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The
author, center, with friends Sacha, left and Alicia,
right in their desert encampment
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BURNING MAN 2003
BEYOND BELIEF
At Burning Man in the
Nevada Black Rock desert,
Art is the norm and
the Surreal becomes Real
September 24, 2003
By KAREN SCHELL
FOR THE ARGUS-COURIER
In a culture of convenience,
Nevada's Black Rock Desert is the most inconvenient place
imaginable, yet 30,000 people don't seem to mind. Every
year for 13 years, around Labor Day, Burning Man participants,
also called "burners," truck everything, including
the kitchen sink, to the middle of this vast white desert
made from a prehistoric lake bed. There they live for a
week in Black Rock City, a city of five square miles created
by its residents on the spot, a city that will vanish at
the end of the week when everyone leaves.
Unlike other festivals,
Burning Man participants must pack in and pack out everything,
including their own garbage (and for the most part, they
do). There is no restaurant, no general store, no water,
food, electric power or shade and it is hot, and dusty.
You must bring all the essentials, and for many, these include
elaborate costumes, bicycles, even cars transformed into
artthe only cars allowed to drive in Black Rock City.
People quickly discover
that collaboration leads to more interesting results and
come together in theme camps. For Petaluma's Liquid Diet
Lounge, this means collectively bringing a sound system,
a dome with bar and barstools, and thousands of drinks to
pour the entire week. For Zoner Hill from San Francisco,
it means fire dancing, huge tyco drums, and an art car dispensing
sno-cones. The two camps came together this year along with
others from Colorado to collaborate on a community kitchen
and a tower equipped with a flame thrower.
Ideas you didn't even know
you had unfold before your eyes on the desert playa. People
dye themselves green, create altars, ride bikes through
the hot desert in crinolines and fairy wings, issue "karmic
credit" cards and run sake bars that also clean your
eyeglasses. "Because last time I was here, my glasses
just got so dirty," says the Sonoma bartender.
Petaluma photographer Scott
Hess says, "It was a huge impact arriving on the scene
at sunset, being whisked onto a bicycle without any forethought
and flying through this wonderland at night with music and
lights everywhere, people dressed in their primitive finest,
and the open, powerful energy of a gift economy where someone
isn't trying to sell you something every two feet. It was
pure joy."
Whether costume, shelter,
transportation, meditation spot or play structure, art is
everywhere at Burning Man. Perhaps this is the most amazing
part of the eventthe total integration of art, so
lacking in our commercialized, utilitarian culture where
we are taught from a young age that art is frivolous, only
to be had if there is extra money or time. At Burning Man,
art is the norm and the artists are celebrities. But since
everyone is an artist, everyone is celebrated, from well-known
Petaluma artist David Best who creates elegant temples,
to the anonymous artist who constructed a small Stonehenge
out of Twinkies in the Center Café.
Art at Burning Man is ultimately
for the people. Huge granite slabs hanging from chains normally
a liability to be roped offare climbed on, camped
under and enjoyed. Best's Temple of Honor is written on
with ink pens and burned at the end of the week. The Twinkie
Stonehenge ends up with a few bites taken out of it.
Burning Man is sublime juxtapositions
and universal humor at its best. You might bring prom dresses
for your week camping in the deserteven if you are
a manor discover a phone booth where you can talk
to God. A Spanish galleon or a large glowing pink pig could
glide past suddenly, and while praying at midnight in the
Temple of Honor, where departed loved ones are remembered,
the "Funk Wagon" might drive by with "Weee've
got the Funk!" blasting from huge speakers on a decorated
platform of dancing people, placing everything into perspective.
Saturday night, everyone
gathers together to watch the burning of the Man, a reference
point, sculpture and city icon. His burning means the imminent
close of the city. The intense heat of the burn, fueled
by 100 gasoline-soaked hay bales inside, reminds of the
risks taken here. Burns, dehydration and worse can occur
in a place with few laws and regulations. The closeness
of death is acknowledged in Black Rock City in many ways,
from temples to altars and ritual burning of objects. While
much collective celebration takes place, it is also a spiritual,
intensely personal atmosphere where death and life, happiness
and sadness commingle.
Amid happiness and sadness
lies the trickster. In the new moon darkness, bicycling
far from the circle of lights and 24-hour music that is
Black Rock City, you might see a strange glow in the distance.
Hallucination? Aliens? Noas you approach, you find
a hot dog stand illuminated with black lights. "What
would you likegrilled cheese, hot dog or peanut butter
and jelly sandwich?" asks the smiling man behind the
glowing stand. The sheer absurdity is striking, and wonderful.
And this rugged desert suddenly evolves into a synchronous
dreamscape where lip balms, glowsticks, and poems are a
medium of exchange, music becomes a heartbeat and even hot
dogs turn into art.
(Contact Karen Schell at
dragonflygraphics@earthlink.net)
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