• Accessibility considerations
• Overall user experience

I reached out to a variety of people to gather feedback, including instructors, subject matter experts (SMEs), and friends.

An instructor from an earlier semester offered the following:

I think this is a thoughtful and well-executed concept. What stands out to me is that you're not trying to create another resource hub or support platform—instead, you're creating a quiet space for people who may not be ready to engage but still need to feel seen. That's a unique perspective.

The visual direction supports the message well. The soft color palette, typography, and overall tone feel calming and intentional, which aligns with the trauma-informed approach you're describing. I'm viewing this on my MacBook Pro, and the experience of sitting here feels much more like visiting a website than using an app on a phone. It makes me wonder if there's an opportunity to incorporate subtle sound, ambient audio, motion, or visual elements that further support the language and emotional tone you're presenting, especially for desktop users. Small moments of movement or atmosphere could help reinforce the feeling of presence, comfort, and reflection.

Overall, I think this is a strong concept with a clear purpose and a lot of emotional depth. I would continue refining how the experience unfolds across the site so that each section reinforces that sense of comfort, safety, and quiet support.

I had already been struggling with whether to add sound or not. My reluctance was that not everyone finds the same sounds or music calming and I didn't want it to become a distraction. But after some research and trial and error, I finally found a sound bath that I thought worked well. I added it to the Quiet Glow page of my prototype and added a toggle button, so that the user could opt in to it, rather than it being thrust upon them.

During user testing suggestions such as removing the header navigation from the home page and adjusting some of the language in Words to Rest In were made, and those changes were implementd successfully.

Part of user testing included filling out a survey on Google Forms that included roughly ten questions on ease of use and first impressions, below is a small sampling of the questions.

What I Learned

What began as Quiet Gathering became more than a website prototype. It demonstrates how design decisions, content strategy, motion, and interaction design can work together to create an emotional experience rather than simply deliver information.

Most importantly, the project revealed that we don’t have to be afraid of white space and that a website doesn’t need to require instruction, solutions, or action to be effective and have an impact. Sometimes the most effective design choice is to create space.

Those lessons directly informed the development of Still-Light, where the concepts first explored in Quiet Gathering evolved into a trauma-informed experience centered on presence, validation, and gentle support.

Deliverables