In fact, they say they’re on a mission to propagate what they call “the happy virus,” an ecstatic, gleeful plague. But FriendsWithYou are not naïve, just because they make ebulliently simple toy-like sculptures and use primary hues. In fact, it’s in this simplicity that their genius lies: by using archetypes of human emotion and utilizing a mishmash of world religions, they elicit spiritual sensations in the viewer that are universal yet personal. This allows for scenes like a recent one at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles, where they set up a bouncy house, and encouraged the simple act of “play,” a freeing, pure action that adults often forget to do.
Borkson and Sandoval met as ravers in the 90s Miami scene, and despite recently relocating to the West Coast, their connection to the city runs deep. Sandoval grew up in Miami, the son of legendary jazz trumpeter Arturo Sandoval, and since then, the two have established their art practice in a fertile community of young artists with a distinctly South Florida aesthetic. So we asked them what makes the Magic City so…magical.
Arturo Sandoval III: The beaches are the most magical. When you’re in Miami, you’re living inside the Caribbean, so you get the most beautiful water you can imagine. I like going to the beach when there’s a storm.
Sam Borkson: Every day I would go running, get super sweaty, and the ocean is your body temperature. When you bring your body temp up from running, then jump in, it feels like your body is dissolving into the water. The Pacific is cold; but in Miami, there’s no difference between you and the ocean.
AS: Good Cuban food is tricky. There are many spots to avoid, which are the ones on the beach. You have to go to the mainland. You definitely want to get the pan con bistec [steak sandwich] at Enriqueta’s.
SB: Enriqueta’s is one of the best spots. Breakfast there will blow your mind.
AS: If you want to go to where the Cuban old school dudes go to aggregate, you go to Versailles.
SB: My favorite place is actually across the street from Versailles. It’s called La Carreta. Versailles is ashy and beautiful, while La Carreta is the dirty one. It’s the same owner as Versailles, but they do one thing better: lechón asado [grilled pork].
SB: The Dirty South means that you can make whatever you want, hustle, get it built, make it happen, and break every law. It’s so gangster.
AS: You can talk to government people and be like, “Hey, c’mon buddy, you can give me a permit.”
AS: Something that’s unique about the social dynamics is that it’s a very small town—it’s local, which is very nice. What’s unique about the people culturally is that it’s the only place you have a sampling of all the Hispanic cultures inside of an Anglo structure. There’s one of the biggest populations of Jews, Haitians, and all [other] immigrants, but it’s a very empowered Hispanic population, which you don’t get in other places in the country.
SB: Our artist friends support each other. That’s rare. Everything we did, everyone came to help us. There were no art critics, and while the institutions are amazing, there was only so much they could do. We didn’t depend on the galleries; we depended on the public. There’s such a community vibe in Miami.
AS: We [love] the humidity. When you grow up in it, and move away from it, you miss it.
SB: I love to sweat. That’s why you see me half of my existence with my shirt on. In Miami, if you’re our size, you’re sweaty all the time. Everybody is.
AS: And there’s so much precipitation. It’s so unique, especially in the summer with all those rain showers. It’s tropical rain.
SB: The rain is one of my favorite things. Everybody shares this from Miami. Every day in the summer, it rains a huge thunderstorm, but it’s not oppressive like the Northwest. It’s fast and fun. [And] it’s sexy! People have sex like crazy. You’re so hot; your blood is boiling. It’s more alive.