I'm Fine

Social upheavals, including wars and protest movements, have always attracted contemporary artists. The reflected tragedy would appear before the public's eyes in its concentrated form—as a painting, sculpture, artistic action, performance, installation, or video sequence. The inhuman genocidal war unleashed by the regime of Russian dictator Vladimir Putin against Ukraine has already had numerous artistic incarnations—from documentary films and songs by Western musicians to exhibitions in art galleries and public performances in the central squares of major European cities.

In 2024, the Russian-Ukrainian war reached Nevada, where the annual contemporary art festival Burning Man takes place in the salty, lifeless Black Rock Desert.

Despite the entertaining nature of the festival, contemporary art always finds a way to reach the hearts of carefree residents of Europe and America, once again reminding them of the terrible price of freedom (including the freedom of artistic expression) that the Ukrainian people are now paying, defending their land from Russian occupiers. The Ukrainian installation titled I'm Fine became one of the main events of Burning Man 2024. At first glance, viewed from a distance, it seems that this phrase is composed of bright, cheerful, almost toy-like letters. But up close, the impression changes, as it becomes clear that the bright letters are made of war artifacts—various elements, including road signs shot through and damaged by shell fragments, fragments of a shopping centre in Kherson destroyed by the Russians, parts of fences, solar panels, children's playgrounds, and much more, mutilated by gunfire.

The 10-ton installation I'm Fine, 32 metres long and 7 metres high, was created by Ukrainian artist Oleksiy Sai and the founder of Ukrainian Witness, Vitaliy Deynega. Here is what Vitaliy writes about his work on social media:

"People stand and watch. Sometimes for a very long time. The braver ones touch the sharp edges. Many cry. It seems our idea worked, and it will be heard by tens of thousands of people here. Our completely inadequate life situation has become the norm for us, we have learned to be strong and celebrate life even under these circumstances. We react less and less to rockets and death, the grief and extraordinary efforts required just to keep from losing our minds from the fears of war and the guilt of not doing enough. We really are 'fine', it's just that our 'fine' is scarier than the worst nightmares. But we live, we fight, and we even try to find joy sometimes. We are 'fine'. We are even ready to sincerely ask the world, 'How are you?'."

In the third year of the full-scale war, the phrase "I'm fine" has become a universal meme for Ukrainians, a marker of their unwavering will to victory and readiness to continue the fight against evil.

Imagine the daily life of a Ukrainian soldier who has been on the front line of battle with the enemy for several days—he has lost friends, suffered from heat, cold, the inability to sleep, the roar of Russian bombs and mortars, repelled endless assault waves of Russians attacking the positions of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. All this time, somewhere in the rear, his relatives and friends, wife, parents, and children were waiting for him. Finally, a silent messenger shows that the subscriber is back online. The first thing his relatives write is the question, "How are you?" The first thing the soldier, who has just endured several days (or weeks) of real hell, will reply is, "I'm fine."

Imagine a civilian living in a Ukrainian rear city, which is bombarded every night by Russian "Iskanders", Iranian "Shahed" drones, and "Kinzhal" missiles launched by Russian strategic bombers. After the howling of sirens, the thunder of night explosions, the clinking of shattered windows from the shock wave, and the messages from the State Emergency Service about another damaged civilian infrastructure facility, the first thing a Ukrainian, who woke up from the shelling, does is write to their friends and family: "I'm fine." "We are fine." "The strike was very close, but our home survived, and we are all right." These short messages permeate all messengers and social networks—they carry hope and firmness of spirit, hatred for the ruthless enemy, and the horrible, undeserved experience of a terrible, unnecessary war unleashed by the rabid Kremlin pack.

Source: facebook.com/deynega \Olexiy Repik

"An American man said that our installation contains so much grief and death that it's hard to bear, and he cried. Another said it holds a lot of strength, because if we were victims and not warriors, we wouldn't have brought it here...

This is our new normal. A normality we did not want and do not deserve. But in which we continue to fight and celebrate life. We honestly say: 'I'm fine,' often not even realizing that we are writing this from the most terrifying of possible nightmares. And we are absolutely sincere in our readiness to ask how they are doing and to thank them for their help. Because, just as we don't fully grasp the depth of horror from which we write, we also don't fully grasp the strength of these words. And how strong each of us has become. But this contrast is very palpable here. And it evokes deep empathy, respect, and admiration for us. That is why so many people cry near our work. But not because they pity us. But because they admire what and how we are going through together, saying 'We are fine,'" writes Vitaliy Deynega on Facebook, commenting on his incredible work.

As for the phrase I'm Fine, it can already rightfully be considered ingrained in the DNA of every Ukrainian who daily endures the most terrible ordeal in human history—the ordeal of war.