According to the evidence, I first saw Marina Abramovic: The Artist Is Present on June 4th, 2021. Nine years after it came out, in the East Village apartment where I took summer classes between my junior and senior year of college. This screenshot served as my laptop wallpaper for many years - a commitment reserved only for the rare pieces of imagery that really really resonate (it’s that serious) and tend to define that time period. I was in love with the still: the deep red, the casual oranges, and the contrast of the fleeting subtitle. I knew I should live with it for a while.

Contextually, she had been speaking of her struggles to get out of bed before her MoMa performance. She’s rambling - describing the power in red sheets and red oranges, taking codeine to beat six ill days. She brushes off the scattered monologue with the simple phrase.

Anyway, there I am.

Maybe I abandoned the phrase for myself to find years later or maybe I should have taken it as a sign for what would inform the overarching thesis of my work, but it resonates now more than ever. I am drawn to contrast fundamentally - layering geometric and organic elements in my paintings - and the statement has a similar dual feeling to me. Anyway - fleeting and passive, disregarded - grounded by there I am - an objective and indisputable truth. Despite everything, here is where I ended up.

The common thread of my work focuses on traces left behind in a space, both by unseen people and natural processes, and how this mysterious collaboration culminates in the accidental creation of something new. Accidental public art. We leave behind physical evidence of our presence through graffiti, scratches, litter, and shoe prints, and nature challenges this with its own gritty drip stains, dirt, and leaks. The transient space of the subway as somewhere we don’t linger for long perfectly captures this, and is further pushed by the contrast of organic stains and geometric tiles. There are grounding geometric elements and uncontainable organic elements, and somewhere our stories are in the middle of them.

On my 2025 vision board, I had the words ‘return to self’. I used the mantra as a reminder be mindful, authentic, and look inward for true inspirations to guide me. So when I was conceptualizing what to name this Substack, I turned to one of my formative artistic inspirations and uncovered the perfect title: anyway, there I am. We will come to ourselves while moving through moments in time and suddenly look around, thinking, I don’t know how I got here, but regardless, I am here.

Truthfully, the first time I saw The Artist is Present was at MoMa in 2010. At nine years old, I knew it was really important but didn’t know why. Transfixed, we stayed and watched, sitting on the floor of the atrium balcony. This piece has been with me for a long time, and I have to trust the forces that put me there in that moment and are the reason I am an artist today (the forces in question: probably my parents).

It’s important to take inspiration from everywhere and keep it with you forever, because you’ll never anticipate when you will need it. Being present. Being here now. Lingering. Thinking. Considering everything, even the ugly and dirty.

Here, I’ll share further writings on my paintings, their inspirations, and insights from artists working with the concept of cities. Through these conversations, we can all bring a little awareness to the everyday, notice what we notice, and return to ourselves in some way.

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anyway, there i am

here&now ft. daniel fine

Spring.