Animism, Art, and “Happy Virus”: A Philosophy of Play

All throughout their journey, Borkson and Sandoval cultivated a distinctive artistic philosophy that mixes child's play with mysticism. They often describe their mission as “re-designing spirituality for modern usage.” In interviews, Borkson has explained that contemporary life leaves people disconnected and hungry for meaning, and that art can step in where traditional religion might be fading. The duo uses the term “modern ritual” for their events. A bounce house becomes a ritual gathering, a cartoon character becomes a deity of kindness. They freely invert religious symbols and practices, but always through the accessible medium of play. “We're trying to redesign the systems that are crucial to our happiness and existence,” Sandoval noted, “It sounds cheesy, but it's serious talk.”​. By making art that anyone can engage with (kids, non-art-goers, even passersby on the street) they aim to “open a connection to the divine” that feels natural and unforced. In the gentle universe of FriendsWithYou, a smiling cloud or a stubby rainbow can carry profound symbolism: the cloud might represent peace and connectivity, the rainbow hope and unity. This reflects the influence of animism (the belief that objects and natural phenomena have a spirit) on their practice. As seen in their short animated film “Cloudy” (2012), which was launched on Pharrell Williams' i am OTHER channel, even droplets of water and puffy clouds are given personalities and songs. “Everything in our world has a role and a purpose,” the artists narrate in that piece. By giving the main cast of characters a soul, FriendsWithYou invite us to imagine a world in which every rock, tree, and toy is alive and has something to teach us, a perspective that children readily adopt, and one that many spiritual traditions share.

Visually, FriendsWithYou's style is a deliberate exercise in distilling forms to their essence. Their use of line is often minimal. For instance, the simple curved line of a smile or the oval outline of a face. Shape in their work leans towards basic geometry: circles, spheres, domes, and rectangular blocks. This gives their characters a kind of primal, archetypal presence, as if they were universal symbols that anyone from any culture could read. The color palette is high-key and cheerful: solid reds, blues, yellows, pinks, often applied in uniform swaths (the influence of the Superflat movement is evident here). There is little shading, so value (lightness or darkness) is mostly uniform. Everything appears evenly lit and bright, akin to a cartoon or an emoji. Texture is usually smooth or plush; whether it's the slick surface of a fiberglass sculpture or the soft fleece of a plush toy, the art invites tactile comfort rather than analytical distance. In terms of form, even when they work in three dimensions, FriendsWithYou favor rounded, blobby volumes that appear friendly and non-threatening. Negative space is treated playfully too: in installations, they leave lots of room for people to walk among the pieces, essentially making the audience part of the composition. When one walked through Rainbow City, for example, the gaps between inflatables created framed vistas of other inflatables, interspersed with moving human figures, as if the art and the participants together formed an ever-changing painting. The overall effect of these formal choices is an aesthetic of radical simplicity. It bears similarity to the work of Takashi Murakami, who also uses flat colors and clean lines to evoke what he calls a “very warm feeling” beneath the polished surface. It also resonates with Yayoi Kusama's approach of using repetition and bold hues to create an enveloping mood of euphoria. But where Murakami's smiling flowers or Kusama's polka dots often carry subtexts (Murakami's about consumerism and history, Kusama's about infinity and self-obliteration), FriendsWithYou's icons are more straightforward ambassadors of positivity. They consciously avoid heavy-handed art-world jargon. “Esoteric art-speak doesn't fit our kawaii, optimism-infused aesthetics,” Borkson laughs, “We've expanded beyond the gallery to be accessible and understandable. It's relational aesthetics, but with a deep soul.”​. In short, the duo marry intellectual rigor with innocence: they reference weighty ideas like relational aesthetics (art as social interaction) and open-source spirituality, yet their primary language is that of a children's storybook.

The notion of a “happy virus” encapsulates their impact. “FriendsWithYou's work is refreshingly positive and inclusive,” wrote one journalist, noting it is the opposite of the alienating, pretentious vibe that contemporary art can sometimes have. The artists themselves use the term “happy virus” to describe how their art spreads joy in a contagious way. This isn't to say they ignore the darker aspects of life. “Our work is not only about positivity. It's about facing the darkness with no fear, the entire spectrum of human experience,” Borkson told The FADER in 2015​. Indeed, by acknowledging the darkness (stress, sadness, division) and responding with light, they see their colorful characters as actants of healing. There is a subtle but important depth here: the happiness in FriendsWithYou's art is earned, not naïve. It's a choice to be optimistic in spite of difficulties. “The goal is to create communal experiences that make you feel something beyond the self and into the whole,” Sandoval has said. This goal (to transcend the self) aligns their work with age-old spiritual aims, whether the communal ecstasy of a festival or the self-forgetfulness of meditation. In their own playful way, FriendsWithYou are offering an antidote to individualism and isolation: come bounce in this goofy castle, and maybe you'll feel a little more at one with the universe.