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| "The desert is an environment of revelation, genetically and psychologically alien, sensorily austere, esthetically abstract, historically inimical... Its forms are bold and suggestive. The mind is beset by light and space, the kinesthetic novelty of aridity, high temperature, and wind... To the desert go prophets and hermits; through the deserts go pilgrims and exiles. Here the leaders of the great religions have sought the therapeutic and spiritual values of retreat, not to escape but to find reality."
Paul
Shepard, Man in the Landscape: A Historic View of the Esthetics of
Nature
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Dust, the conglomerate hodgepodge of particulate matter that humans spend most of their lives trying to avoid. We erect walls of stone and brick, constantly battle its buildup in our homes, and cleanse our bodies daily. All vain attempts to exclude an entity that always seems to find its way back in. Yet, there is something to be said about the gritty, unkempt state of mind that dust demands from us. Being dirty invokes an instant feeling of revulsion, which quickly devolves into complacent acceptance. The eventual outcome of this perpetual dustiness brings about a profound and intense sense of freedom—an unfiltered experience of revelation. Thus, it is most fitting that dust is the first veil one must pass through upon arrival in Black Rock City, the fine alkaline layer of white clay that will stick with the traveler long after their exodus from the Playa.
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| Goggle day |
Indeed,
dust serves as nature’s first line of defense against societal
norms in BRC. The afore mentioned feeling of revulsion is quick and
fleeting, as one leaves the “default” world behind and gives
themselves fully to the vivid energy that is Burning Man. I suppose
this act of letting go is one of the central tenets of the festival.
An “I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want this week”
attitude contagiously spreads through the endless rows of tents,
RV’s, towers, and vibrating dance floors. As Burners begin to shed
their default skins, a strong sense of community develops out in the barren Northern Nevada desert.
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| I shit you not |
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| Because nothing exemplifies community more than an older man in a G-string helping to push an RV |
Speaking
of community, Burning man is commonly known as a festival of radical
self-reliance, where one has to “rough it” to survive.
Participants are told to bring enough supplies to last for seven days
in a harsh desert landscape. Yet, I argue a person could show up on
the Playa with nothing but the clothes on their back and live quite
comfortably during their week in the dust. Hungry? Your neighbors
are cooking and trust me, they have enough to share. Gin and tonic
your drink of choice? There is an entire tent dedicated to serving
G&T’s and only G&T’s. Like pickles? Head over to the
Pickle Camp complete with giant glowing pickle statues and all the
preserved cucumbers one could ask for. Need a place to crash? The
orgy tents are air conditioned and I hear they have comfy couches.
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| Burning Man survival kit: Food, booze, hula-hoop |
The
gifting society that has developed on the Playa is both humbling and
awesome. All forms of currency are abolished at the
festival, and offering to pay for something is seen as more offensive
than not accepting the gift. A pure act of generosity, without an
expectation of reciprocation, is an extremely powerful notion.
These acts of kindness blanket Black Rock City, from the passing
stranger who mists you with their fan, to the girl who is a bit too "out of it" to try and fix your broken bike, but still gives it her best
shot anyways.
Hallucinating (yet helpful)
bystanders aside, perhaps the most important gifts provided by the
Burner community are the countless forms of art that decorate the
Playa and its inhabitants. From dancing statues that reach hundreds of feet into the sky, to roaming techno dinosaur mobiles, to a small necklace made
from home-blown glass, everyone finds a way to radically express
themselves out on that expansive stretch of sand and clay. Imagine
people arriving weeks in advance, and staying weeks after, to build
and dismantle the massive art installations and infrastructure that
hold BRC together. The entire city itself is a work of art, with its wide avenues, public plazas, and disco roller rinks.
Situated
at the heart of the event is the open Playa. Here one will find a
random and seemingly endless collection of art installations ranging
from glowing flower gardens and moving art car dance parties, to the
impossibly huge Man structure that resides at the city's center. To
the north, beyond The Man, Black Rock City unfolds into the deep
playa that reaches north to the horizon and the mountains in the
distance. In this wide open land one may stumble upon secret performance stages, bicycle graveyards, and oddities that only a handful of the 68,000 participants are likely to discover.
Another gem that can be found out in
this deep wasteland is the view of the chaos, which affords the
observer a true depiction of the sheer size and scope of Black Rock
City. There is nothing quite like watching the nighttime skyline
glow, sway, and vibrate with constant movement of art cars, lasers,
people, and sound waves. This energy can be seen flowing through the
city, as if it were the lifeblood of some super-organism that has
settled into the dust for the night.
Of course, while watching the nighttime
playa from afar is tranquil and mesmerizing, the setting inside of the
city during the evening is difficult to describe in words. Most noticeable,
are the lights. When the sun sets, thousands of bikes, art cars, people, and dance floors erupt to
shining, pulsating life. Tens of thousands of
colors squirm and flicker to the deep bass-driven beats that emanate
from the infinite number of radios, speakers, and double-decker unicorn
party buses that rage throughout the night. Music is a constant on
the Playa, day
or night. However, the vibe created by the nighttime
dance parties and DJ sets flows into the streets and seeps into the
soul of every participant. The party never stops at Burning Man, but
the hours one spends awake while the sun is not, will undoubtedly be
the most wild.
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| Flaming Skeeball? |
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| That's an angry looking unicorn
Although every night on the Playa is
hectic, the night of the Burn is undeniably the most intense. The Man burns on the Saturday before Labor Day, the second to last night of the event. As the sun sets, people slowly begin to form a wide circle around the man. When the drums begin to beat and the glowing green Man raises his arms in the air, the crowd sits down in the dust.
The ceremony begins with one of the largest displays of fire dancing in the world, followed by a pyrotechnic show that was either supposed to be a ten minute long grand finale, or the reenactment of an accident at a fireworks factory. Suddenly, the entire structure explodes in an immense fireball that shoots hundreds of feet into the sky. The massive crowd roars as the building slowly begins to crumble to the ground. After the collapse, the ash covered observers make their may to watch smaller burns, and dance through the city until the wee hours of the morning.
I will never forget the feeling of watching the huge unidentified flying object that I had been admiring all week burn to the ground. The sigh of relief that passed through the gathering was palpable. Sixty eight thousand people watched their worries and anxieties vanish in the flames. Sitting there on the Playa, next to friends both old and new, was one of the more powerful experiences I have ever been lucky enough to be a part of.
While the sights, sounds, and parties are beyond imagination, the most important moments on the Playa are in the friends you make, the conversations you share, and the lifelong bonds that are formed. If the reader is considering making their own journey to the Playa some day, my advice is to do so without hesitation, and do so wholeheartedly. A big thanks to the people who helped make my first week in the dust one to remember, and congratulations to Camp International Shantytown Village on our inaugural Burn, may there be many more to come.
The desert is an environment of contrast. Just as the sand suddenly meets the sky and the temperature swings from day to night, Burners say farewell to the Playa with mixed emotions. One walks away tired, yet energized. Dumbfounded, yet enlightened. The long journey home provides an opportunity for the mind to process what it just endured, while preparing for the decompression to come. Indeed, just as that first coating of dust can cleanse the soul of the participant upon arrival, the cleansing of that dust serves as the first step in the reentry to reality. To this day, I still find playa stuck in nooks and crevices of those cherished items that joined me on my adventure. There it will remain until I can return the fine silky powder to its rightful home, out there on that wind swept dry lake bed, tucked away in a small corner of the Nevada desert. Until next time, Black Rock City. The Universe is conspiring in your favor.
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