A dark hall in Milan asked us for a sky of its own. In 2016 we brought one indoors: a wide field of deep blue light laid across the wall, breathing slowly while the room held its silence.

A sky drawn by hand

At the centre, on a low steel plinth, stands a blown-glass sphere cradled by thin brass stems. Its surface gathers points of light like a night sky held in the palm. Behind it, fine filaments of fibre-optic light fan outward in every direction, tracing a white corona over the blue. The walls do the rest: distance becomes depth, and the dark becomes a place to stand.

We set the sphere low, at the height of a hand, so the rays read as weather rather than as an object. Walk around the plinth and the corona turns with you. Stand still, and it settles into a slow pulse of its own.

Constellations remains one of our quietest rooms. One sphere, a hundred filaments, and the darkness doing its patient work. Light, kept simple.