Dreamscapes

Rune Guneriussen’s temporary sculptures tease out the ways in which humans both love and disturb nature.

While absorbing photos of Norwegian artist Rune Guneriussen’s sculptures, I can’t help but daydream about stumbling upon one out in the wild. I imagine finding dozens of electrified table lamps on a lonely mountain peak, or bundles of brightly colored office chairs suspended from forest trees, or a skyscraper of books near a coastline. I think of the magic I would feel, then the confusion, and eventually, perhaps, the concern about how all the artfully arranged detritus ended up in nature.

Guneriussen’s sculptures are beautiful, but they are also temporary. Constructed largely out of old objects that are, he says, “in essence, garbage” — vintage lamps, outdated office furniture, old-fashioned globes — the artworks remain in place just long enough for him to photograph them.

While the sculptures are in place for only a moment in time, the process of creation is much longer, and time is an essential component of Guneriussen’s work. He visits the secluded sections of stream, small pockets of forest, and snow-dusted meadows that will eventually house his sculptures over and over to develop a personal connection.

“You will see that the spaces chosen are quite intimate spaces,” he told me recently by email, “and the reason for this is to get familiar with the ground, plants, environment and get the feeling of being accepted.” This familiarity allows for nature to direct his work, helping him tease out the contrasts between the objects he brings into the scene — objects that “should never have been there” — and the natural surroundings. His most successful pieces, he feels, reflect this.

More Online: Learn more about the artist at runeguneriussen.no.

Guneriussen sees how global environmental shifts have altered the Norwegian landscapes that he loves, a “disturbing” shift that he sees reflected in his personal relationship with nature: He no longer feels as welcome in the wild as he once did. In recent years, that shift has spurred him to make more of his sculptures out of reclaimed wood rather than consumer goods.

Ultimately, he hopes the intentionality and patience behind his process help him deliver complex messages about our human relationship to nature. “This includes knowledge, respect, [and] love,” he says, and also an understanding of the “mechanisms we disturb with our way of living.”

The complexity of this relationship shines through. After all, even though Guneriussen’s sculptures don’t belong in nature, they bring their own type of beauty to it. And they remind us that humans have more to offer than our waste.

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