How I Brought My First Art Installation to Burning Man

From the very first day I stepped onto the playa at Burning Man, I dreamed of bringing my own installation. I would walk through the desert, looking at these incredible works of art, imagining that one day my own sculpture would stand among them.

But every year, I told myself the same thing: next year.

I thought about applying for an art grant, about the budget, about everything I would need to prepare. I understood that behind every installation were money, transportation, people, and countless decisions you never see as a visitor. The dream stayed with me, along with the feeling that I needed to be better prepared before making it happen.

This year, things went differently.

On July 26, my birthday, I launched a fundraiser to create my DO WHAT YOU LOVE sculpture.
https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-create-the-do-what-you-love-sculpture
Honestly, I wasn’t initially planning to bring it to that year’s Burning Man. The event was only a month away. I just wanted to get started—to take the first step toward something I had dreamed about for years.

In about two weeks, we raised almost $4,500. People donated, encouraged me, and believed in the idea. Little by little, it started becoming real.

Around the same time, I met someone in Los Angeles who makes signs and commercial displays. He agreed to build the sculpture, worked with my budget, and said he could finish it in two to two and a half weeks.

Suddenly, there was a chance we could make it in time.

I sent him my drawings. We discussed the dimensions, the structure, and how everything should look. I tried to keep my expectations in check. There was very little time, and everything had to come together almost down to the day.

While the sculpture was being built, I started looking for a way to get it to the desert. It wouldn’t fit in a regular car. I posted in Burner groups, reached out to friends, and asked around for anyone who might have room to transport it.

My friends from Army of Love came through:

“Sergey, yes, we’ll take it. Bring it over.”

First, though, I had to get it to their loading location, about three hours outside Los Angeles. A friend lent me his van, and on one of the last nights before our departure, I drove the sculpture out so the crew could load it onto their truck.

I didn’t get home until five in the morning. We still had our own packing and trip to Burning Man ahead of us.

I thought the hardest part was behind me.

When we arrived on the playa on the evening of August 30, we learned that the truck carrying the sculpture had broken down on the way. We were there. The sculpture wasn’t.

All we could do was wait.

The truck finally arrived on Monday evening. The next morning, we assembled the sculpture and temporarily set it up at Army of Love’s camp. It wasn’t anchored to the ground yet. Strong winds picked up, and it fell over a couple of times. Thankfully, there was no major damage, but it was clear we still had work to do.

Friends helped move it to our camp. We then received permission to install the artwork on the playa and were given a great spot around 7:30, near Esplanade. The whole process was new to me. For the first time, I was there with my own sculpture, figuring out how to get it installed.

The next challenge was anchoring it.

I had brought anchors, but they turned out to be the wrong kind for the installation. Then, by chance, I met another artist, Andrey, who also had artwork on the playa. When I explained the problem, he said:

“I have spare anchors. You can use them.”

He gave me the anchors and pointed me toward the right tool. Together with people from our camp, we got to work. Even then, there was another surprise: one of the anchors broke during installation. We had to work through that on the spot and finish securing the sculpture.

And then, there it was.

My sculpture was standing on the playa.

I looked at it and could hardly believe it had happened. After years of saying “someday,” after the fundraiser, the overnight drive, the broken-down truck, and all the searching and problem-solving—it was finally there.

But we still needed light.

I wanted the sculpture to come alive at night, which meant finding a power source. I went from camp to camp, asked friends, and explored different options. For a while, nothing worked out.

Then Borya from Camp Plov Craft said:

“Of course, Sergey. Take it. No problem.”

He lent us his generator through Sunday. It was an enormous help. After that came the search for gas, trips to pick it up, and regular refueling. Keeping the sculpture lit became its own little daily routine.

But the generator ran. The sculpture glowed. And I was happy.

Throughout that week, I kept hearing simple words: “Bring it over.” “I’ll help.” “I have one.” “Take it.” Every time, there was a person behind those words who made the next step possible.

This piece wouldn’t have made it to the playa without everyone who supported the fundraiser, the fabricator who took on such a tight deadline, the friend who lent me his van, Army of Love, the people in our camp, Andrey, and Borya from Plov Craft.

For me, this became one of the most meaningful experiences of my life as an artist. I had brought paintings to Burning Man before. This time, my message took on a physical, three-dimensional form and occupied its own space in the desert. You could walk up to it, move around it, and see it glowing in the distance at night.

I had imagined that moment for years. And when it finally arrived, what I felt most was gratitude.

To everyone who helped bring this dream to the playa—thank you. Every time I looked at the sculpture glowing in the desert, I knew how many people were behind that light.