Phillip K. Smith III thinks he’s doing a good job. He believes humans desire love, connection and beauty; if his art can take care of two out of the three—beauty and community—then he is satisfied. An artist whose primary medium is light, Smith installs lonesome installations within the desolate landscapes surrounding his native Palm Springs, often using mirrors to reflect the Californian sun as it bathes the red and yellow rock in sunlight and shadow. Here, in collaboration with COS, Smith discusses his most recent commission, Open Sky, which transplanted his approach into the fray of Milan’s Salone del Mobile. In this piece, his mirror structure draws the Italian sky down into the courtyard of a 16th-century palazzo.

In what ways can public art foster a sense of community?
There’s a desire for humans to feel connected. We should certainly celebrate our differences, but it’s more powerful to celebrate what we have in common—the things that unite us. That’s the power of the Open Sky project at Salone del Mobile—it focuses the eye on the sky, which connects all of us—no matter where we live.

Your work plays with the law of reflection. Do you also use mirrors to encourage philosophical reflection?
Reflecting the landscape through mirrors allows viewers to slow down. It’s a place and an opportunity to step away from your schedule, current priorities, pressures or whatever is irritating your mind. It gives you a moment to step back and reconsider—hear every single sound of nature, listen to the wind. Everything washes away and you begin to align and connect yourself with the pace of the work.

Open Sky was commissioned by COS. How do you feel about blurring the lines between art and fashion?
Commercialism and the art world are almost always not friends. But I’d say that there’s been no difference between working with COS and with a museum that has called me up to say, “We love your work. We have this space, a budget, and we’d like to work with you.” COS expressed to me from the beginning that they wanted to support me as an artist. It gives them an opportunity to think about their work through new eyes, and it gives me an opportunity to think about my own, too. I have total respect for that. It’s how all creatives should work—without blinders.

How important is human experience in your exhibitions?
Trying to craft a relationship between the viewer and the work is important to me. It grew out of going to galleries in New York when I was a freshman at university and realizing that looking at art is a bit like opening somebody’s diary but not knowing what happened before or after. There’s no connection. I think scale and the procession through the work is important for all of that. The Circle of Land and Sky [an installation in Palm Desert] could handle one person, 10 people, 150 people, and it still felt like it was somehow intimate, like there was a sense of shelter.

Do you ever become blind to the beauty of the Palm Springs landscape?
Whenever I left my old studio in Indio, I would be on the freeway headed toward Los Angeles and all I would see was the sunset, every single day for about 14 years. That starts to affect you, in a positive way. I started to think about how I could get that perfect gradient, that color, in my work. And so, I look at the landscape as source material for what I’m working on daily. No matter where I travel, I really enjoy coming back to the desert. It’s part of my blood, it’s part of who I am and I know it and love it. I’ve lived here for most of my life, but it’s still fresh inspiration for me every day.

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This feature is produced in partnership with COS.