“Life, in some form, might always go on,” says Helsinki-based visual artist Taru Happonen, whose work spans painting, drawing, and sculpture. Moving between the microscopic and the cosmic, she explores structures, materials, and sensations that are at once wondrous and unsettling. In this interview, Happonen shares the inspirations, processes, and ideas that shape her artistic world.
Your work intertwines natural sciences and science fiction – what initial spark or moment drove you toward this unique fusion?
"The spark came from my personal interests and the literature I read. For example, the Finnish publisher Terra Cognita translates a wide range of popular science books, many of which have been inspiring. I also found Liu Cixin’s The Three-Body Problem trilogy to be a fascinating piece of science fiction."
You work with a wide range of materials, from pearlescent pigments to marble powder and recycled plastics. How do you choose which materials to combine in a single piece, and what do they allow you to express that traditional media cannot?
"I do a lot of material testing, and the final methods are selected based on those experiments. If I come across a new material that resonates with me, I test it and see how it fits into my process. I usually don’t fully plan in advance which materials I’ll use in a particular exhibition – the outcome is a product of the process and can sometimes take an unexpected direction."
"Artists have always used the materials available in their time, so in that sense painting has a long tradition of involving more than just oil paint on linen, for example. I use that technique as well, alongside everything."
Your art combines cosmic vastness and microscopic details – how do these two get in sync in your creative process?
"I find it fascinating how similar structures appear in nature at extremely different scales. A city from an aerial view resembles a motherboard, and the structures of certain cells look like galactic systems. In my works, I often combine such patterns and surfaces and unfold them into visibility."
Tell something surprising that most people do not know about you?
"I listen to very little music. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that! In the studio, there are lots of repetitive and lengthy phases in the work, and it helps me focus if I listen to audiobooks or podcasts. At home, my favorite sounds are the cats’ purring and the bubbling of the coffee machine."
Titles like “Taxidermy Surfaces” or “Vital Debris” are intriguing, poetic, and a bit scary. How do you come up with them, and how do you want them to work for your public?
"I’m delighted if they are both intriguing and a little scary! Those are the kinds of sensations I’m generally interested in evoking in the viewer – perhaps because the world is like that, full of great contrasts and complexity."
"I used to spend a lot of time coming up with titles, but nowadays I also use AI as an assistant in the process."
Do you draw inspiration by observing natural phenomena directly – like landscapes, biological forms, or airborne patterns – or is your creative groundwork primarily studio-based, online-based and imaginative?
"I use a wide range of reference images that I’ve collected over the years, as well as imagination and the element of chance that occurs during the working process."
When you oscillate between depicting a butterfly wing, a nebula, or cellular structures, how do you decide which scale or motif best conveys the emotional or philosophical intent of each piece?
"These things tend to take shape as the process progresses, and they’re often not entirely clear from the outset. Even if I think I’m sketching out a work quite precisely, it usually changes a lot along the way. Often my ideas don’t work as I imagined, or they don’t convey the kind of feeling I had hoped for, so I shift direction. That’s why I prefer to make my works at a calm pace, so I can take breaks and let them sit while I find the solutions. It’s hard to put those choices into words, which is why I make visual art – because it is my artistic language."
"When preparing for an exhibition, I usually have an overall atmosphere in mind that I want to convey. If a piece seems to be veering too far in a direction that doesn’t feel right to me, I scrap it and make something else, until the atmosphere communicates what I intended."
"I’ve done several exhibitions that, in hindsight, feel unsuccessful because I couldn’t quite reach what I was aiming for. I’m happy that the Vital Debris exhibition currently at Porvoo Art Hall turned out the way I had hoped, even though I can always find something to improve."
Your works are included in collections like Kiasma, HAM, and the Finnish State Art Deposit Collection. How does knowing your art exists in these institutional contexts influence how you view your role as an artist today?
"It’s of course a great honor that my works have found a home in those collections. Museums take good care of the pieces, which might otherwise be left gathering dust in my studio. Naturally, getting into a collection is also a kind of recognition for a contemporary artist, and I’m grateful for that. It feels good that the works interest others beyond just myself."
Looking ahead beyond 2025, are there boundaries or themes – conceptual, sensory, or material – that you're eager to explore next? What collaborations or events are you looking forward to?
"I always continue from where I left off in the previous exhibition, and that way I’m constantly developing my work. 2025 has been a very busy year, and I’m looking forward to a slightly slower working period so I can pause and reflect on how to further evolve the pieces. Material-wise, I think I want to keep developing the techniques I already use and combine them in more diverse ways."
Your favourite places in Helsinki?
"My home, my private art studio, pole dance studio, and Bar Café Apéro."
With your “Vital Debris” exhibition running until 12 October 2025 and the “Lorax” group show opening in New York in early September, how do you adapt your work for different exhibition contexts – especially solo versus group formats and Finland versus foreign countries?
"The available time and funding often have the biggest impact, as well as whether a curator is involved. For example, if I don’t have time to create new works for a group exhibition, I’ll propose existing ones. The curator usually decides which works are included in group shows. If there’s little or no funding for the exhibition – say, for artwork transport – it affects the size of works I can offer or create. In solo exhibitions, I try to be as free as possible so I can develop a body of work that pushes my artistic practice forward."
If you had a pet from another galaxy, how would this pet look and act?
"I have two Cornish Rex cats as family members, and they already look like they’re from another planet. They’re intense little oddities. My alien pet would be something like them – but with a form that’s impossible to describe."
Wonder and the sense of change are central to your work. How do you evoke those sensations in yourself? What evokes them for you?
"As a tool, I use the idea of a being from somewhere else who arrives on Earth for the first time and begins to explore, to dissect the planet and its different layers. I use this alien as a tool because I try to leave out human emotions. The being observes with curiosity and wonder: e-waste, plastic rafts, surviving organisms. There might be a dark undertone in the works, but to me there’s also hope – life, in some form, might always go on."
When you are not in creative mode, what do you do? How do you relax?
"I practice pole dancing actively as a hobby, and in recent years it’s been the best way to take my mind off work. I usually train about five times a week. I enjoy being at home with my cats and my partner. Laughing at stupid things with friends always helps with stress, and I’d love to find more time to see them during busy periods."