Emil Gunnarsson

A Turn Toward Spring

Pine and Steel

I wonder if there’s still space for joy in contemporary art. Not the kind that needs to impress or explain itself too much—but joy that’s felt. Lived.

And what about play? The kind that’s unforced—simply an invitation to explore, to be curious, to find new possibilities.

I wonder if art can be a site for mindfulness. A gentle softening. A tuning in. Can an artwork hold that kind of space? Can it offer presence without demand?

Sometimes I think about the things I build—not as objects, but as invitations. To pause. A gentle reorientation. Not to escape the world, but to meet it differently.

To meet ourselves differently. I like to work outdoors, in public spaces, where art can weave into the everyday. Where movement and play don’t need to be planned but can unfold in unexpected ways. Public space is full of noise. Art doesn’t need to shout. But it can hold space—for wonder, for care, for small moments that open something.

Is there room for this kind of soft offering in the structure of the contemporary art world? For curiosity without clarity? For tenderness that doesn’t need to be intellectualized. For play that doesn’t need a punchline. I don’t know. But I keep wondering. And I keep building things that wonder with me; small gestures, playful invitations.